My world of small big things

Last mission

2012-02-17T14:06:00.000-08:00

Her unit dodged behind the thick bushes at the edge of the wood, keeping their short-barreled shotguns close to their chests. She stood right in the middle, with feet well rooted into the ground, monitoring the objective through a pair of small top-notch binoculars. The mansion looked like a heavy monster in the ghostly light of the moon. In the silence of the night only the collared scops owls hoots, whines, and squeals could be heard. She put the binoculars in the special belt holster and snapped her fingers. The six soldiers from her special secret team jumped up like felines, three to the left, three to the right.

She watched their tensed bodies and she grinned. She had been waiting for this moment since ever. In the past she had been a normal woman with normal habits, a normal job and a rather a pathetic, sad, lonely existence. Until the bleak day when everything seemed lost and without any ray of hope. She wandered like a homeless person through the city and she stopped only when a wet flyer stubbornly got glued to one of the shoe soles. The ad announced that Alpha&Omega Brigade recruited women from all walks of life. No extra information. Just a very small phone number. Dulled and empty inside she called and her future began.

Months of harsh training followed, during which she spared no sweat drop, no bruise, no pain, no tear, no broken bone. As soon as her physical stamina reached the required level, she went through various psychological tests: long periods of isolation, endless hours of surveys and inquiries, life and death to be solved situations, immense puzzles that needed to be assembled on the walls of the camp, and treasure hunts in ingeniously built labyrinths. She passed them all with the highest scores possible, but the laurels and praises did not interest her. She had only one dream: her own unit, and no limitations in decisions and budgets. She had pledged loyalty to act in the name of honesty, courage and greater good. And she had made it: her numerous missions, led with sharp spirit, proved every time successful, without collateral damages.

After this night she would announce her resignation. But before that, she had to recover the target. They advanced stealthily and in less than 1 minute they entered the house. Here and there, tall vases filled with lilies made her nostrils tremble: her favorite flowers. She ordered her mind to ignore the intoxicating flavor. Surrounded by her team she climbed the grandiose central stairs and turned left toward the main bedroom, according to the blueprints they had studied. She opened the door, and, in the silvery shadows, she recognized him. Her heart almost sank with longing. Near him, cuddled and snoring as always like a rubber duck toy, the cute terrier for which she had come such a long way. It was her last present for him before he broke up with her.

She got closer to bed and with expert moves, she snatched the little animal and trapped it in a special designed bag. Now she could say they were even. Unfortunately she also felt incredibly sad. The feelings she thought she had forgotten rushed into her soul and heart. One could see that with half an eye she never ceased to love him. She hesitated one split second. Too late. He grabbed her hand with such a force, that she almost choked.

"If you steal it from me, you better kill me first. Though I have a better proposal for you." the man said.

She slowly turned and their eyes locked. He smiled and whispered:

"Would you steal me as well?"

Disclaimer: "No humans or dogs were harmed during the writing of this story." :) copyrighted by @CruciFire :)

City of Miracles

2012-02-16T12:48:00.001-08:00

She came to the point when only a portico could help her getting back the inner balance. Crippled, limping and with eyes blurred, she dragged herself as per her guru's instructions in emergency situations into the corner of a deserted porch. It had been such a serene day, when all the pieces of the puzzle seemed to fall into their correct place, and the inner turmoil was trapped inside a ring made of memories. But then again, she didn't deserve to taste peace for a long time. She had been cursed by a malefic destiny to walk alone on the Arched Red Bridge. Only at times a companion popped up out of the blue hanged on her translucent belt, supporting and loving her so that she could reach the next shelter.

This time, her help appeared under the form of a cylinder full of petrol eyes, wearing grey rimmed glasses as means of communication. Initially they tested each other with curiosity, care and friendship. Once they passed the first shelter, she hoped for more and showered it with wisdom and appreciation, managing to crack the ovoid shield where her vital breath hided. The cylinder fluttered all its eye-lashes and the metallic rims sparkled in the light of the 2 clusters that kept the planet on its double axes. When they were approaching half of their journey, she had already fallen for it. In a dare-devil and out-braving impulse, she kissed it, and the cylinder expanded. Now it had long fingers, which could finally express more of its feelings.

They started to braid her thick hair in complex and unique forms, they washed her with the drops captured from the straggling green clouds, they massaged her back, when the heaviness of the back tubes ate from her flesh, they learned the contours of her face and neck and they delicately arranged the long skirt made of hundreds of onyx and pearl ribbons. Soon the fingers were allowed to touch her more intimately and they greedily edged into the crack of the shield. The air they found inside felt like warmed wax. Thrilled, they started to mold waves and creases, unaware of the destructive effect on the pilgrim.

She suffered in silence the numerous pangs of pain, but with a big smile on her face. Weakened, but with a rocky desire to continue the journey she could swear this time she would beat faith and she would finally join The City of Miracles. One day though, the eyes in the cylinder did not open anymore and fingers refused to talk their common language. Curse was back. She had let almost her entire air deranged and used, but, as always, it proved insufficient. The cylinder melt and the petrol liquid got absorbed into the red pavement.

Now she had to start all over again. Only she had no more powers. The deserted porch smelled suddenly of magnolias. Her guru hologram stood up from the wooden floor.

"You thought it would be that easy? Get up and pick it from the pavement. It didn't leave you. It is simply lost. You are the only one who could reconstruct it. So don't give up."

Hypnotized, with a dead-beat body, she slithered her wounded legs back on the bridge. She knelt, she broke her protective shield and put her chest on the pavement. After months of crawling like this, centimeter after centimeter, inside her the first eye grew and blinked. Ninety nine more and she could set forth in search of the glasses.

City of Miracles was no longer her purpose.

Acceptance

2012-02-15T11:57:00.000-08:00

Giving they say
is having a bit of God in yourself.
Giving they say
is writing your soul with heavenly letters.
Giving they say
is crushing your mind for others sake.
Giving they say
is rewarding the nature with balance.
Giving they say
is breaking the spells and bad omen.
Giving they say
is stepping mercilessly on your ego.
Giving they say
is enlightening your shadowed spirit.
Giving they say
is bringing sun into the blackest of sorrows.
Giving they say
is soothing the troubled and clouded souls.

Receiving instead is just a piece of science fiction story,
And this poet here has never met such a tremendous glory.

What is mine is mine...

2012-02-15T09:57:00.000-08:00

This is a short post written as a challenge proposed by @69fubar (a central theme and 100 words max). His lollipop version can be found here http://fubar69.blogspot.com/2012/02/crunch.html

His soft spot had always been the lollipop, but not the one with lots of sugar and pinky ingredients. His favorite looked like a batton made of white and dark chocolate. He had hundreds of them at home, neatly arranged in drawers for all possible occasions. The thief knew everything about his weakness, and waited patiently. That November cold and silent night, she sneaked inside, emptied all the drawers and left with a huge revenge smile on her lips. What she would never find out was the fact that he actually slept with the most precious lollipop under his pillow.

The heaven in hell

2012-02-13T23:39:00.000-08:00

This post has totally been written under @CruciFire twisted mind influence. Thank you Jay for your input and for always being such an amazing source of inspiration. :)

The cynical laughter of the Jaded Dragon rolled over the burning mountains like boomerangs sent by a Mongolian army. The black imperial trees swayed their foliage spitting long tongues of scarlet flames. The boiling geysers erupted in the air, splashing the rocky roads with sizzling hot steam. Fuming and thick clouds of orange soot were cramming into each other, running with short claws to diabolically strangle any living being. The skyline almost disappeared and what was left of it looked like a split wound made by a knife with a ragged blade.

The Dragon straightened his back after centuries of fighting and touched his part of the face veiled in an iron, livid, fluid mask. He had lost his left cheek during the Dawn Wars when a triple cannon shot ripped off his skin, muscles and bones and threw him in an agonizing pain. No tricks, no magic, no spell, no dark potion could reconstruct his face back. When he realized the ugly truth he jumped into the tar pitch and shouted his frustration until the Earth cracked and swallowed one sea and a mountain. Revenge crept inside him with the greediness of a bride pledging faith and submissiveness in front of the priest.

Since that day, the Jaded Dragon fared forth in his quest to haunt down the Molded Fairy, the mistress of hope, affection and cunning creatures. A nasty thorn and a wild bitch who had to learn her final lesson. With an obsessive perseverance, he sniffed her trace in each corner, den, kennel, vault or hidden hole. And finally he got her, after an impish plan, attentively woven with the tribe of red two-headed gnomes, who had always played on double fronts as well. In a disgusting potshot, they killed her cortege made of steel winged butterflies and green-eyed bats. They captured her in a solid basalt grating, and shot her with snake venom to paralyze her strengths. When the fairy's body went limp, they cuffed her hands on the Wall of Remembrance, known for its slyness and envied for its incomprehensible secrets.

The Jaded Dragon arrived with great pomp at the place of the future sacrifice, and slowly came close to his prisoner. A thick thatch of hair was covering the Fairy's face. He put a finger under her chin and pushed her head up. Puzzled, he stepped back. The right part of her face was a mask as well. Iron, livid and fluid. "Was she mocking at him all this time? Did she dare make fun of his suffering?" Enraged and with thoughts suffocated by fury and helplessness, he wanted to kill her. He stopped only when she opened her eyes and she begged him in silence to allay the roaring deep instincts.

"Great Jaded Dragon, I know I have labored under a delusion and our paths crossed through the land of mistakes and misunderstandings, but hear me out. Killing me wont do any good to you. My part of ordeal is at end. It is up to you if you want yours over as well. For this you have to keep me alive. Once your heart will decide life is the winner, the invisible spirits will tell you what to do next. The sacrifice must be done."

The dragon grinned and listened to the red flakes which were falling from above. His body stiffened. His hands moistened with burning sweat. His healthy eye teared. Screaming he hurled toward her, peeling with his fingers big patches from her body skin. Even the gnomes turned their heads horrified. The smell of the blood sickened the world. The view of the wounds made the stones cry. After half an hour the Molded Fairy became just a red mass. Only the mask still glittered in silver tones. Shaking, The Jaded Dragon took her right cheek and glued it to his left cheek with a hand of dust scrawled from the Wall.

Their masks melted into each other and soon they took the shape of a grey heart. The Molded Fairy's body lost the rest of the flesh step by step, while the Jaded Dragon's posture changed from an aggressive to a protective one. In the process, the heart made of their faces reddened. The sky cleared and rainbows arched over the valleys.

Right above the wall, 2 beautiful silhouettes were flying hand in hand, smiling. When they blinked, small hearts dripped from the pulsating vital matrix.

And the world knew love for the first time in history.

Within a coin

2012-02-12T11:05:00.000-08:00

It was one of those days when the air shook with tremors, though things seemed all right. One of the days when sun was shining, the sky poured blue drops over the mountains, but woods were rustling with anxiety. When wolves, bees and eagles lived together in harmony, but caves hauled of emptiness. One of those days when the shaman did not understand any of the worlds anymore. When no chanting proved to be efficient, but when spirits and demons were whispering into his ear more than ever. When the trumpet in the core of Earth sent a cacophony of sounds, but he couldn't decipher them anymore.

Drained, heart-stoned, but with the mind trapped in the whirl of thoughts he rushed into his small chalet made of reed and clay and searched the massive trunk, well hidden in the ground. He took out a small velvety box. He slowly lifted its lid and his heart and soul jumped with joy when seeing the rustic silver coin engraved with the delicate face of a woman. He pressed his lips to it, waiting for the miracle to happen. After a few seconds he realized he was still standing and the world was still moving.

Where did the power go away? Why wasn't she responding to him anymore? The shaman rubbed the coin with gentleness, uttering words known only to him and her. He begged her to answer him. He kept asking for forgiveness, though it was futile given the fact she accepted happily to live the rest of her life inside a coin, so that he could rule over the Earth with wisdom and dedication. In spite of all his efforts, the silver remained cold and dead. Bereaved and frustrated, he started to shed springs of tears that once fallen on the ground made the grass grow green and tall instantly.

His purpose and desires vanished. He became a shaman without magic. He wrote his last testament and he sat into his favorite chair, waiting for night to fall. He kissed the coin again, before putting it near his heart in a skin pocket carved especially by the big daemons on the day of his coronation. His eye-lashes fluttered several times and a deadly tiredness was seizing his body. Feelings inside him limped. The words blended into a mass of meaningless patterns. Defeated, he closed his eyes and saw death approaching.

"For God's sake, wake up, wake up. Now. My love, move your ass. Now. Come on. Be strong. I am here."
The coin was burning its skin, spitting blisters all over. His most beloved was back. He shuddered, yelled impatiently, stood up and groaned with pleasure. His eyes were smiling again.
"What did you think? That I am dead? No way my darling shaman. How could I die without letting you know? But somehow I got stuck between 2 rusty folds and you know how clumsy I am and how much I need your input to oil these goddamn things properly. Now be a sport and polish me a bit more, will you?"

Black magic

2012-02-10T10:35:00.000-08:00

Mixing oils and flavors had always been her hobby since ever. Maya couldn't remember exactly when the craziness started, but she knew she had to do it. In the beginning she was playing with the flowers petals she found in the garden of her teenage-hood: daisies, hyacinth, lilies and violas. She soaked them in alcohol for two weeks, then filtered the small quantity of liquid and in the end she added exactly 20 drops of oil essence bought from an old chemist's shop. She had always smelled like nature and her perfume made people feel comfortable around her.

Maya didn't expect much from life, but she needed a job, so she chose to be a secretary. She had been working for her boss for more than 15 years with dedication, passion and great understanding. He run a big business and he spent most of his time in office. Jarius was demanding and many a times moody and with furious outbursts. He had never yelled at her, but when he was not happy with her work, he smashed the files on the desk. One day he called on her mobile and told her that her services were not wanted anymore. Without further explanations.

Maya did not say a word and she simply went to her small lab, where herbs, flowers and vials waited neatly arranged. She watched them for a long time and then tears of frustration filled her eyes. Not because she had lost her only income, not because of humiliation, but because she realized she had loved him all this time. Mutely, in secrecy, without asking anything in return. And she had lost the chance to show him this. After a sleepless night, she went straight to the chemist's shop. Here the aged seller saw immediately something was wrong and offered her a chair. And she confessed everything, crying her heart out. She asked him for a strong oil to make for him a perfume that would change his mind. The man shook his head and said:
"You need magic, black magic to turn impossible into possible. I will give you an address. But once you get in there, God be with you. There is no coming back."

She didn't care about the advice and searched for the indicated place. A grim, massive mansion, with an iron gate. In the garden, a woman of her age was tending a huge bush of roses. She raised her eyes and smiled:
"Ah, Maya... I knew you would come one day to claim what is yours. Let's go inside. And do not fear. You have been here before."

Astonished, Maya followed the woman and she passed over the threshold. A world of wonders unveiled in front of her. Green lianas popping up from the walls, tables made of trees, huge vases with black roses, and huge butterflies with red wings flying all over. Right at the back of the high room, she could see a throne covered in purple and indigo orchids. The woman pushed Maya to walk further. And further. And further.
"Sit on the throne, Maya. And take with you what you think is helpful to get your love back."
Reluctant at first, but suddenly invaded by a mysterious desire, she let her body in the middle of the flowers. As soon as she touched the throne, the world lost its contours and she became a vessel of senses. Dazzling flavors, harsh drum beats, peppery tastes, sparkling colors. All in an intoxicating whirl. Her heart stopped for a second and all the senses in one rushed into her body. She opened her eyes and world was again as before.

"My dear Maya, you don't need anything from me or anybody else. The black magic is in you. Just listen to it, rip your heart mercilessly and let the essences come to surface."

Maya left the house and went back to her lab. With moves she didn't remember she had started to mix the ingredients on the table. At the end she closed her eyes and saw how her heart was splitting. From the bleeding wound a black oily rose was flourishing. She touched it and let one drop to fall inside the vial. The next day, she wrapped the perfume and sent it to her boss. Curious, Jarius opened the small bottle and inhaled the flavor.

And he understood.

Miraculously yours...

2012-02-09T10:22:00.000-08:00

For an earthling she would have probably appeared as an optical illusion, as she was made of air colored in blue hues that shaped a sort of a humanoid body. Their civilization had deep roots in the history of Galaxy 31. They knew only one dimension: time. Space meant nothing to them. They came into life when the 2 loops of past and future collided and a glitch disturbed the orderly texture of the Universe. Then their purpose was to float between dimensions in an attempt to find the ones with a similar glitch woven in their consciousness. Most of them got stuck in voids or vanished in black holes, without realizing this is the end for them. They didn't have names, but tags. She was tagged as Blue Original 1 according to the invisible scroll made of stars that spread along the axis of the Galaxy. Only the most gifted ones could read it and understand it.

Blue Original 1 liked to jump through the scroll punctures as she discovered these were the best points to find new worlds and extraordinary matter conglomerations. One galactic night she sneaked through the tightest puncture and embraced the tail of a passing comet, letting herself swayed by the light speed. The ride stopped when the comet met an asteroid. The consequent explosion scattered her in billions of bubbles and by the time she managed to pull herself together she got caught in the atmosphere of a blue planet. And for the first time she experienced the feeling of falling. And the anxiety, and the fear of destruction. She needed quickly a gap in time. She swirled around her own celestial body and after exactly 3.14 galactic seconds she landed in the middle of a wood.

Here, under what she would find out later was a thing called tree, a weirdly familiar figure was sleeping. She hovered over him for a long time, reading his data. The more she assimilated, the more she wanted him. She almost imploded, when her blue fingers found the absolute same glitch very well hidden in a small gene. With a happiness going even beyond infinite past, she infiltrated inside him. The man woke up startled. For the first time after years of pain and sorrows he felt at peace. Serene. Ready to live his life again. He stood up and went to a small lake nearby to wash his face. He knelt and watched himself in the shiny mirror.

His eyes had turned blue overnight.

In the land of the last Golden Pharaoh...

2012-02-05T08:18:00.000-08:00

The smell of the burning incense and the hypnotic moves of the High Priestess, who had been dancing for their God - Rajan - almost let her without breath. The ritual had lasted more than ever as intentions at stake went beyond human imagination. They had been preparing her for more than one year. The alignment of the Planets spoke of an incredible opportunity to finally change the land of last Golden Pharaoh. The priestesses waited patiently for their moment to come.

The Pharaoh's only son, Jeheb, reached manhood age and as all his sisters died in mysterious circumstances, the only solution to continue the royal bloodline, according to the Book of the Big Architect, was to copulate with High Priestess' elder daughter, Hinshata, who was anyway famous for her charm and skillfulness when it came to assuage men's desires. Thus Jeheb would be able to enjoy a perfect first night consummated with great art.

But the priestesses cast had other plans. If Jeheb would lose his virginity also with a virgin, they could unthrone the Pharaoh and rule the vast land of the golden sands forever. All they had to do was to switch Hinshata with her little sister, Monsheput. If they were able to do this then their faith was in the young woman's hands, or better said in in her belly and her hands. They taught her step by step how to behave and what she was supposed to do. The ritual had to be followed strictly.

The night of the 2 moons came and the Golden Temple torches lighted up the sky. In the Domino hall, a bed made of gold and covered with the finest sheets had been placed. The naked servants finished surrounding the bed with flowers petals and honey bowls for fertility, and soon they withdrew. Jeheb sat petrified in the middle of the bed. Then he heard the jingling of hundreds of bracelets. A young woman dressed in a tight transparent black dress was coming toward him. She wore a golden mask, but he could see her black eyes. She seemed as scared as he was.

Monsheput took a deep breath and started to undress him slowly. She repeated these moves thousands of times on a slave, and she thought she would not be that nervous. His skin was soft and smelled of clean air. Her fingers somehow recognized the patterns of his body and this frightened her even more. Mesmerized, Jeheb wanted more and listening to his instincts he pinned her under him. The first thrust took them by surprise. He expected an easy slide and she expected the so talked about pain. But Jeheb received the exact amount of opposition as to go crazy and want to thrust even more, while Monsheput felt as if she had been given access to the Heaven of pleasures. Soon their consciousness died and their bodies found their own way to communicate. Endless hunger, sweat, sighs and moans. Exhausted, Jeheb broke the silence: "I am ready. I cannot stand anymore." The Earth came rolling back like a boulder on Monsheput. Now it was the time to put an end to Pharaoh's domination. She remembered the advice: "When you hear him saying he is ready, force your body to stop, keep him inside and imagine you are squeezing with your belly a peeled orange. 5 times. No rush. After that he will fill you in and his life will be over."

Monsheput tensed her inner muscles and the pharaoh's son shed a tear. Second time, he opened his eyes and looked into her soul. Third time, he sighed and his lips trembled. Fourth time, he hold her tight. Fifth time...

....

The dawn came to the world with an orange, delicate light... The 2 lovers were sleeping. Near the bed, a golden mask was shining. A new era began.

Mira and Julienne

2012-02-04T09:53:00.000-08:00

The Opera House was full as always. A whirl of satin, silk, chiffon and heavy flavors made men blink intimidated and check their bow-ties in every shiny surface. The air buzzed with the love between the long fine gloves, diamonds, emeralds and the black tuxedos. The season started with Traviata and the new discovered diva, Mira. The poster announcing the premiere showed a small brunette, with big, piercing eyes and impressive breasts, highlighted by the cut of the red gown.

Well hidden behind a column, a young man was waiting for everybody to take their seats. Progressively, the great hall emptied. Inside he could hear the orchestra making the final repetitions. When the applause finally indicated the conductor was bowing for the audience, he crept in almost invisible and sat right on the floor, in the middle of the aisle. The curtains were up and he closed his eyes, letting himself carried away with the music and the memories.

Mira belonged to him some years ago. They met at a soiree and they fell in love immediately. He courted her passionately, but soon it became obvious she was way over heels for him, so he pushed further. One night, she popped up at his door and white as a chalk, she threw her arms around his waist. Without any difficulties or opposition, he robbed her virginity in one of the hottest nights of his life. The body on the stage dressed in red was his completely. He knew all the moles and creases and birthmarks on it. He also knew its delicacy, its frailty, but also its insane ardor. He had never received so much love, so submissive and so naturally. However, when his parents told him about a perfect match for him, he broke up with Mira and he got engaged with a beautiful and rich princess. After 1 year they got married and now they were expecting a child. He was happy, but something missed in his life.

Time flew and the show came closer to the tragic finale. Violetta Valery was dying, white as a spectrum, in the arms of her lover. Her aria made everybody cry. No such voice had been heard before. No such pain and suffering could be called human. When the curtains dropped, people remained silent like grey statues in a cemetery. It seemed as if the entire world stopped breathing. With burning eyes, the young man stood up and started to applaud. Soon the audience woke up and followed its lead.

He stepped back and with burdened shoulders he got out in front of the Opera where he crashed on the steps. One hour later he was still there alone, engrossed in his terrifying thoughts. A soft hand on his hair startled him.

"I knew you were the one applauding. Who could have understood better such desperation?"
"Mira! I..."
"Julienne, please... Shhhh... everything is all right."
She helped him stand up and she kissed him. With fire and tears and a bitter taste.
"Julienne, I never stopped loving you, if this is why you came here tonight. And every time I will sing, you will hear my love. It will always be there for you like a rock."
"It's not fair."
"True. But you made your choice. Now it's time for you to go home."

Since that day, Julienne would come to the opera to make love with her eyes and her voice. He would buy all the tickets from the front row. And she would sing only for him.

The jump

2012-02-03T08:19:00.000-08:00

The door closed. And he left her in the luxurious, but sad room of the hotel. He told her this would be their last meeting and from now on they were supposed to continue their lives on separate ways. He still loved and respected her, but they had no future together and she knew this better than anybody. At first she didn't realize what had happened. But now the disaster started to sink in, turning her blood into red vapors that were floating through the rooms like flies over a rotten corpse. She was shaking uncontrollably and the tears were choking her.

How could she go on without his tight hold, when watching a movie, without his funny mustache when he was drinking yogurt, without the flowers picked stealthily from public parks, without his endless jokes about her beauty rituals, without his finger curling her hair, while he was reading, without their nights when between 2 video games, they sneaked on the balcony and they made love mute as fish and screaming only with the eyes, without his miraculous touches, when massaging her swollen ankles, without his black T-shirts in which she dressed when he was out flying his MIG... How?

Devastated and hopeless she realized she couldn't. How could one breath without air? So before it was too late she came to the conclusion she had to put an end to everything. She opened the glass door and she got out on the terrace. It was their habit for years to rent the presidential suit in the most expensive hotel in the city. She watched the orange sky for the last time, and she jumped from the 23rd floor of the building.

....

The phone shrieked and the woman woke up startled. "Bloody hell, I cannot believe it is 6.30 already and I slept only one hour just to have this freaking nightmare. I swear I will stop watching Top Gun over and over again just because it helps me stay focused while repeating. Damn." She got off the bed, washed herself, dressed, took her laptop (but not without smooching Tom Cruise wallpaper for good luck) and run to the restaurant to have at least one coffee, before going to arrange the hall where she was going to deliver the first speech of the video-games conference.

At that ungodly hour only 2 sleepy waiters were roaming around. She poured herself some coffee, chose some cereals and she turned to look for a place. In a far away corner, a guy with a black T-shirt was reading the newspaper.

The woman started to laugh when she saw the yogurt mustache above his upper lip.

Snow White - the real story

2012-02-02T11:27:00.000-08:00

Snow White was a stubborn teenager, beautiful like a deer, fierce like a lioness, with red lips like strawberries and blue eyes cold like ice. She had swinging moods, but she sang beautifully. She yelled at servants, but she crafted small gifts for them in secrecy. Everybody loved her in spite of her hysterical crisis. Her step father (as actually Snow White had been adopted, after a peasant had left her on the entrance steps of the palace), the King of Kings, not only loved her, but worshiped her with an insane mix of feelings. In the modern era for sure he would have ended up on a shrink's couch.

When the Kings of Kings couldn't handle the inner turmoil anymore, he decided to get himself a wife as a source of distraction. This is is how The Queen of Spades came to the household. She was a normal woman, with a sweet tongue, cheerful eyes, but with a heart blackened by lack of love. She had received the proposal with joy and submission ready to dedicate her life for a greater good. And she tried everything with her spouse - without limits or shyness. In vain. The King of Kings seemed hopelessly caught in the trap of his own thoughts and sentiments.

Defeated, sad and with a heavy lead heart, the Queen accepted her faith and covered all the mirrors in her apartments. What was the point to see a dead woman walking and crying? One day when she was resting depressed on a bench in the garden, the ripples of the small lake caught her attention. She went to the waterside and looked carefully. Her doppelganger was smiling back at her.
"Who are you?" asked the Queen.
"You in the future. Please don't lose hope. Miracles happen every day, as the Universe likes you and it has the power to change destiny."
The sheen of the water blurred and the mirage disappeared.

Right then at the gates of the palace 7 dwarfs halted, singing A cappella and shouting that they needed to see Snow White, for they were messengers of great news. The girl received them happily, as she got bored with painting some realistic red apples. Doc and Sneezy handed her a golden box. She lift the lid and screamed with surprise. Then she ran into the woods, without a word. Taken by surprise and desperate, the King of Kings sent the Head Hunter to find his precious daughter. After endless days of searches, finally, the hunter got a lead. He had bribed Sleepy with some coffee beans and the dwarf confessed. The golden box contained a sapphire ring from the Prince of Diamonds as a token to his regrets. For two good years he had rejected Snow White for being too crude and inexperienced. But she ignored his indifference and chose to send him a pigeon-carried love letter every day. Now they were living in his vacation chalet, trying to find a way to get The King of King's blessing.

When the terrific story came back to the Grand Court, hell on Earth unleashed. King's fury and frustration made everybody hide in the cellars, behind the huge wooden barrels. Only the Queen had the courage to confront him. She dragged him in their bedroom and locked the door. Then she sat on the bed and just with her big shiny eyes she called him closer. He knelt near her and started to cry. She let him for a while, but when the pain was too big she took his head and pressed it on her bosom. The tears were absorbed one by one by her blackened heart until it became dark red. She kept holding him like a baby for hours. When the King of Kings stopped, he raised his eyes and smiled.

He saw his wife for the first time and he kissed her dearly. The Queen of Spades had a ruby red heart now.

The wizard of Moz

2012-02-01T09:30:00.000-08:00

Cocky. That was how the wizard walked through his ancient lab checking the herbs, the gems, the feathers and other secret ingredients. He ruled over Moz realm for centuries because no other royal blood offspring could match his powers and charm. His wizdom(sic!) and posture said everything. I am the master and if you obey, I shall keep you in my protective arms. His humor and tenderness were rarely displayed, but what a magical show happened when they occurred. The other day he had solved a big quarrel between a hobgoblin and a troll. The troll claimed he was synonymous with the hobgoblin, but the latter refused to accept such an offence. He called both of them and with a snap of fingers gave the two an extra pair of ears. His laughter made the woods hum with life.

But today, being a diplomatic soul as well, Moz decided to receive the messenger sent by the neighboring highland, Malem, where the blue witches ruled for centuries as well. For more than 20 years they had had struggles with quotes of share in the Mystic River that separated them. It wasn't a question of water, but of the pebbles in the river, which were used for different mischievous tricks. On both sides. Moz had prepared himself well: a bit of mosque for sex-appeal, the red cape with embroidered moons and stars for hypnosis, the rhomboidal glasses for heart and mind reading (but also for eyes groping if the messenger would be young) and the last, but not the least... the chocolate wand. This had always been his strong point. At first sight nobody believed that a sweet, soft and innocent wand could do so many miracles.

The tower clock announced with fairy like sounds lunch time. An elf servant sprang behind the main door and with a squeaky voice yelled:
"Her witchiness of Malem, Miss Moaniaca."

Surrounded by blue sparrows that were flying around her head like a crown, Moaniaca proved to be a very ripe witch, dressed in a superbly woven black gown with a cleavage that showed her navel and which made Moz gulp a little and push the glasses up the nose. She carried two huge and white crystal balls that almost blinded the dark spirits lurking through the lab. She kept walking without a word and she stopped only when her crystal balls almost touched Moz's wand. Some say they were 5 centimeters away. Some say the personal space wasn't invaded. But you know... size, length always rise debates. Nevertheless the witch spoke first:

"My dear Moz, I came in peace. We offer you 20 pebbles for each 100 gathered."
"My dear Moaniaca, then I should show you what coming in peace means. 30 for you. 70 for me."
"I see... You want to play hard. I am not impressed. Try more. So get down to it. Final offer."
"With such an opponent, hardness is a must. 50-50. And we all get our satisfaction."

Too preoccupied with their stubborn and sparkling dialogues, they didn't notice that the wand and the crystal balls started to play with each other and they were floating in a corner, buzzing happily. The wand was sprinkling magic dust in the air and the crystal balls jumped through the fluffy small clouds, giggling.

Moz almost choked with indignation, but Moaniaca grabbed his arm with delicacy and told him:

"Let them be for a while. We both know we lost this time. What say about a pick and draw game? And if you win... I will show you my secrets."
"Like what?" he asked.
"Touch my navel and you will find out."

He obeyed and the moment he did this the chocolate wand melted, turning the 2 crystal balls into huge lollipops. Moz and Moaniaca vanished.
They say they eloped on the other side of the world, where they continued to do magic and spells of course when they weren't occupied with shaping chocolate candies.

The Facebooker vs The Twitterer

2012-01-31T10:08:00.000-08:00

He was the Prince of Facebook. He had a network of friends, fans and admirers like no other. His posts (even the silly ones like a blurred picture of a poster promoting a concert) were liked, commented and shared hundreds of times. He was handsome, given the sexy photos from his profile and fortunately most of the times his thoughts or information thrown to the world were witty, funny and brought value in his big small online world. He also liked to get involved with everybody, so there was no reason for grumpiness born out of indifference. Add to all these a clear tendency to smart flirting and success was his.

She was the Princess of Twitter. Followed by hoards of drooling men who RT-ed her moods, her favorite songs or simply the food she ate in the morning, with an Activity tab busier than Lady Gaga's, with groups of female friends who were jumping like a pack of wolves to protect her, whenever somebody tried to bully her, she was like a sweet breeze during summer. Not beautiful in the classical way, she had sex-appeal and she made sure her yfrog or twitpic photos were the best. She used to chirp every day about everything and she tried to satisfy at least virtually her followers desires. Up to a point though. Mystery had to be kept, no?

In real life both worked their asses in multinationals, got involved in the same cyclic schedule and clichees and in spite of a very active social life with parties, meetings, seminars, events and the rest of goodies offered by corporations world they couldn't find a suitable significant partner. Miraculously they both hated Sunday evening and they loved Monday mornings. The beginning of the week blues was just a volatile disposition and people took it too seriously.

As world is actually small, one day they met on G+. Google's platform had just been launched and as this was a good topic for conversations in their electronic lairs, they joined immediately. When they found each other the clashes of ingenious bytes and megabytes shook Internet. They fell in love during their first Skype session. Desperately in love and irremediably infatuated. Initially they tried to keep up with their friends, but they were just humans not robots. Multitasking this time could not be considered a virtue anymore. They couldn't breathe without each other. Their phone bills sky-rocketed because of hundreds of cheesy sms sent from everywhere, at any hour. And finally after six painful months of living in the kingdom of typed words they decided it was high time for their bodies to reunite.

They arranged their legal holidays in the same period and they chose a neutral ground: a country right in the middle of the distance between them. For seven days Planet Earth no longer existed for them. They fit perfectly and the idea to stay far away from each other seemed like a torture. He arrived first at home and out of habit he accessed his FB account. Complaints, complaints, suicidal threats, reproaches...all reddening the Notifications space. And being a generous heart he tried to satisfy everybody. The operation took hours and he didn't notice his cell battery died. Tired like hell, but pleased with himself he went to sleep. The next day right before going to work, he remembered her and he cursed his damn phone. She had texted him when she landed and 3 hours later she had sent him a sad smiley. He called her. No answer. She checked her Twitter timeline. No updates. He checked her G+ stream. Nothing.

3 days later she uncicrcled him on G+. 6 days later she sent him a sms. "For the record, I cannot believe I got involved with a guy who had a Klout score smaller than mine."

10 days later he deleted his Facebook account and followed her on Twitter anonymously.

The magnifying glass

2012-01-30T10:40:00.000-08:00

Finally the train was put in motion. The detective sighed happily as for once in his lifetime the coach was empty. Though he had a 6 hours travel ahead, he didn't need any chatty stranger to ruin his thoughts. He was working on one of the most difficult cases of his career and he wanted to clear up his mind for the big flagrante delicto. His client had been in love with a woman who disappeared in thin air some years ago. She had left him a letter in which she apologized, claiming she had to go for his own good. The guy moved on with his life, but he still wanted revenge.

The detective managed to trace her in Paris after detailed and sweaty investigations. According to his sources the woman was single, but in his books, that meant a secret affair. And as the client bulged his bank account with more than he had ever hoped, he decided to kill two birds with one stone: catch the woman and indulge in some days of vacation as well. He closed his eyes, smiling and almost feeling the taste of victory. Not for long, as the coach door opened and a short haired blonde woman in her 30's entered saying Bonjour. "So much for my peace and quietness." He just nodded grumpily, but noticing the way she proudly carried her beautiful breasts around. At least he would have something to stare at in case she would become too annoying.

The woman had a big suitcase and obviously there was no way for her to place it in the rack above. With a stiff sigh, he stood up and helped her. This is when her perfume hit him with powerful waves of freesia and jasmine. His nostrils quivered with nostalgia, remembrance, curiosity, love and surprise. Where did he smell it before? And when? He had a good olfactory memory, but this time there was a piece missing in the puzzle. He watched her closely. She seemed familiar without any reason. As if he had met her long time ago. Besides, if he was to be honest she was quite attractive and very close to how he imagined his online lover, Miranda, would look like.

He got befriended with Miranda on a social network four years ago and she had become the most constant presence in his life. He dreamed of meeting her one day, but she lived on the other side of the world, so he simply fed his need for love and affection from her persistent and unbreakable loyalty. He had not asked a photograph of her on her request, but they used to chat and speak a lot on the phone as well. He was a lonely wolf and she accepted the fact he would never make big gestures. Miranda did send him though pictures about her life on a regular basis. Her dog, her desktop, the tree in front of the house, the couch where she used to read... And as a good collector of evidences, he printed them all and carried with him in a folder as a reminder of how blessed he actually was. The conductor popped up in the door frame and interrupted his flow of thoughts.

"So, I see we have two Paris lovers here." grinned the conductor, while checking the tickets. "I wish you both a very nice journey."

Embarrassed, the detective blinked and tried to be polite. She laughed sincerely at his attempt to light a bit the atmosphere. Soon they were having a vivid conversation, scattered with languished looks, as the chemistry between them proved to be fatal. He definitely felt aroused by the way her eyes were smiling, by her legs, by her waist and by the way she was jingling the vintage bracelet on her left hand. Massive, with two smalls chains attached and a delicate monogram: MN. Suddenly the detective's heart started to beat faster. Something was fishy. The monogram!

"Did I say something wrong?" the woman asked him. "You are too quiet..."
"No, no, I have been working on something and I remembered I have to check some things."
"Then, I hope you wouldn't mind if I go to the restaurant and buy something for us to drink and eat."

He said no and waited for the woman to leave. With snapping gestures, the detective took out 2 manila envelopes. Shaking, he checked Miranda's printed photos and he found what he was looking for. A snapshot of her room. On the nightstand between 2 books, one could glimpse a massive bracelet. He fumbled through his bag and pulled out a magnifying glass. And here it was. The same monogram. His heart sank. With a last effort he opened the second envelope, the one with the case and he took out the photo provided by his client. The same height, different eye and hair colors, different weight, but the similarity was striking now.

"Yes, my dear Jacque, it is me, Miranda," said the woman who had returned in the meantime.
She removed her wig, the eye lenses and she turned into a beautiful brown-eyed brunette.
"I think you are coming to Paris to catch me in the act. Well, you did. You are my secret affair. And I cannot say nice to meet you, as 2 years ago, when my love for you reached impossible peaks I broke into your apartment and I watched you sleeping."

The detective dropped the photo, which slowly slid under the bench.

My love...unfinished cathedral

2012-01-29T06:26:00.000-08:00

When I see the blue in the sky,
I know my love will never die.

When I see the grime on the stone,
I know my love is for you to own.

The spike in the middle will always be a riddle
Until the missing tower will play on the same fiddle.

High heels

2012-01-28T09:35:00.000-08:00

She has always liked high heeled shoes. Since childhood. Like many other girls in the world, she used to sneak into her parents bedroom and pick the white pumps worn by mom on her wedding day. She hated their color though. But even when she was just a small, curly haired and innocent kid, she somehow knew high heels were important for the future. They became her vital secret. When she failed exams, when she was betrayed, when she was cheated, when simply life proved to be a bitch, she went home and wore high heels. Black, or red or brown, or green or blue. And after a while she could start all over again.

Today is New Year's Eve and she is watching the snow falling from the sky in thick and fat piles of white confetti. The street is empty and only at times people pass by with bags full of champagne and cookies, rushing to the parties where they have been invited. There is an unmistakable thrill in their bodies that speaks about the desire to celebrate life. She has never understood it. Sad, but not tragically unhappy, she comes back to her desk. She has volunteered to be on duty tonight. By default. Who in the right mind would choose to work in such a day? She watches the console closely and apparently women and men with suicidal desires put a hold on their desperation and frustrations. Which gives her an unexpected chance to finish the novel she has started in the morning.

One line of the console starts to beep as loud as a red siren. She checks the display, ready to send the address to the police and the ambulance, but the call is not traceable. She clears her throat and answers:

"Good evening. I am Milly. How may I help you?"
"Hi Milly."
The voice of a young man. It is going to be a tough one. They are always the worst. Moody, determined, with big egos, dangerous for themselves as well as for others.
"What is your name, sir?"
"Call me Jim. And don't sir me, ok? I am much younger than you and I won't feel comfortable."
"It's ok Jim. But how would you know you are younger than me?"
"I simply know. I know the way you frown, when you have to jump over a puddle appeared overnight, I know the smile which tells me the book you are reading really rises to your expectations, I know the tremble of your fingers, when people speak too much around you how happy they are, I know you like oranges and grapes, I know you have beautiful ankles that you always try to hide in boots and I know the hidden tear in your eyes, when you go and buy a new pair of colorful high heeled shoes, which you never wear outside."
"Jim... Are you...?"
"Milly, please, don't interrupt me. I am not a stalker, I do not intend to hurt you, but I know your pain is bigger than mine and this gives me hope. You have been the one who for the last 5 years has helped me when storms were overwhelming and the darkness surrounded me. I just want you to trust someone for once in your life and give yourself a chance. By doing this you will save me as well. I live across the street and this is how I came to know you. Please tell me that you will accept me. I will not be able to cope with the idea of you spending another New Year's Eve all alone. I will hang up now and in 2 minutes I will ring the office bell. If you don't answer it, I will not keep any grudges and I will go downtown and most probably I will get drunk."

The line went dead. She stares the grayish plastic face of the console, with her mind stuck and unable to dial the police number. She is not scared. Rather in shock. Her eyes are full of tears. She bites her lips and she feels the taste of the cinnamon gloss. The watch on the wall continues to tick and the sounds seem to break her ears. One minute to midnight. Was she that transparent? People usually take her as a very cheerful and friendly woman. The bell rings. 50 seconds to midnight. She runs to the door and opens it. The stranger is younger indeed, and taller than her. 40 seconds to midnight. He smiles and gives her a box. She removes the lid and inside there is a splendid pair of white high heeled pumps. 30 seconds to midnight. She quickly gets off her boots and put on the shoes. He comes closer to her and their lips are exactly at the same level now. 1 second to midnight.

"Will you marry me, Milly?"

The Wanderer

2012-01-27T08:49:00.000-08:00

She used to purr under him. Rhythmically, feeling any change in his muscle vibrations and submitting herself to his expert handling. Sparkling in the dark, she knew exactly what he wanted. A safe, smooth, kind, but rushy and forceful ride. And she obeyed without questioning his commands.

The wanderer pressed the clutch with a groan and possessively maneuvered the shift lever. It was time to hit the roads in the desert where nobody dared go before. He had done his time for society and now he wanted to simply vanish per his own choice. In the past no woman could understand his mania for Meg. Hence no family left to oblige with his presence.

The red sand and ghostly rocks passed by them like shadows in a Chinese theater. Stiff, but bent by the moon light. When speed reached the upper limit, he had the feeling he was dancing with the stars. He was flying caressing and squeezing the telescopic forks. His body almost united with the slender but powerful steel frame. When the pleasure became insanely intense, he lost track of time. Sighs of satisfaction traveled through his chest every four seconds.

Suddenly, the front tire hit a crooked root. The impact threw both of them in a debris-slide. He kept his eyes close for the final moment. An explosion and then a deafening silence. The smell of petrol insinuated his nostrils like a rag dipped in ether. He mentally checked his bones and miraculously nothing seemed broken. Meg! Oh no... Slowly turned his head and with sorrow he took in the disaster. Just creased pieces in flames. He started to cry his heart out.

"Excuse me, but what the hell am I doing here?" asked a suave feminine voice.

He rolled over like a dying duck in a thunder storm and his eyes met a naked woman with black hair long to the waist line. She was beautiful like a Gothic picture. On her cheek the petrol was dribbling and a drop fell on her left nipple.

Out of nowhere they heard steps. And more steps. Boots and bare feet. Soon they were surrounded by smiling couples. One of the guys who wore a broken helmet and a cigarette between his fingers spoke for the group:

"You finally saw your Meg, too. Isn't she beautiful? Welcome to the desert from where nobody wants to leave. When your bike exploded, the flames wrote her name in the sky and we knew more happiness will join us."

Moss. Green Moss.

2012-01-25T09:01:00.000-08:00

She was standing on the highest peak of Opium Mountains fully dressed for the ceremony: the long black skirt and the tunic made of violet steel track blocks. After-all the vast kingdom of Mystral relied on her tough shoulders. She was the warrior queen who had saved them when the white mist came. She was the one who fought with the fluffy clouds full of poisonous illusions. Her heart, stoned from years of battle, survived just because her life mission was yet to be fulfilled.

When the last ray of sun disappeared at horizon, she played with the big ring that was shining on her left hand thumb. Its blue waters were stained with red miniature figurines depicting her female blood line. All powerful women doomed to live and die alone. The process of procreation was revealed by the circle of magi only for couple of hours. After that their memories were erased.

Now her time came and though she usually didn't give much attention to the so called feelings, she had to admit that most probably the emptiness tormenting her diaphragm was anxiety. She kicked a small pebble in (maybe sic!) frustration, throwing it away in the abyss below. The pebble was falling with the speed of a rocket and landed with a small explosion on a bed of green moss.

"The hell with it. Let's finish it as I have to check the western gates of the black moor."

She turned and set forth to the grandiose granite bunker. When she walked, the wind didnt dare blow, the animals didnt dare breath, the trees didnt dare murmur their leaves. Only 2,000 m below in the chasm the moss was waving and modulating itself unaware of the blasphemy. It had been sleeping for too long and now it wanted to see the world. Rustling, stirring and shaking, the emerald blanket made way to a giant centaur with green eyes and pouty lips. When he yodeled happily, the sky cracked and the magi in the bunker met fear for the first time in centuries. They grabbed the flabbergasted queen and pushed her in the procreation room, locking her inside.

Too focused on the silly and defiant scream, at first she didn't notice the device popping up slowly from the floor. But then she gasped when she saw the huge disk on which there was a male trunk with 12 legs, 12 arms and 6 phalli. The lack of upper heads disturbed her the most. The hands were inviting her to come closer. Magically drawn by the monster, she took 1, 2, 3, 4 steps and...

"Oh you, mother f...s, yelled the queen. You impotent bastards. All this time..."
With a sudden move she pulled the short silver sword that kept her hair in a bun and slashed the 6 magi into small jumping pieces. Sprinkled with green blood, she smashed the door in one kick and run stormily outside. Her hair was following her silently brushing the marble floor. Right in front of the bunker the giant centaur was still yodeling and smelling flowers.

"Oh, someone is really pissed off." he said, slowly clopping toward her. "Do you wanna ride me?"
Bemused the queen kept silence, while taking in the meaning of what she was witnessing. Pure madness. But something in his eyes, something that did not belong to this world forced her to throw away the sword.
"What's your name, stranger?"
"Moss. Green Moss."

The future chronicles would mention 1234 movies made to honor their love story.

Fever

2012-01-24T09:39:00.000-08:00

This post is dedicated to @Crucifire. Here you go Jay, you ordered fever, fever you get. :)

It was one of those days when everybody harassed him: his parents in the morning (asking him for money), the taxi driver (who obviously took the long route), the colleagues (who kept asking stupid questions), his boss (who threw on his desk 3 more projects with tight deadlines), his friends (who called him every ten minutes to tell him imbecile jokes), the cleaning lady (who wanted to use the vacuum cleaner under his chair), the people in the streets who were rushing grumpy and brutal through the city.

By the time he touched base in the evening, fever stealthily took over his limbs, his skin and his eyes. Everything in him was burning and of course nobody was waiting for him at home (his folks attended their weekly bridge session and they would stay over night at their friend's place). He felt miserable, helpless and for once he wished he could cry like a baby. He crashed on the bed trying to figure out if an aspirin would help. Where was a fairy when you needed one?

His cell started to ring. With excruciating efforts, he took it out from the jeans pocket and had a look at the display. Unknown caller.
"Hello?"
"Hello Alex. I will be there in a second."
The line went off. What the hell? Who was that? Ahhh, leave it. Too tired, too sick, too sleepy. Right when he was on the point to doze off, he felt soothing hands cooling off his forehead. Too scared and bewildered he kept his eyes closed. Fine and long fingers were unbuttoning his black shirt... He gulped when the silky fabric almost melted under the magic touch.

A divine voice told him then:
"No matter what I am going to do, please, do not open your eyes. This is the price you have to pay if you want to be healthy again."
Unzipping of his jeans was definitely the toughest test of will he had ever experienced. He simply kept his breath and only registered the expert moves in removing the pants. He remained naked, overpowered, defeated by a temperature that most probably would have made the mercury in a thermometer explode.
"You are so handsome my dear Alex."
Her sigh tested his will again, but unbelievably for him, the restrain proved stronger.

He heard how she mixed something in a bowl and then he let himself float through an amalgam of sensations. A butter like gel that smelled of honey and myrrh was massaged into each and every centimeter of his body. Fever increased even more threatening with internal combustion. He did not panic though. She tucked him with care and urged him to have patience while she was in the kitchen. After a while she came back and fed him spoons of hot soup that tasted heavenly. In the end she sat near him and put his head on her breasts. His eyelashes fluttered, but she kissed them.
"Not yet, my dear Alex. Not yet."

He woke up next morning energized and at peace. He had finally understood what unconditional love meant. Ten years later, he was still a puzzle for the medical world. They even invented a name for his condition: Alex fever. The only man in the world who had daily fever attacks and who was mysteriously healed over night.

Morning star

2012-01-23T07:34:00.000-08:00

This post is written on @vivekh13th 's request, inspired from a great Romanian poet and dedicated to all who still believe in love, even when this love seems impossible.

Once upon a time there was a young fair princess beautiful as the moon. Every night she went to the window and with shy eyes she was frantically looking in the starred sky. On one of the brightest stars lived a young and lonely prince. Right before midnight their quest to touch their fingers came alive... They stretched their arms for hours, but the distance was too big.

The desires in them grew big and menaced to consume them. The princess lost weight and her brown eyes floated in tears most of time. The prince almost fell of his planet and frustration made him tear crystal rocks with bare hands.

Fortunately the princess' grandmother was also a witch and impressed by the girl's sorrow she whispered her a tip: "Tell him to look into the mirror from your room and once he sees the cosmos path encourage him to slide down to you." Right the very next night the miracle happened and the prince had the slide of his life and he entered the mirror. At first the princess could not believe her eyes. Step by step, with heart drumming, she touched the shiny surface. And then she felt it. The warmth of his finger tips. He smiled and grabbed her hand.

"Dear princess, my father is the sky, and my mother is the ocean, but please allow me to show you my devotion."
"Sweet prince, you are my life. Hence please allow me to be your dedicated wife."

Crying of happiness, the prince found in himself unknown powers. They jumped to the Moon, then floated into the void watching the stars from the other galaxies, then they danced through Saturn rings, they played hide-and-seek on Mars and they rest on Venus, right before the sun-rise. He brought her back and asked her to wait for him as he would come again.

High up in the air the Sun and the Moon witnessed everything and they didn't like what they saw. Did world need another tragic story? Better stop it while it was still crude. They gathered forces and one perfect ray at dawn broke the Princess mirror.

The Prince was immortal, but even after his princess died with the forehead on the windowpane, he kept trying to stretch his arm in an attempt to touch her fingers. His efforts made his body glistening. The sweat drops falling in silver and blue rivers turned the far away planet into the most shining star in the sky.

The Morning Star.

Lost letter

2012-01-22T09:26:00.000-08:00

He read the last page of "Going Postal" by Pratchett both with a groan and a sigh of relief. He hated it from the first words...but what he could do? His wife had been pestering him with this book for months, calling him illiterate during one of their weekends fights. After ten years of marriage, he didn't manage to find a balance in their getting along balloon. If it hadn't been for her money, her beauty and her perfect image as a wife, he would most probably had given up by now.

Tired, he took off his reading glasses and poured himself a whiskey. He gulped the burning liquid without blinking. He closed his eyes, but something from that damn book was bugging him. How a letter, lost in the mailing process, was delivered after many years and changed dramatically some lives. Why cant extraordinary things like this one happen in real life too?

He had no idea that such a letter had been addressed to him and sent to him 10 years before. It arrived on his marriage day and was burned quickly in the toilet. In it there were words of never-ending love and dedication. Words that used to make him glow with self-confidence. Words that used to make him feel like an undefeated king. Words which ended that day flushed in a mundane latrine gesture.

"Honey, are you done with the book? Tonight we have your boss at dinner, and you know how much he loves Pratchett."
"Yes, dear. Finished it."
"And?"
"And what?"
"Did you make a mental note about some memorable moments from it?"
"For God's sake. Yes, I did. Happy?"
"Hey, don't be aggressive. I'm just trying to help you out. So instead of starting a fight, why don't you tell me what are you going to talk about."
"How a lost letter even if received after 10, 20, 30 years can change your life."

For a second the wife's heart skipped a beat, and her lower lip started to tremble. She got her posture back immediately. Nobody was with her that day in the toilet.

"You are ridiculous as always, but better something than nothing."

The smashing of the door made him startle.

The expedition

2012-01-21T09:46:00.000-08:00

Whenever he entered the majestic library he felt uneasy and a creepy restlessness was overpowering his body. He had always tried to explain such feelings and he used to blame the heavy mahogany furniture, the thick black carpets (an inheritance from an old and senile rich aunt) and the large windows with stained glass that blocked even the brightest sun to soften the inside darkness.

It had been snowing endlessly of late and the big castle was cold like a corpse in a coffin. The library was the only place where he could warm up his hands afflicted by arthritis. The world had moved on to a new era, but he preferred to stay stuck in a past where his father and grandfather led brave expeditions into the wildest parts of India. They had been ones of the most beloved officers of her majesty the queen. By comparison he proved to be just a coward right from his first encounter with the beasts, when he fainted and stayed in a coma for six months. He had woken up in London.

He went to the fireplace, stared the burning wood and put his palms on the warm mantelpiece. Peace and a state of well being almost made him shudder with pleasure. He raised his eyes and admired the painting hanging above. The last and most precious trophy of his father and apparently the reason for his shameful collapse. A white tigress. The animal was laying down on a bed of green leaves with a big red bullet wound right in the heart. Its big eyes were empty.

"I'm glad you died, bitch. Because of you everybody pointed the finger at me, calling me a coward. I wish I was there to take that skin out of yours, while you were still alive."

He turned his back and with shuffling steps got out of the room. He didn't see the tear rolling down from one of the animal's eye. The man would never know that day the tigress actually protected him from a cobra until human help arrived. The tigress understood she was going to die, but as long as he would be alive, her life would mean something to the world.

The clock maker

2012-01-19T09:48:00.000-08:00

Midnight was embracing the small and asleep village. In the little alleys, the spirits of the nights tried to live their short life. The old clock-maker was wide awake as always. The constellations had spoken to him and let him know the moment had come.

He took out from the purple trunk all the ingredients he had been gathering for centuries: moon dust, volcano ashes, deep sea weeds, blue crystals from the secret Himalayan mines,and 2 delicate clepsydras made of intense black glass. He went to his workbench, and started drawing in violet ink a sun-dial never seen before. As soon as he sketched the oscillator, he made a step back and waited.

The objects on the table were vibrating. The genesis had begun. Very soon, the clepsydras were grown arms, which moved with precision and greed in the direction of life essences and soon they filled themselves with a scarlet viscosity. Fat and heavy they sighed, preparing for the worse yet to come.

The clock-maker brushed his fingers along their curves and clepsydras started to tremble and change their shape. Crying and shouting in pain they united in a perfect thin and vertical minute-hand and second-hand. Thus time was suspended. The drops of sweat on the clock-maker's forehead fell on the floor as diamonds.

On the other side of the world, he was waiting for a bus. Across the street a girl was trying to call a cab. She definitely was in a hurry, but her moves were clumsy and nobody seemed to notice her. After 5 minutes he realized she was actually invisible and she didn't know this. His heart was beating like the bars of a glockenspiel strongly hit with metal heads.

With eyes full of love, he made a terrible slalom through the cars and caught her in his arms. Suddenly, the world saw her and a perfect vertical ray of sunshine spiked through the smog and caressed their heads.

The old water pump

2012-01-17T08:56:00.000-08:00

They opened the door laughing like crazy and throwing their coats and phones in the middle of the bed. This is what they used to do one Sunday every month. Traveling by train one hour and then coming back by taxi. On the back seat, they texted each other dirty words, while promising sweet pleasures once they got into their cozy home. Even after so many years, he could not help himself and he had tried to grope her, but she had slapped him easily, frowning and chuckling.

Once inside and rolls of laughter faded away, their hands found their path and, in a rhythm only known to them, began a flaming rumba. When the fire threatened to burn their minds, they looked into each other eyes and yelled: "Hungryyyyyyyyyy...." As they did everything together, the kitchen soon turned into a vegetables war. After one hour what was supposed to be a salad looked more like a green peanut butter, which anointed their bodies.

They went into the shower and they rediscovered themselves with the same curiosity and love. Sponges and rose flavored oil delicately caressed the skin. One hour later they fell asleep embraced while on TV their favorite show was still running...

"How is our new patient doing today?" asked the grey-haired doctor.
The nurse looked up from the file she was reading, sighed and said:
"Oh well, she calmly woke up, washed herself, dressed and then she went out and hugged the old water pump until she fell asleep and we had to take her in. I wonder what is going on in her mind so that she could stay like this for more than 12 hours without moving. Each and every day."
"We will never know, chief-nurse. She is a lost case. Keep an eye on her though, as tomorrow we are going to get rid of that ugly pump."

The queen of hearts

2012-01-16T08:51:00.000-08:00

It had been raining for 4 days already. Low, fat and black clouds were hanging over the neighborhood. The streams of water were thrusting the gap-toothed gutters with endless, violent, erotic moves.
The queen got close to the small window. She didn't want to miss king's monthly visit to his vacation villa. For sure he would be late today given the weather and the gloomy forecast.
Restless, she turned back to her loom and with delicate moves finished a heart made of red silky threads. She took the patch, admired it and then dipped it into a jar of green honey. She giggled remembering king's bias for menthol.

The commotion outside made the queen shiver with expectation and run to the window. Here he was. His hands wearing gloves, his feet in brownish boots, his body warmed by the long leather coat. He had just got off the car and he was helping his wife and his children with the luggage and ten plastic bags full of food. Oh my...they were going to have a feast. In less than 30 seconds, they entered the villa across the street.

Queen couldn't see his eyes, but she had a good glimpse of his happy smile. It was more than enough. Determined and refusing to cry, she started to sing, grabbed the scissors, and cut a perfect square of skin from her belly. With trembling fingers she sew the missing patch on the dress that was waiting on the tailor's dummy. It took her 10 years, but now the dress was finished.

Dancing she took the dipped in honey patch and stuck it to herself. The hair-dryer finalized the rest of the process.

After such a long time she looked into the mirror. Now she was truly the queen of hearts.

Polyandrous dream

2012-01-13T09:10:00.000-08:00

The rice was steaming in the big cauldron. Old habits from the witching times had died centuries ago, but she kept a little magic just for herself. Now she had a big house with veranda and a luxurious garden where she planted hundreds of blue roses and black jasmines. The deep, sweet flavors were mixing with the spicy smell of the curry and the tamarind.

She wiped the sweat from her forehead and smiled when the old cuckoo clock screamed desperately 6 pm, 6 pm, 6 pm... Poor cuckoo had never understood the modern chip it had been implanted with and it suffered of digital depression.

She could hear their smiles from thousands of kilometers. They were coming home. Her handsome and beloved husbands: Sunshine, Fire and Sparkle. Tonight was the monthly special dinner followed by their favorite activity: turning yet to be shot movies into reality.

When they entered the house, the oriental carpets rushed to touch their feet and bring them closer to her. They embraced each other, reading their bodies and their minds without words. It was the group's gift. They decided it was high time the bond between them went through the ultimate test.

They jumped through the glass well... underground where the cinema hall was hiding. A huge screen, popcorn and a heart-shaped bed were the only items they needed. As soon as they signed the mental agreement, their shadows left their bodies and slowly glided away to the screen.

The movie began... First tango in Venice... Madly and beautiful erotic scenes, in which the youth goddess was possessed in a passionate roller-coaster by 3 Siamese brothers. The purpose of the flick was to explain the meaning of one of their previous movies... The last death in Paris. In that one, the goddess was left all alone. And they wanted to bring back love and hope.

After 2 hours they crushed into the bed. They fell asleep immediately. From the ceiling the popcorn was delicately snowing.

One night in Vegas

2012-01-11T11:01:00.000-08:00

The casino was fornicating. The drizzling, rhythmic sounds of the machines and the buzzing voices made the manager smirk with immense pleasure. He was walking slowly, brushing easily the blackjack tables, checking shortly the buttoned blouses of the tall waitresses, blinking nervously whenever the chips fell furiously on the marbled floor.

He usually went unnoticed, but for more than 2 years a pair of black eyes had been constantly drinking his aura. Behind the counter, the cashier was counting the bills in an endless ritual. She had prepared herself for this night. With patience and unconditional adoration. Midnight was close.

When the small ruby watch on her hand ticked 00:00 she unleashed the potion. Suddenly the slot machines screens got stuck to winning combinations and began to spit bananas. Hundreds, thousands of bananas. Havoc overwhelmed the halls bathed in soothing songs. People rushed outside in a hysterical wave.

Soon the building was on the point to crash under the yellow burden. Without any hurry, the cashier was swimming through the fruits toward her object of worshiping. The manager was choking. She caught him right in time and extracted with her hungry tongue a piece of soft creamily banana right from his throat.

He gasped for air and she smiled cheekily while swallowing.

A brave new crazy world was born.

Mortal dilemma

2012-01-10T10:50:00.000-08:00

Earth had been poisoned and food slowly disappeared. In spite of the scarcity human race stubbornly survived eating the sand on the beaches. In the caves near the seas a shy woman was hiding. She had always lived in the shade as otherwise, her secret would have killed her instantly. She had fruits instead of breasts. And not two, but six.

One pear, one apple, one fig, one cherry, one lemon and one mango. She milked herself every day, thus feeding her body with the sweetest nectar in that grey and hopeless world. Her fruits needed just a bit of sun-rise. She was lonely and she spent the time drawing and dreaming of a man who would love her and treasure her.

One morning she got out to catch the early golden rays and she undressed with stealthily moves. Behind a wet rock, a tramp was filling his delicate mouth with bristle sand. He went transfixed when he saw the beautiful weirdness. His arm stretched and touched her shoulder.

The woman jumped screaming, but then her eyes met his and she felt the unstoppable need to sooth the pain that was coming from deep down. She urged him to get close and offered her food. Waves of pleasure and pain started to hit successively her body.

He stopped only when the cherry was the only fruit left. She collapsed almost drained of life. The tramp had tears in his eyes. He wanted to repay her generosity, but he didn't know how.

"What can I do for you my mysterious woman? Tell me what I can do!"
"Will you stay with me in the caves?" whispered the woman. I promise I will try to turn the ugly scars in new, magnificent fruits one more time. And they will all be yours forever."

The man looked at the blue sky, at the ocean and at groups of people eating the sand from the beaches.

"And leave this behind... never see my fellows again?" muttered the tramp. "I can't."
"Then please give me the peace."

With a stoned heart, the man ate the cherry and hold her body until it got cold. From that day on whenever he had to eat sand, he would tragically weep, as the bitter-sweet taste refused to go away.

The druid

2012-01-09T10:23:00.000-08:00

The path through the woods was as always full of alluring spirits that were trying to suck a bit of his mystical energy. He let them do it as this was the perfect way to nourish his importance feeling. He knew that none of them was ready to follow him in his bleak den, but his light heart did not lose hope.

Right when he was on the point to take care of the emerald lake, out of nowhere a pink steam started to float around him. And here she was the outstanding princess of nothingness. He heard about her curse, but he has never believed she truly existed.

His fingers touched with tenderness the transparent mist and his heart almost exploded. She replied with rainbow colors that softened his long hair. A long time locked in the darkness love covered the earth with Olympian trembling rocks that were piercing the Earth in a roaring earthquake.

The green fairies decided to put an end to this silly game and sent the youngest of them to give the druid the potion of indifference.

He drank from the cup unaware of the consequences. He turned his back to his happiness and went home where the fairies also arranged for him a beautiful nymph.He smiled cheerfully, satisfied with the result of his waiting.

Only at times, he shuddered, puzzled by a day dream in which he could see himself in a mirror having pink hair.

Tomorrow

2012-01-08T08:32:00.000-08:00

How should the table be arranged today? She decided to go with scarlet hues. Napkins, plates, candles, silvery, bowls, decorative leaves, glasses, tapestry...everything had a little bit of red in them.
She had cooked his favorite food and bought his favorite wine. She watched the ticking clock. This time hope was more intense than ever. 5 minutes passed by, then 10, then 30, then 1 hour.
She picked up the phone. No answer. After 10 minutes though she received an sms: "Tomorrow the same hour."

The second day she started everything all over again. The napkins, the plates, the candles, the silvery, the bowls, decorative leaves, glasses, tapestry...this time she had chosen blue hues.
One hour and 10 minutes later she received an sms: "Tomorrow the same hour."

She stubbornly repeated this ritual for good years, day by day. Until one evening when there was nobody to read the sms anymore.

The silence of the corpse was deafening.

The fisher-woman

2012-01-05T10:28:00.000-08:00

The fisher-woman woke up that morning with a miraculous feeling inside her. She had dreamed her inner mermaid after years of waiting. In their isolated village, a woman was allowed to love only when the mermaid visited her dreaming realm. It was only then that the woman could open up and receive her soul mate.

The fisher-woman went to the beach, knelt in the waves and closed her eyes smiling. Any minute now, she would feel the first touches. Clack-clack... Clack-clack. And there he was the most beautiful crab of all, dancing his claws happily and greedily.

She opened her eyes and started to laugh happily, reaching out her open palm. Their first kiss made the ocean shudder with envy. Even the whales, known for their indifference, turned their heads.

After five minutes, the sea horses appeared at shore, moving their jelly bodies impatiently. The crab was to be taken back. No questions asked.

The fisher-woman stood still for the rest of her life. Only the shining silvery pearls dripping continuously from her fingers showed she was still alive.

The last one to be seen was glistening black.

The blue roots

2012-01-04T09:57:00.000-08:00

The tree was proud, but funny. With rich and handsome crown. A tough bark, but a mellow heartwood. His leaves were singing thousand of unheard songs, attracting myriads of beings.

One day a blue bird came from thousands of miles away. Tired, but chirpy. With soft brown eyes, but strong wings. She delicately stopped on one of the branches and let one of her feathers caress a young green leaf.

The tree was startled and he suddenly felt how his sap came alive. He had just discovered generosity and affection. A world of amazing turquoise diamonds was unfolding under the pressure of an incredible, impossible and passionate love.

Up high in the sky, the Almighty Ogre didn't approve the abnormality and decided that one of them must die. So he lit up a purple cigar and spit the smoke out.

The bird fell on the ground not far away from her lover. She knew this was the end, but she refused to accept it. She dragged herself wounded up to the roots of her beloved tree, she spread her wings and with a last breath she pushed toward him a fine, almost transparent feather.

The roots trembled and they became blue.

Ode to Mumbai - reloaded

2011-11-15T09:55:00.000-08:00

So I did it. I went to the city that has been lingering through my dreams for years now. And I decided to talk about Mumbai and not about India, because this has been a travel to a a city dear to my heart for now.
I will take things chronologically...I had a superb Lufthansa flight - business class (awesome start for such a trip). We landed (I was accompanied by my best friend who had no interest in India, but she was afraid I could be kidnapped...yes you can lol) and once we stepped inside the terminal the craziness began:
-gazillions of eyes staring at us (hence I covered quickly with a shawl my daring cleavage)
-white teeth smiles and even gentle caresses when handed or taken from my fingers various official papers; :D And it wasn't as bad as it might sound
-when finally took the luggage, I went outside and tri-gazillions of eyes staring... oh boy...here we were, looking for my friends who were supposed to pick me... Weirdly enough I did not panic, but I inspired the heat and the smells...and only then I used the phone...
-hugs, kisses, emotions, recognition, locked eyes, smiles, laughter, tiredness and here we were in the car going to the hotel. And ladies and gentlemen drivers from Europe... Sorry but you are just users of some devices called cars. This is not driving what you are doing. Mumbai driving is The ULTIMATE driving...rules respected when absolutely necessary, rough streets, a continuous ti, ti,ti,ti,ti,ti,ti,ti,ti,ti,ti,ti,ti,ti,ti from thousands of cars, an uninterrupted flow in which vehicles (of all sorts) and pedestrians are passing by each other within less than half of centimeter, without stops and without accidents.
-I stayed in 2 hotels (Sahara Star and Novotel-Juhu Beach) and I am not going to make any travel reviews, but I want to send a big thank you to the cleaning teams and to their "Is everything ok, Ma'am?". I felt so pampered. :) Also a special mention to the pool and restaurant team in Novotel - you guys were so human and endearing.
-I didn't take pictures...I know...what a crime... I didn't go to the most famous landmarks...again what a crime. Instead I felt the streets, with good and bad things, I exchanged money in a bank - awesome experience that took 6 hours :D :D :D, I went to the big malls to see the new middle class on the rise, I went on Diwali and saw Ra One premiere in an Indian cinema (what else could I have asked more), I went to a spa where I let myself wrapped in saffron and massaged so badly that bruises in certain places could have given wrong ideas to anybody, I went to Mannat - SRK's house, I drank a splendid devil coffee specialty in a CCD coffee-shop, I went to Linking Road and saw my friend bargaining with the most stubborn sellers (successfully), I crossed Bandra Sea-Link 4 times, I went to Gateway of India and bought small shiny, very shiny, too shiny trifles, I bought a green salwar kameez and apparently I looked good in it, I ate in a restaurant (questionable for any European taste) the best pav bhaji in the world with my hand (and no, I didn't die and I wasn't sick as many expected and wished. :P), and I would do it again any second, I saw some slums, I saw people sleeping under bridges, I saw mountains of garbage, I saw the new constructions, but also the neighborhoods with old colonial architecture, I went on Marine Drive and visited the Aquarium, and I saw elegant cricketers in the field. I was fortunate enough to be able to see from my hotel a full day of Chhath Puja festivity, right there on the beach. Hypnotic incantations, divine music, lights, firecrackers, dances, clapping and thousands of people purifying themselves in the sea. Now I know where Andheri, Santa Cruz, Bandra, Navi Mumbai is. And I also had a first hand experience of Mumbai police in action, when my friend's car was picked up and we had to go and recover it. :D

All of these must be seen, felt, heard and smelled. Photographs cannot depict the spirit of 24 million people living in a city that almost cannot grow anymore. Photographs speak zilch about the highest level of tolerance in the world to my knowledge.

I dreamed of Mumbai and I was right to love Mumbai even before I saw it. Because above all, Mumbai meant for me the people I met and the love that I felt exuding everywhere. Thank you Jay, Natty, Sunil, Shakti, Tush, Vishal and everybody else who came to see me even for a couple of hours, thank you to all the people who called me just to hear my voice, thank you "bosses" from the rickshaws who always told us that "haivei" (aka high-way) was straight ahead, no matter where we were... :D Thank you Arjun for deciding to stay among us, even if this time we could not see each other. Thank you beautiful and patient ladies from the banks and receptions, thank you shoe sellers for helping me put the boots on as if I was a queen, thank you to all security guys and gals at malls, hotels and public institutions who checked everybody for bombs (never felt so safe in my life), thank you Mumbai for giving me such a warm welcome.

I will come back to see you and this time to criticize you as well, as you deserve the best. :)
Love, M.

PS. And no, I didn't see any cows in the streets. (this is for all those with stupid prejudices)
PPS. Did I mention we had 11 days with 36 degrees? Eat this dying of cold Europeans.

Buffy or our vampires related prejudices

2011-07-31T01:23:00.000-07:00

This is a post dedicated to those who haven't actually seen Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV series) or to people like me who tried couple of scattered episodes and they didn't understand anything or simply dismissed it, being a thing with vampires and a blonde chick who kicks their asses.

Well let me put it shortly. Buffy is not about vampires, witches or demons. Buffy is also not about the good beating the bad.
Buffy is about heroes with flaws and monster with hearts. Buffy is about friendship and the bad things we do to our friends, just because sometimes we take them for granted and forget we have to listen to them, too. Buffy is about the painful process of taking the right decision and about forgiveness. Buffy is about redemption and sin. Buffy is about betrayals. Buffy is about impossible love and normal love, which sometimes we have the tendency to despise as being too dull. Buffy is about books and the powerful knowledge they bring. Buffy is about family life with all its ups and downs. Buffy is also about the pain of losing the dear ones and watching helpless how they go into nothingness.

Who would have expected such depths from a TV series with a non-generous title...perfect for our harsh mockery? Guess what? Give it a try and you will rediscover basic emotions. You will rediscover the pleasure of an incredibly well woven story. You will fall in love with the humor of the situations, you will love and hate vampires like Angel and Spike (interesting names, no?), you will giggle with demons like Clam or Anyanka, you will fear the awesomeness of a witch like Willow, you will fall for the goofy, big-hearted and valiant friend like Xander and you will suffer along with Buffy's hurdles to keep balanced a world at peril.

Simply enjoy Buffyverse. You will thank me after that.

Adventure pack

2011-07-08T09:58:00.000-07:00

So I have this soft spot for adventure movies as they remind me of childhood and of times when everything was possible. This is why I ended up with such a pack when I was at home in spring. On Monday I decided it is high time I plunged into fantastic deeds and awesome worlds. The outcome? Close to disaster and here it is why.

1. Beauty and the Beast (2009) - I have always loved the story, so I was preparing myself in a cozy position on the couch with a cup of hot tea, ready to let myself impressed by the beauty who will turn the monster into the prince. Bang... First of all, the Beauty was dressed in a mini tight leather skirt with an even tighter leather blouse, pushing up 2 impressive boobs and permanent erected nipples. Because of the nipples I managed to see the pouty botox full lips only toward the end of the movie. I watched it fascinated as this is the kind of production that should be studied by future movie makers in the category "NO - THIS IS NOT THE WAY TO MAKE A MOVIE! THIS IS HELL!"

2. The Season of the Witch (2011) - I think Nicolas Cage was in a coma when he signed to play in it. I still have to mention the dead monks, killed by black plague, turned into zombies and crawling on the walls and the ceiling of the monastery like some small coal dark bats, resembling for couple of seconds with small bombers (?!) making weird maneuvers. Awesome! To be seen only if you are drunk. Dead drunk.

3. The Phantom (2010) - Apparently this is the first of a mini-series, but I aint gonna search for the rest. If I want heroes who can fly, I watch Superman. If I want heroes with high-tech, indestructible costumes (Phantom's one is colored in purple!), I watch Batman or even better (Iron Man), if I want conspiracies I read Dan Brown. They tried to pull all of these together and the result is a non-convincing melange. On the plus side stays the good-bad Abel Vandermaark, who is ok as a dual character.

4. Sanctum (2011) - Explorers inside underground caves. Lots of water. Lots of deaths. Even more water. Play the first 5 minutes, so you can see the most impressive entrance in a cave, though if it is for real I am sure you will find it on youtube as well.

5. The Sorcerer's Apprentice (2011) - I had the feeling Nicolas Cage made this movie on the same sets where no 2 above was shot. Same hair-cut, same clothes style. I guess these 2 came in the same offer. You know... 2 in 1. In the morning, you are a knight, in the evening you are a wizard. Try if you are a die-hard fan of Monica Bellucci and if you like iron made eagles flying.

6. The Seven Adventures of Sinbad (2010) - LOL. Double LOL. Triple LOL. Man...All of the above are diamonds, jewels. I would not spoil for you the pleasure of making acquaintance of the worst flick ever. But I cannot help myself and I have to describe one scene. Imagine some guys on an island, who are thrown in the middle of the ocean as the island turns to be a huge whale. After drifting for a while they are picked by some dinosaurs-birds and brought to another island to be eaten. In the next 5 minutes the guys pop up with things like torches, matches, lighters, lanterns and believe it or not even a GPS. Muahahahahaha.... I do not understand the 3 stars rating on IMDB. It is beyond my rational process.

7. True Grit (2010) - Western is not among my favorites, but I like Jeff Bridges, so I accepted this small derogation. Not a bad idea, as I enjoyed it for a one time watch. It's a simple and enjoyable story. Well played by everybody, and I have to give credit to the Coen brothers who this time delivered a decently directed product. For rainy afternoons.

8. Eight Below (2006) - Awwwwwwww.... This is a cuteness alert movie. With dogs. And not any dogs. Huskies and Alaskan Malamutes. If you do not hate snow like me, you will cry and clap. You will weep and yell. You will melt like an iceberg because of global warming. Beautiful and touching. Recommended for animal lovers, but also for people whose sensibility did not disappear. Thumb up.

To be continued, as the Adventure Pack still has some more offers in it. :)

Cinematic hotchpotch

2011-07-02T04:41:00.000-07:00

Last week I saw several new (sic!) movies and revisited some old ones. Here are my feelings and read without any worries. No spoilers as I am not a classic reviewer. In absolute random order I present you:

1. One.Two.Three (2008) - Leaving aside the fact that it is a sort of a stealthy copy of Blame it on the bellboy do you know that state of mind when you watch something, but you do not hear or see anything, being too engrossed in thoughts? Well, this is the main advantage of the flick. Perfect meditation inducer. I do though remember something from it - the family name of the 3 main characters - Laxminarayan. :D

2. Umrao Jaan (2006) - I have not seen the more acclaimed version with Rekha so do not jump on me. And no matter what people say, I loved Aishwarya in this one...in spite of the fact that her beauty is so intense that you have the feeling you watch a PC animated character. The songs, the colors, the lyrics, the slow rhythm still touched my soul. I thought 5 years later a re-watch will annoy me, but it was not the case.

3. 127 Hours (2010) - Danny Boyle did not disappoint me. He managed to make a good movie with perfect first 20 minutes, a disciplined artistry in the middle, well played by James Franco and incredibly intense 15 last minutes. I suffer of claustrophobia and this movie did not help me at all in taming this condition. But it is worthy of my appreciation and thumb up.

4. Anjaana Anjaani (2010) - A bitter sweet romantic comedy (?) would be a Hollywood teaser. Two strangers meeting in a suicide point. The rest you can easily imagine. The kind of movie perfect to waste time with it on a Sunday, when nothing else is on TV, all your friends are out of town and Internet is not working...oh and yes, the room with the books is accidentally closed and the key is lost.

5. Australia (2008) - I avoided it all this time as I am not a fan of Hugh Jackman (I checked it 3 times his name to be sure I spelled it correctly). After exactly 35 minutes the folder called Australia suffered the Shift Delete combination. Boring even if you are doing your nails or straightening your hair, while it plays.

6. No one killed Jessica (2011) - A film with unfulfilled dramatic potential. I need a second try to understand whose fault is. Otherwise interesting and touching at times. But it fails to wake up in you the frustration and the anger which were obviously targeted. Recommended anyway as "something else".

7. Guzaarish (2010) - Man...10 years ago I would have poured tons of tears on this one. I mean come on... sexy paralyzed guy and a married nurse (beautiful like an icon) who has been taking care of him for more than 10 years, loving him secretly... Oh my God... But life is a bitch, and apparently I became one, too. No tear... Sigh... Give it a try though if you are in a gooey mood.

8. Kaminey (2009) - Watched it again (proper high quality version this time with a proper translation) and I loved it. Perfect combination of action, darkness, adventure, clumsiness (yes clumsiness), slight sick humor, bad...really bad interlopes and a good ending. Music brilliantly embedded. Lessons for life presented in a non-invasive manner. With an honest heart I can say it is one of the best Hindi movies of the last 10 years. A small masterpiece in its genre.

Now go and watch something and keep the world of movies alive. :)

And here we go again...

2011-06-19T04:27:00.000-07:00

....with more random thoughts on random movies...

Megan is Missing (2011) - documentary like movie about teenage girls kidnapped and most probably killed (in the end) by Internet "lovers". Some pretty disturbing images and also a very bleak image about a generation without purpose, ideals and any firm guidelines through the life.

The Little Fockers (2010) - definitely the worst of the series, but this does not spoil the pleasure of watching Robert de Niro, Dustin Hoffman (this time he is learning flamenco in Spain to become a sex magnet...LOL) and Barbra Streisand.

The Rite (2011) - when I watch such movies, I always find only one explanation. Actors like Anthony Hopkins do need their permanent pocket money. Even so he is doing his best as an exorcist priest, but also as a possessed priest. O_O

7 Khoon Maaf (2011) or Seven Murders Forgiven is a Hindi movie, which I dont know exactly whether I liked or not. Still it weirdly reminded me of fantastic realism and I guess this is its strong point in my opinion (other critics dismissed the movie exactly for this reason). It is definitely a brand new cinematic experience for Hindi cinema, one pleasant for the eye. Pryanka Chopra, in spite of her already schematic and branded talent, is growing as an actress and I congratulate her for choosing such a role.

Aetbaar (2004) - Oh boy... All I can say is that Bipasha looks much better 7 years later. At that time she was a doll without expression or rather with bad expreesions.

Anji (2004) - a Telugu movie which tells a similar story to Indiana Jones. Yes you are allowed to laugh. I did all the way, especially during the item songs. Involuntary humor. And I dont care it won National Film Award for Best Special Effects.

The Borgias - a hit without a doubt

2011-06-17T09:56:00.000-07:00

Another brilliant series released in 2011, out of which we could enjoy only one season. Again I started watching it with reluctance as I read too many books about this topic in the past. And because of this I was already set-up with the clicheic image of a cruel, blood thirsty, incestuous and poisoning family. And I wasn't in the mood to see such perverted gore. Still as always my love for movies said: "Woman, give it a try!".

And what a surprise I had. An incredible Jermey Irons who seems more refined than ever and who will remain in the history of TV series as the funniest, wittiest, most ubiquitous and vicious Pope. He is like an apricot - ripe, mellow, sweet with a bitter, tough and cyanide kernel inside. I have to give the credit to the screen writer, too of course, who knew to choose the best lines, but beyond this...the easiness of Irons to put such an artistry at work is magnificent.

The rest of the cast is also intelligently chosen and I want to highlight Michel Muller as King Charles VIII, who is crazily hilarious. A thumb up with all my heart and an out-loud laugh, which did not cease, even though several days have passed since I finished it watching.

Do not miss such a splendor. I am sure you will come back here and you will say I was right.
PS. Music, scenery, atmosphere, camera, editing... Oscar worthy.

The Tudors and other games...

2011-06-14T10:05:00.000-07:00

Topic number 1

Well...I managed to see them all... The Tudors - 4 seasons... in one week and a half. Most probably one of the best historical TV series ever made. In the beginning I was so reluctant... I saw so many movies/plays about Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII...that I said to myself...why should I give this a try?

After a few slow paced episodes I got caught. For good. Yes the actor has nothing from the real Henry in physical appearance, but oh boy...he is a treat for the eye and soul. The story stretches the facts as they were narrated by the chroniclers of the time and often it gives some fancy explanations, but each and every image is a masterpiece (music, scenery, direction, script)...

After I saw the last episode, I read for almost 6 hours everything about Henry's England. What a joy and what a pleasure. This is how history should be taught in school.

Try it and then search the portraits of his six wives and let yourself fascinated by their lives and destinies.

As a conclusion - Anne Boleyn wasn't a slut at all. Neither a witch. Just a very intelligent and educated woman, who did not realize unfortunately how hysteric and paranoiac her husband, the king, could be. And that costed her head.

PS. I do not understand why Henry considered Anne Cleves ugly. By comparison, Jane Seymour and Katherine Howard (who were considered beautiful) are ugly like hell. Just check their portraits and you will see. But I guess men's tastes in women will always remain a mystery.

Topic number 2

This prolonged weekend I finished The Hunger Games - Suzanne Collins. Phewww...what a ride. Ate it in 2 days all together. It is supposed to be a sci-fi for juniors...teenagers. The style is simple, without fancy stuff. Characters slightly unbalanced. But the narrative thread simply keeps you turn the pages and sometimes skip lines just to see what is happening.
This is again another proof that people, no matter their background or education always yearn for stories, for tales to be told and heard... It is written in our DNA.
Recommended even for those who smirk.

To be continued...

This and that...

2011-06-10T09:15:00.000-07:00

As I said some days ago on Twitter, I will share some of my thoughts on some books and movies I have been dealing with lately.
Because of my chaotic life in the last 3 months, I could not focus on serious stuff...so I grabbed anything at hand without thinking too much about quality, fame, must read/watch, etc. So here they are in an absolute random order.

1. Marian Keyes - Rachel's Holiday

Supposedly chick lit from what I heard, the book focuses on a young woman who is a drug addict. She lives a sweet life in New York, doing nothing, going to parties, pouring all kind of drugs in her, then leaving for Ireland in a rehab center. Everything beautiful, but unfortunately the character seemed surreal to me. Maybe because I am coming from a country where normal people coming from normal families work their asses to move on from one month to another.

2. Craig Russell - Eternal
Crime fiction with a slow pace and lots of good information about Hamburg. It also made me check the most famous mummies in the world. The killer had some pretty gore MO. Entertaining reading. But not for beginners into thrillers.

3. Philippa Carr - The Black Swan
LOL
PS. No connection to the movie. And because I respect any writer, I say this is a very good material to be used for translations. You know...you learn the basic - Give me that, go there, the sky is blue, etc. Brilliant from this point of view.

4. The Killing - TV series (Season 1)
Saw 10 episodes on a Sunday. I couldn't move from the couch. A mix atmosphere of Twin Peaks and Harper's Island. Finally a police woman who is not attractive at all and makes you like her for her coldness and apparent normality. Gloomy weather all the time. Depressing music and story. Awesome.

5. Fringe - TV Series (Season 3)
Guys who are doing Fringe are from another planet so help me God. Watched all the episodes (20 something)in 2 days and a half. Didn't eat much. The episode where the characters turn into comics heroes - pure genius. After X Files, the best Sci-Fi touched series ever made.

6. Black Swan - the movie
This was a thing made for Natalie Portman, who is doing her job perfectly. No question, no doubt about it. The climax image when the black swan gets to life is so clicheic that it can blind anybody. Music - superb. Schizophrenia and the path of the artist toward perfection were supposed to impress me. But nope. All in all a good movie, but trying to throw at me an art movie subject dressed in an alluring dark, mysterious commercial blanket did not manage to convince me.

To be continued as always. :)

A "must see" list of Romanian movies

2011-02-20T01:29:00.000-08:00

First of all let me tell you that Romanian cinema, like all the other Eastern European cinema schools, knew its glory during communism years. Most probably because of censorship, creators were forced to find brilliant metaphors, enough cryptic to trick the censors, but enough suggestive to be understood by the mass audience. Romanian cinema is not an easy one and it requires an open mind, a great deal of knowledge in art cinema and a very high level of sense of humor.
After 1989 just a few movies could be compared with what was made before that. They will be listed, too as the directors deserve an applause for their efforts to adapt to an all of a sudden freedom of expression.
I will not make any comments on the movies and I will simply list them in an arbitrary order, letting you discover in time, the most incredible actors you have ever seen (without exaggerating, some of them can really tower Hollywood big names).

*Actorul si salbaticii (1975) - (Actor and the Savage)
*Adela (1985)
*Atunci i-am condamnat pe toti la moarte (1972) (Then I Sentenced Them All to Death )
*B.D. series. (B.D. intra in actiune, B.D. la munte si la mare, B.D. in alerta - Brigade Miscellaneous Steps In, Brigade Miscellaneous in the Mountains and at the Sea, Miscellaneous Brigade on the Watch)
*Balanta (1992) - (The Oak)
*Bietul Ioanide (1979) - (Memories From an Old Chest of Drawers)
*Cei care platesc cu viata (1991) - (Those Who Pay with Their Lives)
*Cel mai iubit dintre pamînteni (1993) - (Earth's Most Beloved Son)
*Ciuleandra (1987)
*Cu mîinile curate (1972) - (With Clean Hands)
*Cuibul de viespi (1986)
*De ce trag clopotele, Mitica? (1981) - (Why Are the Bells tolling, Mitica?)
*Faleze de nisip (1983) - (Sand Cliffs)
*Filantropica (2002) - (Philanthropy)
*François Villon - Poetul vagabond - (François Villon: The Maverick Poet)
*Glissando (1985)
*Ilustrate cu flori de cîmp (1974)- (Picture Postcards with Wild Flowers)
*Ion: Blestemul pamîntului, blestemul iubirii (1979) - (Ion: The Lust for the Land, the Lust for Love)
*Moara cu noroc (1955) - (Mill of Good Luck)
*Morometii (1988) - (Moromete Family)
*Nea Marin miliardar (1979) - (Uncle Marin, the Billionaire)
*Nunta de piatra (1972) - (Stone Wedding)
*Occident (2002)
*Operatiunea 'Monstrul' (1976) - (Operation Monster)
*Osânda (1976) - (The Punishment)
*O Vara de neuitat (1994) - (Unforgettable Summer)
*Padurea spânzuratilor (1964) - (Forest of the Hanged)
*Padureanca (1987) - (Forest Maiden)
*Pas in doi (1985) - (Passo Doble)
*Prin cenusa imperiului (1975) - (Through the Ashes of the Empire)
*Rascoala (1965) - (Blazing Winter)
*Reconstituirea (1971) - (Reconstruction)
*Rochia alba de dantela (1989)- (White Lace Dress)
*Secretul lui Nemesis (1985)- (Nemesis' Secret)
*Senatorul melcilor (1995) - (Snails' Senator)
*4 luni, 3 săptămâni şi 2 zile (2007) - (4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days)
*Tanase Scatiu (1976) - (A Summer Tale)
*Train of Life (1998)
*Ultima noapte de dragoste (1979) - (Last Night of Love)

I'm not saying these are the all-times best Romanian movies, but once you get through them you can have an exhaustive image about what Romanian cinema means and a green light to all the other jewels that are hiding. Bookmark this blogpost and come back and let me know your opinion once you have seen some of the above movies. :) Enjoy.

Movies that made me the way I am - part 4

2010-12-19T07:31:00.000-08:00

41. 25th Hour (2002) - I hope none of us will be faced with such terrific 24 hours when you watch yourself in the mirror and say things like "Fuck *you*, Fuck you and this whole city and everyone in it. Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at me behind my back...Fuck terrorists in fucking training. SLOW THE FUCK DOWN! Fuck the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped-up biceps. Going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jingling their dicks on my Channel 35. Fuck the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic... Fuck the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled masters of the universe. Michael Douglas, Gordon Gekko wannabe mother fuckers, figuring out new ways to rob hard working people blind. Send those Enron assholes to jail for FUCKING LIFE! You think Bush and Cheney didn't know about that shit? Give me a fucking break!..." This much, much longer speech where Edward Norton is f...g everybody smashes your brains and leaves you in blood.

42. Cape Fear (1991) - One of the remakes I adored because De Niro is playing his sleaziest role and because Juliette Lewis sucking his finger with her innocent eyes and smile is the hottest and dirtiest scene in the history of cinema.

43. About Schmidt (2002) If you are in your 20's this movie will make you think it's better live fast and by 35 you are already dead. If you are in your 40's and plus this movie will give you the final blow. Life is over. If you are in your in your 30's you feel trapped like a mouse in a treadmill, but you will fool yourself with "There is still time and I will not watch this movie again. Ever." I don't understand why Nicholson didn't win 1 million of Oscars for this role.

44. The Name of the Rose (1986) - Only a brilliant mind like Jean-Jacques Annaud's could have the guts to screen a novel by Umberto Eco. Add the perfect cast (the ugliest people in the world gathered in a 2 h carousel), the gloomy atmosphere, the mystery of a book, a camera that follows the characters greedily and you have a win of a movie. Besides "Laughter kills fear, and without fear there can be no faith, because without fear of the Devil there is no more need of God."

45. Gaslight (1944) - One of Ingrid Bergman's first roles. A black and white movie which will thrill you at best. A Cukor masterpiece, though the not so familiar with cinema history would swear this is a 100% Alfred Hitchcock. Oh and one short moral of the story...beware whom you love and trust. :)

46. Whatever happened to Baby Jane? (1962) - This is not a movie to be watched by soon to be actresses, as Bette Davis and Joan Crawford can kill instantly such desires. I mean how can you even think of getting at least as good as them. Blasphemy. My first encounter with virtual isolation. Creepy and haunting.

47. Anger Management (2003) - Because Adam Sandler, otherwise a not-to-be-mentioned-ever-actor, manages to keep up with Nicholson. It's true that for this he has to sing "I feel preety". Hilarious and a comedy to light up your heart. :D

48. Love Story (1970) - People avoid talking about it. And nowadays it seems so outdated and ridiculous. But oh boy...I cried my heart out hundreds of times. Like all the love stories depicted in flicks, such a thing does not exist in real life, so relax and wash those eyes a bit.

49. Butterflies are free (1972) - All kinds of stereotypes in this one. Overprotective mother, the handicapped person and his right to have a normal life, the sissy girl... but what interpretations. My favorite quote from this one. "Mother, you have to laugh sometime, or people will think you're a lesbian."

50.Fellinis Satyricon (1969) - Rome, homosexual love, earthquakes, a hermaphrodite demi-god, impotence, sentences stopped in the middle, decadence, visual feast, brilliant soundtrack, craziness, child exploitation (?)...what more can one ask? It makes you gasp in awe. Maybe even puke your soul out.

To be continued...

Touched by teenage-hood insanity

2010-09-29T09:04:00.000-07:00

A few nights ago I read the diary I kept when I was a teenager and I experienced a tremendous session of hysterical laughters. It's useless to mention that I found all the clichés specific to young ages (12-16): secret alphabets, schizoid moods (I quote: "I am the saddest person in this world, because X doesn't love me. Oh, my mom is going to buy me a fur cap. I am happy, happy.", miserable quotes, songs lyrics and lots of drawn hearts and incredible amounts of exclamation and question marks.

Later a sort of nostalgia hit me and I realized I was laughing because in the long process of growing up (now speedily approaching an age when I was supposed to have myself a teenage kid) I lost my innocence and the strength to reveal my feelings exactly as they were. I forgot the black and white expressions and I simmered in seas of gray tones. I forgot the pureness of writing down exactly what you feel, because it's sort of ridiculous. Mature women are supposed to be cynical or at least to show some self-confidence and a patrician resignation.

Then I decided I need to learn again to play and to my disgrace and awe I chose "poetry". For fun. Twitter style. The reaction of people was puzzling. Everybody encouraged me and they seemed highly enchanted by my little "pearls". That's why I decided to post them here,too for the record. As a back-up.

"I wrote your name on each and every stone/Then each and every step hurt my bare feet."

"I chained my words for you inside my battered heart/As you considered them too pungently tart."

"I carved your far away features in the trees bark/And then the leaves were smiling and blinking at me."

"I buried your unspoken touches deep down my body/And so I learned the howling yearning."

"Sweet surrender was my candid tribute/So why you trample it and painfully contribute?"

"Humbly my soul didn't ask you for the ticket when you came in/But why did you have to plunder it when everything was free?"

"You are smooth, and clean and green/Lemon flavored gelatin." - ode to my dish cleaner in a jingle style. :P

"I turned my eyes to you expecting a miracle/To find the wind solacing your faded wrinkle."

"Fearless and fair maiden shelter thy eyes/For thy king's heart is melting into ice."

Conclusion? Playing with words brings back pieces of genuine smiles from old times when I was not afraid to say what I was going through. Ridiculous? Maybe. But the catharsis effect deserves all the efforts and all the grins.

When you don't want anything anymore...

2010-09-22T12:47:00.000-07:00

I have just realized that there are worse things in life than pain, numbness, angst, sufferings, sadness, anger, depression...(you name all those fearful dark words). That split second when it hits you that you don't want anything anymore.
When the smallest zest of life is gone.
When desires make...poof...like soap balloons.
When you look around and you don't find any meaning whatsoever.
When you watch all those little things that were so precious, but which are now just things of no concern for you.
When future is reduced to the infinite zero, as you don't care anymore what will happen from now on.
When people seem strange puppets and you cannot understand who they are.
When nothing moves.
When void is perfect.
Fear it...as it is the scariest and the freakiest brain click in your life.

Movies that made me the way I am - part 3

2010-08-29T01:42:00.000-07:00

And here we go again with some movies that marked my life.

31. Cast Away (2000) - It takes an outstanding performance for an actor to keep on his shoulders more than half of a movie. Tom Hanks makes you feel small. And unprepared if you were to land on an island, where you are totally alone.

32. 12 Monkeys (1995) - Nobody can depict madness better than Terry Gilliam. How can one be impressed anymore by movies like Avatar or Inception after you see such a jewel? Fragile to the point of crashing inside itself, this masterpiece also gives you the best 15-20 minutes of Brad Pitt's career. Unforgettable.

33. Who's Afraid of Virgina Woolf (1966) - First time when I experienced emotional draining. It sucked me out, until I remained numb. One can write tomes about it. Beautiful and shaking whatever certitudes you might have regarding the relationship between a man and a woman.

34. Death in Venice (1971) - I didn't like the book, but I loved the movie. Haunting images in a cinematic roll that will leave you breathless. Add Mahler music and you will understand the painful sadness of one of its famous lines: "In all the world, there is no impurity so impure as old age."

35. Tootsie (1982) - Definitely the most awesome transvestite in the history of cinema. Every time I watch it, I laugh in tears. Every time. Dustin Hoffman is hysterically good. :)

36. Queen Margot (1994) - The movie that manages to actually push the mind accepting the incest as a reality. Incredibly intense, compelling, it slaughters all your senses.

37. Training Day (2001) - Denzel my man, you are one heck of a God in this one. Slap, punch, slap, punch... until you fall on the floor. Now stand up bitch and take it one more time. That's the feeling.

38. The Godfather (1972) - There are no words for this one. No other Mafia guy was so much loved and respected. Marlon Brando as Don Vito Corleone is a part of our heritage. It's in our blood. For good. Live with it.

39. Die Hard series - Heh... I mean really...how can you not adore Bruce Willis when hearing him say "C'mon baby, come ta' papa, I'll kiss ya' fuckin' dalmatian." or "Who's driving this car, Stevie Wonder?" Muahahahaha... I can watch him anytime saving whatever he saves. :D

40. Sense and Sensibility (1995) - I have a soft spot for this movie. Serene, delicate, funny and perfect played. Like a Monet painting that comes to life. I guess I need to see it again. :)

To be continued...

Movies that made me the way I am - part 2

2010-08-01T02:16:00.000-07:00

And let's continue with the long list of movies that influenced me in a way or another. For more information you can read if you like my previous post on this subject. :)

21. Con-Air (1997) - For the awesome John Malkovic who plays the unique Cyrus the Virus. The gripping action doubled by a brilliant chosen soundtrack will always freeze me on the couch, making me clap when the "bunny doesn't get it". :P Now singing... He's got the whole world...in His hand...:)

22. Leon or The Professional (1994) - a Luc Besson masterpiece in which I discovered a special kind of tenderness. Jean Reno, Natalie Portman and Gary Oldman form a golden trio very difficult to be ever equaled.

23. Heat (1995) - in other words: when 2 monsters meet history is made. Al Pacino and Robert de Niro in a breathtaking crime saga. There should have been invented an Oscar award just for the coffee shop scene.

24. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (1975) - when the special effects were the gestures and the eyes of the actors. When Milos Forman had the guts to dig deep in the fascinating world of the institutionalized crazy people. When Jack Nicholson was a God.

25. Annie Hall (1977) - One of the movies which forces me every time to thank God I have an awesome sense of humor. Otherwise I would have missed the perfect beauty of the wittiest movie that has ever been shot.

26. Rush Hour (1998) - The most comic on-screen duo cannot but win your heart. Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker together are the best anti-depressives.

27. L'avventura (1960) - Antonioni is not everybody's piece of cup. But once you get used to his style, a world of wonders unfolds. Alienation, shallowness and love blew my mind.

28. The Last Boy Scout (1991) - I fell in love with Bruce Willis after this line: "Nobody likes you. Everybody hates you. You're gonna lose. Smile, you fuck."

29. The Fisher King (1991) - Hope and misery in a mix that broke my heart. One of the most underrated movies of all times. My first encounter with the Holy Grail seen as unconditional love. An amazing Jeff Bridges and an astounding Robin Williams.

30. Moonstruck (1987) - This is how a romantic comedy should look like. Cher and Nicholas Cage? So unexpectedly good together. And yes "the moon brings the woman to the man..." :)

To be continued...

Movies that made me the way I am

2010-04-17T05:42:00.000-07:00

This is going to be a very long post...so beware. I will not make a top of my favorite movies and I will not review them either. I will simply write down the titles of flicks that meant something to me, that touched me, that changed me, that influenced me or simply movies that must be seen by anybody. There is no particular order and I will list them exactly the way they come into my mind. The post will be periodically updated so be free to come back and check the new jeweleries. :)

1. The Great Dictator (1940) - the ultimate masterpiece of all times. If there is one movie that should survive Earth destruction then this is the one. Chaplin remains even after so many years the number 1 genius of this art.
2. Amadeus (1984) - Forman's best movie unlocked mind-blowing depths in me. Mozart as never seen before. This is when I started to fear mediocrity. I was 16.
3. Jesus of Nazareth (1977) - The only religious movie that really managed to make me totally believe even if for a fraction of a second that God is somewhere watching over me. It was then that I experienced epiphany.
4. Gone with the wind (1939) - The charm of old times has never been better depicted. I loved and hated Scarlett. My first encounter with love at its best.
5. Stalker (1979) - Thanks to Tarkovsky, I knew there was nothing wrong with me. The abnormal and haunting images from my daily dreams found their sisters in the decayed buildings and the mysterious, weird waters.
6. 8½ (Otto e mezzo)(1963) - the real world and the inner world combine themselves to give birth to a movie dedicated to the painful confusion that torments any artist's life. Fellini touched the insane strings of creativity process.
7. Le Charme Discret de la Bourgeoisie (1972) - 100 minutes that will tower you with its absurd humor and ominous dream sequences. 100 minutes that will reveal the horrible hypocrite that exists in each of us.
8. A Clockwork Orange (1962) - the perfect match between a writer and a director (Burgess and Kubrick). The double quantity of madness smashes every piece of your body and soul. It squeezes the humanity in you, but it also purifies you.
9. A Streetcar Named Desire (1951) - It hits you with the power of a hammer. Fragility, pain and the mute wailing of "I've Always Depended On The Kindness Of Strangers."
10. The Matrix (1999) - "Unfortunately, no one can be told what the Matrix is. You have to see it for yourself." A new era started. An era where mind and spirit got an extra-dimension.
11. Star Wars (1977) - The beginning of an epic saga that mesmerizes the kid in us. The movie that showed the power of imagination.
12. Rain Man (1988) - It's ok to cry when watching it, even if you are a man. There is nothing wrong with this. Dustin Hoffman's performance (backed up by a surprisingly brilliant Tom Cruise) is the lesson we all must learn and remember forever.
13. The Hours (2002) - You thought you were depressed? You thought your life was small and pathetic? You thought you knew anguish? Well, take this and let's talk about it afterwards.
14. The Lord of the Rings trilogy (2001-2003) - When humanity embraces the magic, this is the outcome. And I don't know about you, but sweet dear God I wish I was an elf.
15. Some Like it Hot (1958) - The perfect comedy that stands the test of time. Sparkling, alluring, sexy, intelligent, fuzzy, hilarious, it is indeed perfect, in spite of its most famous end line: "Nobody is perfect."
16. E.T. (1982) - Spellbound, hypnotized, in love. An extra-terrestrial being whom I adored more than anything. If there was a religious parable behind the movie, only Spielberg can tell. All I know is that E.T wanna go home...
17. Scent of a woman (1992) - When the outstanding performance of a "monster" meets the flavor of tango and the slashing randomness of life. Breathtaking.
18. Fight Club (1999) - The first rule of Fight Club? "Never talk about Fight Club!" Initially, I was so shocked that I hated it. But then, the movie grew on me and grew...and grew...Suffocating, brilliant, insane, disturbing. Puts on the table with lucidity all my fears and all my doubts.
19. Meet Joe Black (1998) - Because even death itself needs love. "Love is passion, obsession, someone you can't live without. If you don't start with that, what are you going to end up with? Fall head over heels. I say find someone you can love like crazy and who'll love you the same way back. And how do you find him? Forget your head and listen to your heart. I'm not hearing any heart. Run the risk, if you get hurt, you'll come back. Because, the truth is there is no sense living your life without this. To make the journey and not fall deeply in love - well, you haven't lived a life at all. You have to try. Because if you haven't tried, you haven't lived."
20. Don Juan DeMarco (1994) - The last movie in which a male was plausible when making love declarations. Sad, but true.

To be continued...

Absurd story

2010-04-10T07:37:00.000-07:00

There are many houses in the world. And many tables. On one of these tables there is my Heart sitting. Nearby, on a chair, my Soul is crossing his legs. He is smirking, while my Heart is prudishly fluttering her eyelashes every other second. Red like a sugar beet, sweaty, she is telling a story... My Soul is listening to her in an absent-minded mood, battering a handkerchief. His thoughts are obviously elsewhere. His eyes are watching unknown depths.He startles when my Heart stops her clattering. He looks at her scornfully, but suddenly he feels pity for her. She is so small...so simple, so inferior, but so cute.
A familiar whistle comes from outside. A signal known only by them, by those who live in that infamous space. He is walking to the window and he sees Mr. Liver. Dressed up to the nines, with an emerald tie and pumps squeaking with every move.
"I respectfully salute you, Mr. Soul."
"Good afternoon."
"You know...I wish...if I could...oh, the hell with it...I wanna see your daughter, Miss Feeling. She has disappeared from the high society lately."
"She has been busy. She is writing."
"I'll be a monkey's uncle! If I had known, I wouldn't have worried so much. And...if you don't mind my asking, what is she actually writing?"
"Her memoirs."
My soul couldn't help but grin thinly.
"Well, that's super-duper. Tell her I miss her. I am out of here for now."
"I shall, I shall."
That moment, in the Vein Street, the long and elegant silhouette of Miss Illusion popped up from the mist. She was so beautiful with her green, blue, black eyes and her blond, dark, red hair, that you felt you should bow before her.
"Oh, divine greetings, Mr. Soul, I am so happy to see your face... God, I am floating now...Au revoir...
Out of the blue, it started to rain. Big drops of tears, blood and water, big drops of pray, dewdrops that were caressing the eaves of houses. It was so much racking sadness in that lurid sound...gurgling, spouting, sobbing, roaring and warbling. Every two other days this hellish rain is tormenting the poor heroes.
Meanwhile, my Heart, deeply hurt for being ignored had left without a word. Sighing, Mr. Soul opens his umbrella and goes for a walk. He felt an impossible urge to visit his old friend. After several miles, he enters a library. Here, engrossed in his thoughts, an old man with a wrinkled face, raises his eyes from the book he was reading.
"What's up, dude? Need again a dose of wisdom? Have a sit then, loser!"
Mr. Soul crashes defeated on a chair, thinking of the revenge day. He will slash Monsieur Brain to death and he will enjoy every mashed bloody cell.

LET US MOVE, FOLKS!

2010-03-28T07:01:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, we need life to push us back a little bit in order to move forward. Otherwise we find ourselves stuck, trapped, limited within our boundaries. And then we indulge ourselves in the warm daily routine: wake up, the morning coffee, the traffic to our job, then calling some friends, going home, taking care of kids, the pets, watching some TV, Facebooking, Twittering, Orkuting or whatever and then the sweet bed.
It is true, for many people in the world this picture sounds like a perfect thing, especially if you are homeless, jobless and all the other „less”. But this is not the point, as one day, „bang!”, it hits you: you lose your job, you lose your house, you do not have money for school, you get ill, you are stolen, your spouse betrays you, you fall, you cannot feel anything...
That moment you ask God or life or the world or your friend: „Why me?” „Was I so bad?” „Did I made anything wrong?” „Is it faith?” Unfortunately we will never find the answer. But the beautiful part is that we can do something, we gather our strengths to find a solution, we suddenly discover that we have a big power: to think and to do something about it. The result might not be the one we dream of, but we accomplish something more important: WE MOVE.
We free ourselves in the searching process and we learn new things. It’s up to us if we become better persons, but the chance has been given. So, folks, let’s move, let’s do something new, it doesn’t matter what. Either is helping a neighbour, or taking a new course, or talking more to the children, or reading an author we do not like, or joining a volunteer organization, or learning a foreign language, let’s do something new.
We have one life, as far as we know, and it would be such a pitty to waste it without trying all the things it has to offer. Life is smart; don’t get angry with it when it pushes us back in order to move forward.

Sick story

2010-03-21T09:06:00.000-07:00

One day, the All Mighty Power that, among other geeky things, plays with Earth, decided that humans needed a change. So IT scrolled through its universal device and started to giggle. Yeah, from now on, those little things will generate a cube of darkness around them, once someone else gets closer than 200 meters.
And on infamous day of Friday, the Earth became a place of hysteria and panic.The upheaval lasted for one year. Industries went down like sky rockets. Who needed cosmetics and beautiful clothes anymore? What was the purpose of a movie, if all you could see were buildings, landscapes and some black cubes? Visual beauty lost its meaning. The rate of suicidal acts registered unprecedented peaks.
A weird era began, where words became the most powerful currency. They set up new standards. The top models and the new icons to drool for were now the handlers of metaphors and poetry. To be a Master of Literature - this was the new mantra.
Music virtuosos kept their status. Depletion of image shook them for a while, but soon they realized if they had talent, they still could be the mediocre winners in everybody's life. The radio and the CDs business flourished.
In spite of IT's expectations the art of touching and smelling developed into an enhanced form of prostitution. Hence the factories producing moisturizing body lotions and perfumes turned to be the most efficient start-ups.
IT's experiment finished after 100 years. The world was too creepy and humanity was speaking about its existence too much. IT hated too intelligent people.

My Name is Khan – a journey

2010-02-14T06:10:00.000-08:00

I cannot speak about My Name is Khan without shortly mentioning Berlin experience. I can live very well without visiting the city anymore, but I appreciate it manages to attract thousands of cinema lovers during The Berlinale. Some of them are weird, some of them are adventurers, some of them are normal, but all of them are ready to queue for hours just to buy the golden tickets.
I had my MNIK ticket reserved for 13th. But I wanted to go on 12th, as the most beloved trio – Karan, Kajol and Shahrukh - was going to attend the premiere. It would have been a win-win situation anyway. If my haunt for tickets on ebay had failed, I would have got the Red Carpet chance to see them close, get an autograph or even hug Shahrukh. But what I wished more was to be in the same hall watching the movie together.
And I don’t regret this, as I felt like one of just a few real supporters in the middle of a crap audience – most of them people who entered via invitations and who had no idea what they were coming to see. Three guys, who stayed near me and had some VIP badges on the chest left after 20 minutes. I am very sorry I could not see their names. But if they ever read this, they will know I am talking about them – Shame on you, impotent bastards. Fans paid impossible to utter amount of money to be inside and you dare get out? And shame on you Berlinale organizers for letting in such persons, instead of giving this chance to someone who really loves and respects the work of movie-makers and deserves the special moment of a premiere.
Now that I expressed my rage against the atmosphere inside, which should have been really hot (proof? the second watch on 13th was really amazing – the love exuded in the cinema hall was almost material, like a thick silky veil), maybe time has come to focus on the movie in itself.
Karan had guts to do such a movie. First of all, non-believers, detractors, haters, would say: “Oh, no, did we need another Forrest Gump or another Rain Man”? Well, even so, what is wrong to see more stories about similarly challenged people? Let me tell you something, the trailers are misleading. I got in the same trap. I thought I knew what the story would be about and what was the message, blah, blah… He,he,he…Karan managed to surprise me, right from the very first seconds of the movie. The way camera moves, following Rizwan Khan, the music, which is absolutely brilliantly used, marks the beginning of a journey that will enchant you, will make you clap, tear, suffer, laugh and smile.
I will not detail the narrative thread, as this is not important now, but I will mention the very-well written script (puzzle-like sometimes), the incredible cinematography, a neat and very much westernized editing and decent Americans actors (for a change - this is an aspect I use to hate in Bolly movies).
There are two big moments in the movie, when time seems to stop and the world freezes. One belongs to Kajol, one to Shahrukh. Both of them are catharsis creators. Brace yourselves for a mother in pain and for the church speech. Those who saw/will see the movie and remain(ed) untouched by these 2 moments lost something precious in their lives – sensibility and love.
The movie has the quality of a bildungsroman and it can be interpreted and analyzed at many levels. I would recommend you to forget about analysis and simply enjoy the story, the rhythm, the fun, the jokes, the magic and charm of a special jodi, the kids acting in the movie (very good), the breathtaking images, the drama, the tears (yes let them flow – they will purify your soul), the Hollywood style ending, the humanitarian message, the incredible eyes of Shahrukh (dead, but expressing million things in the same time – I really cannot remember/imagine other actor of such a performance), the wide, beautiful smiles of Kajol, Zarina Wahab as Rizwan’s mom (adorable), the serene presence of Sonya Jehan, a delicious Vinay Pathak in a short role…and I can continue like this for pages and pages...
The movie can come over you like an avalanche. The desire to know how the story goes on and what happens next can make u impatient and hence, for some people, MNIK will be too long. That is why a second watch is a must. As then you can taste all those little details that first time seemed of no importance to you.
Trying to be objective as much as I can, I must say that My Name is Khan is one of the most powerful movies I have seen lately and appropriate both for Western and Asian audience. A Shahrukh-Kajol-Karan fan doesn’t need any reviews, any opinions or any ratings and the experience will be mind-blowing for him/her.
In the end, if you read these lines, please, go and see the movie. You will rediscover love. And love. And more love.

Demență

2010-01-23T02:56:00.000-08:00

Când începea să viseze, sunetele hipnotizante o făceau să deschidă prima ușă. Străbătea încăperile uriașe, sufocate de draperii sângerii din brocart greu, una după alta, într-o goană disperată. Același miros înțepător de mosc și tămâie. Într-un târziu, ajungea la destinație. Abia peste 20 de ani, bărbatul care cânta la pian își va întoarce fața și îi va spune să se arunce în abisul ce se căsca urât între ei. S-a supus fără crâcnire, însă viața trecuse deja pe lângă ea. N-a mai visat niciodată...

Particip la Concursul de Proza Arhiscurta organizat de Trilema.

India - karma or obsession

2009-12-13T09:46:00.000-08:00

This post is dedicated first of all to my friends from Twitter who stubbornly use to ask me what is my connection with their country. On the other hand I think time has come to actually answer myself if this is a karmic thing, or simply an obsession built up in time due to various elements.
Well, I guess everything started in childhood. I had the privilege to be literally brought up in the cinema hall, as my parents worked their entire life in a cinema. As I have confessed to many so far, my oldest memory is from a movie - a cut head rolling down a hill and the beheaded body covered by a purple cape. Well, in former Eastern European countries, movies coming from India represented a steady and most beloved presence (and who claims otherwise is a pathetic liar). So, my first contact with the Hindustani land occurred in the magic shelter of the cinema hall. Movies like Aradhana (Vandana in Romanian), Haathi mere Saathi (My friends, the Elephants), Awaara (The Vagabond), Shree 420 (Article 420), Ek Phool Do Mali (A flower and two gardeners), Yaadon Ki Baaraat (The chain of memories), Raj Kapoor, Mr. Amitabh, Kabir Bedi (in Sandokan Series) simply helped the Romanians to evade from their gloomy world and dream of a land that seemed to be like a fairy tale.
In time, when books became another source of getting knowledge for me, I discovered Eliade and his wonderful love story - Maitreyi or La Nuit Bengali.The book describes the relationship between the author and the young Indian Maitreyi Devi (a protegée of Tagore), who became a famous writer herself. For many years, Maitreyi Devi was not aware that the story had been published. After reading it, she wrote her own version of the relationship in 1974 - Na Hanyate (It Does Not Die - in English).In fulfillment of a promise Eliade made to Maitreyi that his novel would not be published in English during their lifetimes an English translation, of Mayitreyi, Bengal Nights did not appear until 1993.
Well these two books had a great impact on me on a superior level and made me discover more about India and in the process I went through all the already known clichéd stages (yoga, gurus, high spirituality, Mother Teresa, Gandhiji etc. - must admit crazy times were these and kind of weird). But my quest was not on the right track and for many years India simply lingered somewhere in a corner of my mind until some time around 2000, when all of a sudden India started to be in the news.
At that time my personal profile registered a huge change - from the book addicted philologist and an "elite intellectual" I had turned into a new to be economist and my mind had become more opened to the mechanisms that hide behind different societies. Little by little, my image about India absorbed different aspects, like history, social rules, governmental rules, development trends, you name it.
Caught in the hectic world of professional career, gasping desperately for time, once again I grabbed what was at hand to ease up my information hunger. Bollywood (oh, boy, and I have seen quite a huge number of glossy and unrealistic Bolly flicks) and Internet (youtube made history from this point of view). Year after year I watched in awe and with increased interest the changes India went through.
Well, last year something bizarre happened (unfortunately it cannot be shared) and all of a sudden things (big or small) related to India were coming my way on a regular basis (like receiving a sari from someone who most probably wanted to get rid of it and had no clue about my interest in India). Things that can be explained only if karmic or obsessive.
Once I wrote my first tweet the craziness exploded. The easiness I connect with people from India (though we come from complete different cultures, with complete different values) goes beyond the normal, kind social media rules. Twitter also had a great deal with my decision to relocate and leave my country, just because somehow I believe on a long shot my destiny and fulfillment is in India.
My closest friends from home are quite appalled by the idea and they hope it is just another whim of mine. I fear and hope it is not.

Locked in people’s hearts for good.

2009-11-01T08:37:00.000-08:00

You blew the world as Raja, telling your wife you would not touch her until she accepted you.
With Raju, you came to Mumbai and showed us that love was stronger than the glamorous lifestyle.
Then with Ajay/Vicky schizophrenic personality you managed to woo the audience. The dead look in your eyes in the last shot revealed a land of wonders.
As Rahul Mehra, people became aware of the tormented love and could not help, but share the pain of not being loved back.
You came along with sparkling Sunil whose defeated posture in the rain and teary eyes announced the soon to be the knight of hearts.
As Raj Malhotra you made history and the world has never been the same since that year. You became a brand and a solid as rock print in our souls.
Ram Jaane reminded us of an angel with dirty face and the craziness of sacrifice.
Arjun Saagar marked the point where your charisma and sadness merged for the first time into an expression difficult to watch at times.
Other 2 Rahuls were yet to come in 2 love stories which almost annoyed the viewers with their unbearable sweetness and sorrow. Each and every tear you shed was thousand times multiplied and formed an ocean of admiration all over the world.
Then Amarkant puzzled everybody. One of those strange roles that leave you wrapped up in anguish.
With Baadshah, Ajay and Max, entertainment got a new side, but fans breathed easily when Raj Aryan came back with his eternal love for a dead woman.
Asoka confirmed an underlying statement – I am here to stay. For good. And I do not care whether you like it or not.
Rahul Raichand appealed to Western audience more than ever. Period. The gesture of blessing your bride, while rain was desperately pouring, could freeze anyone’s heart in a never-ending beat.
Soon after that, Devdas popped up in our lives. The depths of his eyes mirroring the hell of our own mistakes and loneliness were hard to bare. Grieving got a new meaning.
Without any mercy, you gave us Aman Mathur so we can be hunted and distressed even more.
Major Ram Prasad Sharma helped us cool down a bit, so we could cope some time later with that first split second of terror and misery in Veer Pratap’s eyes.
And what a feast Mohan Bhargava offered us. Decency, calmness, honesty, genuine talent, but also a new ironic statement: „Hey guys, you thought I couldn’t do it? Well, check that!”
Between Kishenlal, the boring „accountant” and the selfish Ghost, one cannot choose easily. So we were satisfied with the famous line: "I am the yearning that resides in a woman´s heart... that´s who I am."
Dev Saran shook again the Western hearts and troubled the Indian ones. Dev disturbed many people. Dev annoyed many people. Dev was hated by many people. Because Dev had the courage to show the truth. Dev had the courage to destroy so he could live. Dev had the guts to open up widely the „dark” side of our souls and desires. And Dev proved us how pathetic and coward we are and this was why I loved Dev so much. Unfortunately, Dev does not exist in the real world.
In a twist of fate, Vijay/Don „cleaned-up” the mess made by Dev and we watched in awe the wonderful new played double role. The mean, sarcastic, sharp, cunning and charming Don simply brought smiles on our face. Once again the audience was ready to understand and forgive the villain even if there was absolutely no reason for that.
2007 was a weird year. Kabir Khan and Om Prakash/Kapoor played with our feelings. On one hand here it is the astonishing coach - severe, correct, wounded, sad and tough – who stands uncorrupted in his heartbreaking solitude; while on the other hand, we have Om – the childish, gully, puerile, sissy, but so sexy hero. Split personality? Freaking talent? Blessed by Gods? I can only assume or guess and cannot give an answer.
Surinder Sahni/Raj does not any more introductions. The man has a heavenly gift and made justice for himself and for a feeling so much disregarded, but so much secretly desired by everyone: Love.
Sahir Khan let us catch glimpses of the real thing. He tries to tell us leave him alone. I am sorry but we are not able to do that. When your name is Khan, you are doomed to be forever locked in people’s hearts. It is a heavy burden, I know, but instead of swimming in rivers of tears, it is better to float on oceans of love.
Happy Birthday Shahrukh.

A Match Made in Heaven

2009-09-06T13:16:00.000-07:00

Time has come to talk about a film which turned into an addiction for me. Its not my intention to make a proper review as I cannot be objective when heart is completely involved. Rabne Bana De Jodi gave me many headaches and I would not give details for safety reasons, but the fact that such a film cannot be found here says a lot about this. All in all, it was only the 4th view that included everything (quality, soundtrack - yes you read well, soundtrack! -, subtitles, etc.)

The movie, starring Shahrukh Khan as Surinder 'Suri' Sahni and Raj (Kapoor!), Anushka Sharma as Taaniji and Vinhay Pathak as Bobby Khosla and directed by Aditya Chopra, receieved bad critics, but also very warm ones. I guess the bad ones came from people who could not accept the fact that the heroine cannot literally recognize her husband after he suffers a complete change of style - from a normal, shy, clumsy, boring man to an over the top, joyful, lighthearted, flirty, crazy guy. Maybe this was not the most brilliant convention chosen so that the plot could elaborate from, but it is still a convention. Once you admit this, the beauty of the movie can really make an impact on your soul.

I will not talk in detail about the story, the characters, the cinematography, the soundtrack or the fact that the flick is a cornucopia of Hindi movies references but I will highlight some scenes and moments in the bullets style:

-the ordinary sneakers image when SRK gets down from the train followed immediately by the brilliant red of his wife's wedding sari is the moment when we realize tough times are coming for our hero.
-the big kitchen hosts one of the most delicate and humorous shots in the movie - the red rose placed back again in the vase.
-Punjab Power lighting up your life ji. Extrapolating a bit the Punjab Power is in fact the love energy that lightens Suri's otherwise grayish and ordinary life.
-Suri's first victory - the yellow food box and the amazing song of Haule-Haule (incredible lyrics).
-Accha, accha short jingle marking intelligently certain moments/intros.
-Meri love story bana de yaara scene where the entire craziness starts and where Shahrukh shows for the first time in the movie how many things he can express only with his eyes and thin smiles.
-Raj's flamboyant and hilarious motto invented on the spot (and of course in "full version"): Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna, Hum hai rahi pyaar ke, Phir milenge, Chalte Chalte (Never Say Good-bye, We are travelers on the Path of love, We'll probably meet again soon - these are approximate translations and mainly based on the official sources like Wikipedia and imdb) mixing shamelessly the titles of more or less iconic movies very well known to Hindi movie watchers.
-Raj's cool and "too silky smooth" T-shirts and goggles. :)
-Raj's idiotic but heart melting obsessive expressions - mafiji, sorryji, never again or Taani partner Hello dear Never fear Raj is here.
-"Romance to dance Hindi Film style" song item - one of the most entertaining and colorful tribute to the history of Hindi movies I have ever seen.
-Shahruk's schizoid monologue just before Intermission and the beautifully shot fall of a single teardrop.
-Dance pe chance item song - addicting and smiles inducing moments. Always remember me of teenage hood crazy times.
-Gol-gappas eating contest between Raj and Taani where I also found the cutest flaw of the movie. Shahrukh with wedding ring and without it within the same scene.
-The Dhoom style bikes confrontation immediately followed by Bobby's explanations regarding the macho attitude.
-Raj's confusion related to Rakhi bandra and no macho issue.
-Tujh Mein Rab Dikhta Hai item song. What more beautiful love declaration than tell someone "I see God in you"? It’s so impressive, as such love cannot be found in real life.
-Suri's ridiculous fight with the Sumo guy. Critics dismissed the scene as it lacked humor. Well the thing is it was not intended to be funny, on the contrary. Maybe its the most realistic scene from the entire movie. Many times we find ourselves doing stupid gestures so we could impress the one we love. The way Suri makes a fool of himself almost hurts you like a knife cut. Those who loved and were not loved back can better understand and relate to this otherwise useless scene.
-Suri and Taani dancing in the competition. The robotic moves as well as the expressionless faces unfolding one more time the story and the basic misunderstanding.

Thank you Suriji for letting us with the hope that someone might love us more than God. And I am sure if this thing ever happens, God won’t get upset.

The 3 Magi from East reloaded

2009-08-08T01:29:00.000-07:00

In the Christian tradition it is said that baby Jesus was visited after his birth by 3 Magi (or 3 Kings from the East) to give him some special gifts. Gaspar - gold, Melchior - frankincense and Balthasar - myrrh. They often are overlooked (though much respected in the popular belief) and none of the Gospels or other writings left us more information about their roundabouts and who they really were.
Fascinated by them and having no intention of making a preposterous blasphemy I gave them personalities and to be on the safe side different names, too.
I shall start with the myrrh bringer (symbolizing the suffering, among other things) - Varkansi. He is the wisest of all, with a mind like a rare diamond, tough, as he hates being vulnerable, strong, untouchable, though generous to a certain point, always in search for perfection, never happy, with mind-blowing depths. He stabs you without any mercy, but you hear his heart crying. Varkansi - the bearer of pain and sorrow. He carries his heavy burden with indifference and he is doomed to be madly loved and hated in the same time.
The frankincense bringer on the other hand, Salopil, comes with the shinny power of prayer. He spreads love, light and flowers. He is pure, shy, and clumsy, with beautiful, honest eyes and he would not hurt anybody. He trembles for any human being grief. He offers himself without second thoughts, but he always remains lonely. When his soul crushes, he does not despair, as he always finds the will to go on, by asking God's help. The magic of his prayers makes people smile and this is how he makes the next step. He is doomed to move on until he meets his God.
Well, the last, but not the least, Setimakan, runs all over the place with his golden gift of virtue, kingship and certitude. He is warm, kind, balanced, laughs a lot at everything, he pokes on Varkansi's seriousness and Salopil's genuineness, but always with a tear in the corner of the eye. He is the rock on which everybody holds with gratitude. He does not mind at all, as he realizes this is the reason he lives for. His helping hand is always there and he just needs a sign to bring you down to Earth. He is doomed to be never forgotten.

Having said that I hope for each and one of you to meet the 3 Magi from East (in dreams if not otherwise), as we all need them, even if we do not know that.

"Happies endings"

2009-07-26T07:41:00.000-07:00

All's well that ends well. Though Shakespeare's play title seems to be more appropriate for movies, sometimes life reminds us to stay tight and wait for the best to happen. Because "the happies endings" can take you by surprise and let you as exhausted and perplexed as in a bad outcome situation.
Instead of jumping around with exhilaration, you just watch in dumb awe. And the moment perishes and you cannot live it again, at least not with the same intensity. And then you wonder why the hell you lost hope and why you did not let Universe do its job at its own pace.
Lets receive things as they come, handle them with care and calm, accept the inevitable, pray to find strength and even in the worst case scenario, be also prepared for the positive results, as they can, too, blow your mind if unexpectedly hit you.
Don't miss the chance to taste the sweetness and the blessings of "happies endings".
PS. "Happies endings" also announce my next post which was so much time delayed. :)

Assumption is the mother of all fuck-ups

2009-07-18T03:17:00.000-07:00

First let me give credit to my Twitter friend @farhanmasood for the title of this blog post. Your tweet came to the precise moment. :)
We always make assumptions.
Jews - they run the world from backstage because they have loads of golden coins. Muslims - they are the leading terrorists because they are cruel and fanatic. Christians - they are bigots, because they go to church, but stab you behind your back. Hindus - they are weird, poor and they live among mice, because this is what we saw on a damn youtube vid.
Lawyers - they are sharks, because they dare put you in jail, after charging you big time. Politicians - they are corrupted because they build palaces with the money from the taxes you pay. Rockers and bikers - they are to be banned, because they worship Devil. Advertisers - they suck because they play with your mind. Homosexuals - they have to be punished because they are against the nature.
Says who? (sic!)
All of the above are pure assumptions built up in time due to unfortunate occurrences, prejudices and lack of knowledge and information.
On a smaller personal level we proceed in the same way. This colleague is stupid, because she/he cannot send a fax. She is a whore because she slept with several guys. He is an opportunist, because he offered himself to work more. She is a bitch, because she did not admire my new dress. He is a goof, because he married with the bitch in the previous sentence. He is a part of a conspiracy because he does not give you the same amount of attention.
Stop judging. Gather information. Know all the details. Check different sources. Wait and have patience. Do not make assumptions as you can get yourself in the most fucked-up situation.
Repairing the consequences and healing the wounds might cost you more than you have imagined.

One of those days...

2009-07-10T10:45:00.000-07:00

This has been one of those days when everything announced a normal Friday...catching up with friends, watching movies, reading, enjoying the simple browsing over the Internet, laughing at stupid things...
And then...it hits you...a short conversation on messenger with someone you dearly care about goes completely wrong, while you are totally unprepared. Out of the blue the misery is all over you. You feel helpless, as you are not given the chance to find out what your mistake was.
And you start imagining things that might not be true at all. You start blaming yourself for something you do not clearly understand. You let yourself overwhelmed by an artificial guilt which can turn you upside-down and which begins eating you inside like a hungry rodent.
All of a sudden your self-esteem is down and the world has nothing to offer you anymore. You simply wish to vanish. Then the worst thing happens: self-pity. The ugliest soul torture. Worthy of despise feeling.
Human beings are that fragile. Words are fearful weapons. Beware.

Lord Ganesh in a Chinese potato

2009-07-04T02:00:00.000-07:00

I have always had a thing for movies that receive bad feedback both from critics and audience. That was the case with "Chandni Chowk to China", a Nikhil Advani movie, featuring Akshay Kumar, Deepika Padukone, Chia Hui Lui and Roger Yuan. I postponed watching it until last night, when I was in enough good mood to swallow any aberration.

Believe it or not, the flick managed to make me smile several times though it is a failure indeed. And I still wonder why, as it could have been a good commercial movie. The plot is clicheic, but afterall we all engage in the stories where the goofy, pathetic hero goes through an initiation process in order to get his revenge or to become the savior of the world. The fighting scenes are well done, even if exaggerated, but let’s not forget that for more rocambolesque jumps through the trees, "Crouching tiger hidden dragon" took an Oscar. Akshay is doing his best not to cross the line into the ridicule acting, Deepika, as the evil twin, is a pleasure for the eye with her almost manga look, Roger Yuan is so cute speaking Hindi... The cinematography, the editing, the soundtrack are all decent...so why all the money spent in such a super-production did not prove worthy? Why the two different nations combination did not work as it should?

The potential for a truly good comedy was huge. Remember Rush Hour? Chris Tucker and Jackie Chan's charismas were mind-blowing and highly entertaining. This is what "Made in China" (informal alternative title) lacks: the chemistry between the Hindi and Chinese actors. It was too soon to mix things at such huge level. Maybe with a smaller production in first place would have prepared better the audiences.

Lord Ganesh could not find the magic way to reveal himself through a Chinese potato. Yet.

Movies on fast forward

2009-06-28T02:26:00.000-07:00

If someone had told me 10 years ago that one day I would do such a sacrilege to watch movies on fast forward,I would have probably been outraged. Who, me? People, I practically grew up in the cinema hall, as my parents worked their entire life in a cinema. My oldest memory IS from a movie: a cut head rolling down a hill. I guess it was Richard III with Lawrence Olivier. Every important moment of my development is tagged with a movie. I am a flick marathonist. I cherish and breath films and I have a great respect for everybody in this industry, from the extras, cameramen, props, to the directors, producers and actors.
And here I am in 2009, watching movies for maximum 1 hour and if they do not grasp my attention, I use the FF option on the player. Is it because I do not have patience anymore? Is it because the number of released movies is too big? Is it because of their quality? Is it because there are no new stories to be told? Or is it because time is too tight?
Sometimes I feel ashamed, sometimes not.

A tribute to Michael

2009-06-26T06:05:00.000-07:00

I remember the times, when listening to Western music was a crime in our country. When communism used to block everything that came from outside. When the tapes and cassettes represented hard currencies. Michael Jackson managed to push away all these barriers and charmed our lives for good.

I was in love with him... His music and his performances helped me a lot during the teenage hood hardships. I grew up sane and responsible due to his values, kind soul and professionalism - though at that time I did not know this word, I understood the seriousness of each and every effort he made to meet his fans’ aspirations and expectations. He did not spare any tear, any sweat drop to reach perfection.

Like many others I thought I had a special connection with him and that is why, in spite of my friends' mockery, I always used to tell them: "Just wait and see, one day he will come to Romania". Of course the idea was utterly absurd, given the communist circumstances. But my dream and my conviction proved stronger than anything. December 1989 Revolution took place and we became free. In the beginning of 1992, first rumors appeared about his presence in Romania.

The miracle happened and I smiled. The feelings and emotions in the concert Michael put up for us cannot be described as words are too weak. Jacko had this incredible gift to split himself in thousands of pieces and giving himself to every person cheering for him. You could feel him hugging you and sharing his being with you. It was an incredible experience that marked my entire life. I saw then children, young people, old women, old men, from all walks of life, crying like babies.
I am so sorry for those who could not see him in flesh and blood, as the blessings of such magic moments cannot be bought.

Shortly before his death, Fred Astaire said: “I didn’t want to leave this world without knowing who my descendant was. Thank you Michael!” In a black June day, The King of Pop said good bye to Earth and joined Fred in the unknown. Let us imagine them both doing a tap dance for angels...as show must go on, even in Heaven.

Iran and the right to a better life

2009-06-16T09:34:00.000-07:00

In the beginning I watched the Iran elections just as another happening. It was not like people were waiting for a huge surprise. The change was in the air and Moussavi seemed to be the natural choice of Iranians.
But no way. We have been reminded that human race is still a wild beast. When things were getting worse and first news of protesters in the streets hit the Internet I turned to CNN. Bang! CNN was quiet. Just cold and neutral articles, no passion involved. At that moment Twitter went on fire and it still is on fire. The entire twitterverse became green.

There are several tweeple from Iran who keep us updated as journalists and TV channels cannot keep up the pace with the events. UN and the other big international organizations are almost driving people crazy with their silence and lack of action. The governments adopted the policy "If I ignore the problem it does not exist". Waiting probably for Obama to be more than "deeply troubled"?
Lives were taken, but Iranians chose the right to a better life so now they are simply joining their hands in the street, without shouting, without violence.

Fear and hope are the only things left for them at present. Let's not close eyes and be by their side at least with our good thoughts and prayers. Let's keep #iranelection a trending topic until the sun will shine again.

An Ode to Mumbai

2009-06-12T09:21:00.000-07:00

Why the hell anyone from Eastern Europe will dream of a city in India? Usually everybody here speaks about US, France, Germany, Spain (and I must admit Barcelona is my second runner-up), Italy, Canada, but never about the Asian part of the world (maybe as an odd curiosity, they would give a try to Japan, Singapore or Hong-Kong).
But for God's sake…India? And Mumbai? Where all the slums are? With dogs or without them... Where people wear all those funny clothes and do nothing else but watch TV in the streets, sing, eat spicy food, dance (via the Bollywood movies we used to watch as greatest hits in childhood, but now disregard them as being silly)? Brrr...

Come on, admit that these are the first images which come to your mind. But how many of us really try to understand or read more about a city that hosts approximately 19 million inhabitants (including the suburbs)? How many of us had a look at one of the most beautiful mosques in the world, Haji Ali? Oh, yeahh, now we probably know about the splendid Taj Mahal Palace or Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus, the incredible railway station, cause they had to be attacked by terrorists so that we could acknowledge their existence.
And of course we had to wait for Slumdog to get all the Oscars to turn our heads to the East and remember that Mumbai is the capital of Maharashtra state and the financial core of India. And those more economy oriented maybe managed to have a glimpse of the oldest Stock Exchange in Asia when couple of weeks ago, right after elections, the Mumbai market sky-rocketed and made brokers all over the world turn yellow with envy.

I have never been there, but yes, I dream of Mumbai with all its ups and downs. I dream of the busy streets, the traffic, the old and new restaurants, the markets, the Chowpatty beach, and the noise, the mix of people buzzing and walking anonymously and maybe dreaming in their turn to live somewhere else. Why? Because it feels like home. And as I told someone few days ago, for Mumbai I would fight even with the dragons.

Tweetship - a new kind of friendship?

2009-06-09T08:40:00.000-07:00

Before phone, trains, cars, telegraph and photos changed the world completely, people from all corners of the world used to stay in touch through letters and little painted portraits. Most of them never got the chance to meet face to face.
Unbelievable as it may sounds today things are not so much different. Yes, we do have some pretty fancy tools to cut distances, but how many of us manage to see in flesh and blood the ones with whom they exchange ideas, projects, thoughts or feelings, especially now when social networking sites are flourishing?
Out of them, Twitter is the latest hype in town and not in vain. Twitter reminds me of Matrix, but in the good sense. The permanent buzz, the vibes,the laughs, the egos, the links, the connections, the virtual bridges on which you can walk and have a glimpse of what a New Yorker or a Mumbaikar is doing in that very moment you keep your eyes on the screen...
In time, reading practically haiku-like live journals, you cannot but get closer to completely strange people. As I said today to one of my twitter friends I love the mundane part of Twitter. Besides the information purpose, it is the human side that makes me come back every day in twitterverse. Yes, I like to read when someone has no parking place, or lost his byke keys, or is going to the dentist, or has a bad day in the office as much as I like to listen to their opinions on elections, movies, books, iPhone or the movements of Stock Exchange. This is what we do on a daily basis with our real friends. Sharing everything that surrounds us.
As in real life, you come to have close friends, friends, pals, acquaintances and for one and each of them you start to develop feelings: acknowledgement, respect, care, admiration, warmth, concern, tenderness...depending on the depth of relationship.
Tweetship is still the old kind of friendship but dressed up in 140 characters.

Epiphany in Munich

2009-06-07T08:47:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I went for a second day "tourist" in Munich. The weather forecast was bad - heavy rain. But I was lucky and the sun was shining for couple of hours while I was wandering around. Heading to Asam Church (which is quite impressive, if you like late baroque or rococo architecture), my colleague wanted to share with me a view of a great garden (Hofgarten if I remember correctly, if not spare my mistake).
Approaching one arch side-entrance, the perfect quietness was broken by the notes of a violin. In the beginning, I thought there were some hidden loudspeakers, but I was so wrong.
Somewhere under the columns a man was playing Paganini. I went closer to him and I listened. The beauty of his interpretation made me cry. I experienced a rare state of grace. Time stopped and the world seemed to have become a concentration of sounds.
My tears were genuine and I did not wipe them away. They were a gift for a man who managed to touch my heart with such a force.

My world of small big things

2009-05-26T04:08:00.000-07:00

Why Thais? I have been trying for more than 20 years to find an explanation. No clue yet.
Why blogging? Well, as "microblogging" via Twitter has proved an amazing experience in such a short time, why not upgrade a little bit?
Why small big things? Because life is as such. A micro-macro combo. Things that buzz us in a constant flow. With ups and downs.
Why now? Because I have zillions of tasks to accomplish and, as apparently I cannot prioritize, I reversed my plans and the bottom became the header.
I have the same feeling as when I wrote my first tweet. Shouting in a crowdy room without being heard by anybody. Until some time later when people turned to me and made eye-contact. And smiled. And shared. And nodded. Or simply noticed.
I am and will be grateful for any of the above.