Old animation

I once had enough time to pursue many hobbies. For a brief time before university started, I animated this short and mildly disturbing piece frame by frame.

http://www.newgrounds.com/portal/view/544082

Nyctophilia

nyctophilia- (noun) A love or preference of night or darkness; finding relaxation or comfort in the darkness.

2:27 AM. Nu cauta vreo semnificatie, e doar o ora pe care lumea in mod obisnuit ar considera-o tarzie. In mod obisnuit, as fi de acord, dar in unele zile (nopti?) te pierzi intr-o lectura, un album, poze sau mai stiu eu ce alte dracii care te aduc intr-o stare in care te pierzi. O lumina slaba iti intarzie ceasul biologic, oboseala pluteste deasupra ta ca o ceata, o simti in fiecare plaman de aer, dar cumva stii ca va fi procesata in ceva util de catre organism. Un torent de idei neramificate iti aluneca prin fjordurile creierului, dar nu se cristalizeaza. Esti la un pas de o epifanie. Ultimul pas e intotdeauna cel mai greu; e un pas in bezna, e un pas in noapte, un pas in neant, un picior in mormant. De aceea, este un pas pe care majoritatea il fac inconstienti, manati de ceasul biologic, sedativul natural. Noapte de noapte, omenirea marsaluieste catre mormant, fara frica, fara prezenta de sine. Viseaza...
Eu in schimb am lasat noaptea sa vina la mine. Am vazut mlastinile si neantul. Vice versa, si ele m-au vazut pe mine. Acum ramane doar sa astept.

Titles

I am the purveyor of pornography.
I am the oogler of obscenities.
I am the gazer of gauntiness.
I am the sightseer of  the squandered subtle sex.
I am the dream of depravity.
I am the holy in heresy.
I am the sin hidden in stainless sheets.

The Tulip and the Butterfly

A fost odata un Fluture care a iesit din cocon cu aripi in carouri subtiri de albastru cu alb. S-a trezit intr-un maldar de frunze ruginite, departe de locul unde se culcase. Si-a uscat aripile de roua in Soarele tomnatic de mare. Vezi tu, toamna este un sezon foarte prost ca sa te trezesti ca fluture, caci asta inseamna ca toata generatia ta deja si-a indeplinit ciclul vietii pe parcursul verii, pana tarziu in august. In esenta, s-a trezit in ceea ce ai putea numi o apocalipsa a fluturilor. Din perspectiva lui, era ultimul fluture de pe lume. S-a intins pe-o Lalea dintr-o gradina pustie, asteptandu-si sfarsitul. Era o lalea nemaivazuta, care oglindea soarele in petale. La miazazi orbeai daca o priveai direct, dar la apus aproape ca sangera . 

Dar, vezi tu, chiar daca Laleaua nu e fluture, ea i-a inteles necazul. In fond, cu o luna in urma cu doar o luna valuri de fluturi au mangaiat acea gradina parasita, o atingere trecatoare, care in final a polenizat toate florile. Acum toate randurile de lalele s-au ofilit, lasand in urma doar o mare de seminte ca sa fie inghitita de pamant. 

Laleaua intelegea prea bine ce inseamna sa ramai singur in ultimele zile din viata, asa ca nu a alungat fluturele. Si-a inrosit mai tare petalele, si a imbratisat Fluturele usor. In aceeasi noapte, l-a hranit cu niste polen ca o licoare de alcool ametitor. Apoi, cand Luna se oglindea in Mare, Laleaua si-a strans petalele puternic, pregatita pentru o ultima noapte, petrecuta in companie placuta.

On the Road

Strange, I've been "home" for more than a month now. I can't say that I've spent too much time in my real home though. As I'm writing this I think it's been about 5 days overall. It hardly seems like home anymore. Of course it still feels comfy, but something's definitely missing. I just can't put my finger on it right now.
Coming home today I've found the strangest appliance sitting right in the hallway. There was this rope suspended from the ceiling which seems to be my brother's new plaything.  I just couldn't help not seeing it as a noose, even (jokingly?) toying with it to make an improvised noose.
Life's good on the road.

Meet me in Montauk, Clementine

The Forgotten Town

Just stumbled on this thing I forgot about: http://www.facebook.com/pages/CONSTANTAde-altadata/112468065442496 . It's my hometown, at least what it used to be before being sent into the eastern post-communist "revival". The city looked better after being bombed than what it looks like today. It's mostly a twisted heap of kitsch combined with old, decrepit buildings forgotten by city planners. If you've got an artist's eye you can still see what they used to look like in their good days, but their state is really deplorable. Somewhere there's a nice analogy, the old deserve a minimum of dignity.