Cornel

Hei, Cornel este nepotul meu din New Jersey! A urmat cursuri de jurnalism şi creative writing şi acum scrie la mai multe publicaţii. Mai jos este o schiţă din studenţie. Ce surpriză plăcută...

THE SPIRAL INTO MADNESS by Cornelius Bărbulescu

Something wakes me but I don’t want to leave my warm, stiff bed. A fist pounds the room’s door. “Wake up, medication,” shouts a woman. I wish that I could fall back asleep, that my mind could escape this excruciating reality.

“Wakey, wakey,” says my roommate. His dirty hands pull away my cover, letting the cool air sting my body. “Chris, wake up or I’ll tell on you.”

“Get your hands off me,” I say. He giggles, twitching his face like a rat nibbling cheese.

“Ah, Chris, you been mean to me.” His laughter transforms into slow, deep sobs. He runs out of the room, wailing like a child. I hate him so much. I shouldn’t be here.

“Mr. Gonzaga,” says a nurse, appearing at my door. “Davey told me that you called him inappropriate names. This isn’t the first time, and I’m going to tell Dr. Johansson.” She looks at me, waiting for my response. I turn my back to make my bed. “Mr. Gonzaga.” One last corner and the white sheets will be tight enough for military standards. I’m in the army now, private first-class lunatic. “Mr. Gonzaga.” All done.

“Yes?” I say.

“It’s time for medication,” she says, staring at me with her chubby face.

“I know,” I say, making sure to leave the room first.

The hallway floor wasn’t cold as it should be, it was warm and sweaty. “Single file, please,” says a nurse. An inflated stomach bumps me in the back. Before I turn around, a putrid smell forces my body to cringe. You fat bastard. I lift my shirt over my nose and breathe through my mouth.

“Next,” says a nurse. My body can’t handle anymore drugs. I grab the Dixie cup with the name, “Chris G,” sloppily marked on it. “Dr. Johansson put you on some new medication, Chris,” she says, “it will help you focus and relax, so you can get better.” Another sedative. I squeeze it between my fingers, holding it like a tick.

“I don’t think the medicine is helping,” I say, “it’s making things worse. I always feel numb.”

“Chris,” she says, “you have to give it a little time, honey. Once we find the exact balance of medication for you-”

I ignore her brainwashing as I chase down the first pill; I’m too tired to fight. She smiles and nods as the other two slither down my throat. My stomach churns, angry that they weren’t food. I don’t exercise anymore. I mope around, watch the news, and smoke two provided cigarettes a day. I feel like a zombie, mindless and hungry.

All four showers in the bathroom are in use. As the steam sticks to my skin, I feel the drugs enter my blood. My thoughts go foggy as my muscles relax. I stand, shoulders drooped, and I loose all of my anxiety. I stand. The rim of my shirt feels wet. I look down to see spit trickle from my mouth. My arms feel too heavy to wipe away the drool, and I stand. “Hey cutie,” pierces a voice through the fog. Ronny. His black, curly hair finds its way into my sight. “I’ll give you a blowjob for a pack of your smokes,” he says. “Come on, how “˜bout I touch your dick for free?”

One surge, one surge of energy is all I need. With it I free my body and raise my hands. The tip of my elbow sinks into his face, sending his head into the mirror. The fog returns as I stare into the cracked, blood spattered mirror. I’ve gained so much weight here. I shouldn’t be in this place. I’m not crazy, they are. Heavy hands lock my head still as a male nurse injects me with a sedative.

The cushioned pink walls seem welcoming, I’m no stranger. Shackled, like a lunatic. Maybe their mission is to turn me into one.

Persepolis în română!

Cum am putut trece cu vederea o apariţie atât de importantă
- cel puţin până acum?
Persepolis este acum tradus în română. Prima oară am
făcut cunoştinţă cu Marjane Satrapi văzând minunatul film de animaţie. Apoi la Cafeneaua Lente
am văzut benzile desenate, din păcate varianta anglo-saxonă.

Acum Persepolis este tradus în română , o carte care trebuie musai "citită" (musai fiind echivalentul autohton al lui must).

Mi-am reamintit de Persepolis zilele trecute văzând Pisicile persane la MŢR.

P.S.
Marjane la 12 ani si-a cumparat o caseta cu Camel!! ...si una cu Kim Wilde, e adevarat. Oricum, gusturi comune cam prin aceleasi vremuri.

UPDATE

Persepolis s-a lansat pe DVD la Animest!

Program Uranus 144

Ultima gradină de vară veritabila

Sambata, 24 iulie:

Duminica, 25 iulie:

Luni, 26 iulie:

Marti, 27 iulie:

Miercuri, 28 iulie:

Joi, 29 iulie:




Vineri, 30 iulie


















Sambata, 31 iulie:

Pisicile persane

"Vreau doar filme de acţiune, fără dragoste!"

" E mai frumos şi acţiune şi dragoste!"

"Cum poţi să omori 1000 de oameni şi apoi să te îndrăgosteşti?" întreabă falsificatorul de paşapoarte din "Pisicile persane", un film despre muzica underground iraniană. Este un film cu muzică foarte frumoasă, în primul rând, în care restricţiile, cenzura şi opresiunea sunt subtil şi cu umor schiţate. Pentru ca să apară scena confiscării căţelului de către poliţişti, pentru că este "impur", scenă care vine ca un pumn în plex.

"Iranienii nu pot să facă filme proaste" îţi vine să parafrazezi, mai ales că pentru a o convinge pe Cristina să-l vedem i-am spus "ştii, înainte de moda filmului românesc au fost pe val iranienii".

Finalul este un pic melo pentru gustul meu dar filmul îmi aduce aminte de anii 80 din România şi de concertele de la Tănase, înfrăţirea şi de aiurea.

De momentele când Stelian Tănase, care caştiga o pâine organizând concerte, trebuia să-i scoată pe cei de la Timpuri Noi de pe scenă pentru a nu se anula concertul din cauza unor versuri ca "Becule stai aprins, becule, noi te iubim!". Şi noi care îl luam de ţap ispăşitor şi strigam "Tănase patru clase!". Şi apoi momentul revoluţiei când Bulgaru, prietenul meu îmi spune "Băi, ai văzut cine este Tănase patru clase?".

Un film de văzut (ascultat).