De ce m-am apucat tocmai azi sa scriu? Si de ce tocmai despre politica pe care n-o pot suferi?

Pentru ca politica e o curva. Si sexul e cea mai cautata forma de entertainment. Iar in cazul romanilor, celalalt sport national cu f este fotbalul (nu ridica din sprancene, e pe drum o analogie).

O infruntare ca orice meci: s-a lasat cu blocaje de circulatie prin oras, batai cu politia, oameni carora li s-a facut rau, galagie mare in general; interventii nesportive pe teren si discursuri suparate din partea antrenorilor echipei care a pierdut…

Pe firul celeilalte analogii, am vazut un nou exemplu de ce e bine sa si ai un numar mai mare la chiloti daca tot te dai cocos… si cum daca nu, ajungi tot tu capra. Poti sa-i zici tradare daca vrei, da’ tot acolo te doare, si chiar daca te cam asteptai la asta tot tare te doare.

Ca sa lamuresc metaforele, vorbesc aici despre respingerea celei de-a cincea (a V-a, 5-a) motiuni de cenzura impotriva guvernului Boc, spre rusinica echipei de soc Crin-Ponta (a.k.a. Chucky si Che Gargara), si in ciuda protestelor de strada “din cauza saraciei” care s-au oprit misterios de brusc de cum a inceput votul in parlament.

Dupa meci…

Chucky a fulgerat impotriva “taratoarelor” care nu au sustinut motiunea si a precizat ca nu el a pierdut, ci tot poporul. (Cum zicea Caragiale? “Ori toti sa muriti, ori toti sa traim!”)

Victoras a dovedit ca desi a studiat demagogia de la Bunicuta, procedura de manipulare a porumbeilor a invatat-o de la Prostanac… i-a scapat unul mic si alb precum ca cei care promisesera sa il sprijine “si-au luat aseara ce li s-a promis si azi au tradat”.

Reprezentantii sindicatelor au gasit un mare vinovat, primaria capitalei care nu le-a asigurat eco-toileturi. Well shit…

Sindicalistii ajunsi in strada s-au udat si au inghetat (si, se pare, au strans din musculatura sudica toata ziua), au marsaluit, au fluierat, au scandat, si-au luat pelerinele inscriptionate si jucarelele si au plecat. Parca mi-e mila de cei pacaliti sa vina cine stie de pe unde sa-si scuipe plamanii prin Capitala. Dar parca nu.

Udrea a zambit frumos la camera si i-a invitat pe cei doi tineri antrenori sa-si consume energia si cu scheme de joc alaturi de guvern, nu doar impotriva. Deh, doamnele sunt mai diplomate.

Boc n-a mai zis nimic. S-a dus probabil acasa sa-si mai pregateasca un rand de muschi si o pereche de cojones pentru urmatoarea motiune.

Cam atat pentru azi. Daca maine e mai liniste, m-oi uita la vreun film.

You could maybe call it road trippin’ in my home town.

Secondly, I wanted to link this in. I’ve always loved South Park, despite the often crude humour, because underneath it all there’s always a serious topic on debate. And it’s witty.

And this came along at a time when I have been feeling the same ever since I joined up (grudgingly so… peer pressure SUCKS!!).

I’ve even started missing out on events because modifications of date and time were only posted on F***book by friends. What happened to phone, or at least emailing, people?

… say, that actually looks cool. I’m gonna start calling it F***book from now on. Because unnecessary censorship is always fun.

For example:

Looking at it, I think my post does actually have a common theme – communication.

There’s a birthday wish to a person whose (mostly indirect) influence on my life I could not have guessed less than five years ago.

There’s a rant about the new tech wonder that aims to bring us together closer, faster, easier… but like any technology, it’s just a tool that augments the skills you already have. So if you’re a natural at being lonely, the 4567 people on your list that ignore you will only make you feel more so. I don’t want to lose the notion of “friend” by adding random people to a list… I want to keep it for what it was meant to signify – someone you can (and want to) talk to, who you share more than one common interest with, and someone you can actually trust and trusts you back. I made my friends the old-fashioned, hard way, but guess what – they won’t disappear from my life if the community server fails.

Then there was a video about mis-communication – that one I mostly picked because it’s funny. (Oh come on, I’ve never been able to play Debbie Downer all the way through.)

And then… there’s the little story below. I got it in a chain e-mail of all places… yes, I’m that person that always breaks the chain unless it’s actually really inspiring – I should have had so much bad luck coming my way by now, it’s a wonder I’m still alive and writing. But this one I felt like having with a cup of tea, ’cause it’s food for thought. (I’m having to put this back into English, so I hope not that much got lost in translation…)

When I was a kid, my dad got one of the first telephone devices in the neighborhood. I remember it well, that little shiny wooden box, mounted on the wall, the shiny receiver hanging on its side. I was still too young to reach it, but I always listened in awe to my mother talking into it.

Then I discovered that somewhere inside this machine lived an amazing person. Her name was Operator and there was nothing in this world that she didn’t know. Operator could tell you anyone’s number - and the exact time, to boot.

My experience with this genie in a bottle started one day while mom was visiting a neighbor and I was playing around with the toolbox in the basement. I hit my finger with the hammer. The pain was terrible and there was nobody around to sympathize. I ran around the house, sucking on my swollen finger, until I reached the staircase.

The telephone! I quickly dragged a chair from the living-room into the hallway, climbed on it, picked up the receiver and put it to my ear. “Operator!” I cried into the microphone above my head. After a couple of clicks, a low and clear voice reached me: “Operator.”

“I hurt my finger…” I sniffed into the telephone, and burst into tears now that I had an audience.

“Is your mommy not home?” the question followed.

“There’s nobody home but me…” I stammered.

“Are you bleeding?” the voice asked.

“No”, I answered. “I hit it with a hammer and it really, really hurts…”

“Can you open the ice box?” she asked. I said I could. “Then take out a bit of ice and keep it on your finger”, said the voice.

After that I started calling on Operator for any and everything. I asked for help with my geography lesson and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math homework. She told me the squirrel I’d caught in the park the day before ate berries and nuts.

Then came the day our pet canary, Petey, died. I called Operator and told her the sad news. She listened and started telling me the things grown-ups usually say to children to soothe them. I asked, “Why do birds, who sing so beautifully and bring so much joy to people, have to end up in a little pile of feathers at the bottom of a cage?”

I think she understood my worry, because she said softly, “Wayne, always remember there are other worlds to sing in.”

Then, another time, “Operator!”

“Operator”, answered the familiar voice.

“How do you spell FIX?”

All this was happening in a small Northwestern Pacific town. When I was nine, we moved across the country to Boston. I really missed my friend… Operator was left in that wooden mahogany box in our old house. I never tried calling the operator on the shiny modern phone of our new home.

I’d become a teenager but the memory of those childhood conversations haunted me everywhere… Often, in moments of uncertainty and helplessness, I remembered the serenity and safety of those old times. I now appreciated how patient and kind-hearted she must have been, to spend so much time on a small boy like me.

A few years later, I went back West, this time for college. I had a half-hour layover in Seattle. I spent fifteen minutes on the phone with my sister, who had been living here for a while. Then, without thinking, I dialed the operator number for our home town and said, “Operator!”

Miraculously, I heard the same low, clear voice that I knew so well. “Operator.”

I hadn’t planned on it, but I heard myself saying, “Can you tell me, how do you spell FIX?”

There was a long pause. Then the soft voice answered, “I think your little finger is healed by now.”

I laughed. “So it really is you”, I said. “I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me back then.”

“And I wonder”, she said, “if you have any idea how much your calls meant to me. I never had any children and I was looking forward to hearing you every day…”

I told her how much I’d thought about her over the years and asked her if I could call her again when I came to visit my sister.

“Anytime”, she said. “Just ask for Sally.”

I came back to Seattle three months later. Another operator answered and I asked for Sally.

“Are you a friend?” she asked.

“Yes, a very old friend… Wayne.”

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this”, she said. “Sally only worked here part-time in the past few years, because she was sick. She died five weeks ago.”

Before I hung up, she said “Wait a minute, did you say your name was Wayne?”

“Yeah”, I answered.

“Well, Sally left a message for you… She wrote it down in case you’d call. I’ll read it to you.”

Her message was, “Tell him there are other worlds to sing in. He’ll know what I mean.”

I thanked her and hung up. I did know what Sally meant.

Never underestimate the impression you made on somebody else.

I have traveled halfway across the world and met up with people that took me along on a 5-day car road trip (yes, that one I still haven’t documented).

I’ve traveled halfway across the continent and been put up for the week by people I had only talked to online before.

I have friends that I can laugh with all day long, some of them which I haven’t even met in person yet, and some I only met once or twice.

I have friends I’ve known for years, that I can talk to after months of separation or after meeting up the day before, and still chat with for hours on end, about stuff from music to politics to life in general.

I have friends I can go dancing with all night long, and their appreciation for my dancing skills (or at least enthusiasm) is good for my ego.

And I have friends who invited me along for a meet-up last week (the usual loud, confusing, gregairous, talkative, fun, and did I mention loud sort of meet-up the Proactives always have), only to find out they had secretly planned an early birthday gift for me. Even though we don’t work together anymore and lately we mostly talk via e-mails.

So yeah, friends rule. Thanks for being there for me.

Last night (of course during a video game I hadn’t saved up to that point) the power went out. One quick fweeeoooom and then it was all dark as, well, night.

After the grr-I-was-playing-that groan, I waited for a couple of minutes but the power didn’t come back on. Then I took it as a sign I should call it a night, have a supper and get to bed.

It may or may not come as a surprise that I constantly feel the need to occupy my mind with something… if I can’t read or listen to music, the degree of rambling that goes on between my two neurons surpasses even the one noticeable in this here blog. And since 90% of the time I eat alone, there’s usually a book to keep me company.

I went therefore in search of light (doesn’t that sound like a quest?). I had thus the occasion to find a number of depleted batteries and a few broken torches. (I find that one rarely realizes how much junk one owns until the moment something useful is needed but barely found.)

Having finally found a working torch and pair of batteries, I realized I’d need the light to be at least slightly elevated if any reading was to take place (and putting stuff on bread using only one hand is also one of the skills I lack as yet). Then I remembered my scented candle I bought about 7 (yes seven) years ago but never used… and managed to fish out a box of matches.

Then I had a romantic dinner in the company of the charming Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

Who says romance is dead?

No, I didn’t go to see it because of Johnny Depp. I know, I know… how weird am I?

No, I’m not lying!

Besides, have you actually seen the trailer/movie stills/posters? An unkempt but charming pirate may have brought sexy back, but what they’ve done to turn him into the Mad Hatter has definitely turned sexy away again.

But he is cute. Whenever the weird took a break for the sad/pensive/melancholy, the Hatter was a character in need of a hug, and perfectly huggable at that.

By the way, my first reaction when I saw the trailer for Alice was, “is that movie actually supposed to be for kids??”, and having now seen it I think my question was perfectly justified. (Not to mention that, ironically, MPAA rated the Disney movie R because a blue caterpillar smokes in it… and judging by the other characters’ reaction to his somking, it may be fair to say the guy was smoking weed. Also, it has fair amounts of violence and Johnny Depp is mad. Way to go, Disney.)

Back on track, I found the film rather underwhelming.

The twist they brought to Lewis Carroll’s story was interesting – Alice’s return to Wonderland, after having gone through the adventures of the book, only to find the Red Queen has taken over the land and everyone expects her to kill the Jabberwocky and save the day. So it’s basically a coming of age story – none the worse for having been done before, and focusing on a strong female lead, which has always been a plus for me. (I still think, to date, Ellen Ripley is bar none the best female ass-kicker in movieland.)

I wasn’t as impressed as expected with the special effects, because

a) it wasn’t as 3D as other movies I’ve seen (really, apart from a few landscape and chase scenes, nothing was added to the experience by the 3D glasses).

b) there is such thing as too much CGI, apparently… maybe it’s just because it wasn’t as fluently done as to blend in well enough… or maybe that was what Tim B. was aiming for – a wonder-worldly feel to some of the characters

c) and because sometimes the screen was too dark to fully appreciate what was going on… It almost seemed that someone messed with the contrast of the film and left it hazy. If that was the movie theater’s fault, I should like to whack someone there; if not, Burton takes the blame.

Another technical thing that killed it for me was the sound - I can honestly say there were about 4 (four) times when it was actually surround (by the time it was audible I had begun to wonder about it). But the worst part was the front – you know, where most of the action, music and FREAKIN’ DIALOGUE happen – because you could hardly hear it. And as a person who usually turns music and movie volumes down to not disturb other people at home, I know what I expect when going to the cinema – loud, engulfing sound. I actually had to rely on the subtitles several times, and I try to avoid 3D subtitles like the plague. Sadder still because Danny Elfman’s music was fitting.

Again, if this was a theater-related technical issue, I’d like to take this opportunity to verbally abuse the people responsible for it. Consider yourselves abused.

My only other gripe would be the superficial approach to most of the characters, and here I place the blame on the screenplay and directing. It may be odd, but in the spirit of Wonderland for all of its inhabitants to show some degree of madness. I could live with that. What I couldn’t really digest was the impression that all the actors were told to act crazy but not given a proper character history… a how but not a why. Either that, or the theatrical version of the film was so savagely dismembered that only a director’s cut might redeem it.

I couldn’t understand or relate to any of the characters – what drove them? why were they like this and where were they heading? – except perhaps Alice (who slowly regains her memory of the previous visit and acquires oodles of confidence) and the Red Queen (whose philosophy was that it’s better to be feared than loved – that and “off with their heads!”). The “well they’re crazy people” excuse doesn’t justify it – have you seen A Beautiful Mind?

For all of Johnny Depp’s skill (and screen time), all I got from his character was a sense of pity and occasional feeling of “huh?”. Why does the grunting Bandersnatch switch sides and help Alice in the end, yet nobody seems to give the poor but eloquent Jabberwocky the time of day? Is the White Queen still under the shadow of a violent emotional event, or does she act that way because she always tests her potions on herself? And what’s her relationship with the Hatter, anyway?

As far as the performances go, everyone did a splendid job with whatever was handed to them. Christopher Lee took all of three lines and added to the awe of the Jabberwocky.  The Red Queen showed something of her human side while she was wondering why she isn’t loved. Alice went from scared to confused to resolute to heroic. The White Queen… well she just went far out there, man… (but still looked stunning and airy doing it) The Mad Hatter basically followed the White Queen down the same path, with a concerned look on his face… oh and he also danced a mean Futterwacken. And no smoking, snarky, cryptic, know-it-all blue caterpillar has ever been cooler than when Alan Rickman provides the voice.

Bottom line – beyond the technical difficulties, a cool movie. Good acting, characters that demand attention but aren’t getting enough, quirky atmosphere, but not as engaging as it could have been. I’d see it again, to see what I missed.

Now excuse me, the commercial break is over and we’re back to the Oscars.

Proof of the day: she won the Worst Actress Razzie for All About Steve. She not only showed up (which is rare – and considering the nature of the Razzies, understandably so), but she proceeded to poke fun at herself and the situation with her own kind of humour and class.

Dang it. Now I’m gonna have to go watch the film and see what the fuss was all about.

I’d heard about this concert since early January (or was it late December?) so I went and purchased my ticket well over a month in advance. Just the one, since the people I asked at the time fidgeted enough before answering.

Then, about a week before, I asked two of the girls I used to work with – Oana was already going and Florina came for my sake – and my parents, who reluctantly accepted (again for my sake), so I ended up making two more trips to the store to get tickets, and hoping that the salespeople wouldn’t start to recognize me and get annoyed at my persistence.

Those fears were soon alleviated, however, when I got the same guy selling me the tickets and making the same “huh? tickets for who?” face every time.

Since the show was general admission we arrived at The Silver Church Club about an hour beforehand – the venue is very intimate; I’d say there were maybe a little less than 1000 people there and the place was already packed. If there is one thing to bitch about before moving on to the good stuff  (which seems to be my M.O. these days), that would be smoking. I’m a non-smoker whose lot seems to always be to go to some place with inadequate ventilation and plenty of cigarette-puffers… and us Romanians seem to love our inhaled nicotine. (Hmmm, maybe I should start inviting or visiting people more…)

After checking our coats at the door, we spent the remaining 40 minutes inching towards the stage – and ended up at a not-too-shabby 4-5 meters from the stage… good thing, too, because there was virtually no audience gap and the stage wasn’t even elevated. It was Valentine’s Day (which we seem to have speedily adopted, in detriment of our similar traditional Dragobete on Feb. 24th) so there were a bunch of heart-shaped balloons that we played with to pass the time.

The stage was very small, with not much room to move even for Vonda and her three-piece band… which was OK, seeing that her set list contained fewer up-tempo songs, and most of the time the star herself was to be found behind her piano. That’s not to say there wasn’t any stage movement – there was, and for a few tracks Vonda picked up a tambourine and went center-stage.

The show itself was perhaps what KC’s shows could be some distant day, when she’s toned it down a notch… (yeah, like that’s ever gonna happen!) What I mean by that is, it was just focused on the music – guitar, bass, drums, piano, and of course Vonda’s heartfelt vocals – nicely supported by a pretty but not overpowering light show. Did I mention I love this kind of artists?

9 P.M. – Vonda takes the stage, opening with the title track of her latest album – From The Sun. Instant response from Oana and Flo - “Niiiice! What’s this track called?” (Come to think of it, Oana kept asking me that for the first 4-5 songs, hehe.)

Now if there’s one thing my attending concerts abroad taught me, it’s that artists love feedback. It energizes them, relaxes them, makes them connect with - and offer more to – their audience. This has made me change my concert-going attitude – while I still try to be respectful and not block other people’s view or step on their toes, I do admit to liking to jump around, sing along (when not recording video) and yelling at the people on stage… it’s the best way of communicating, usually.

As a result, you may hear me I’m gonna bust your eardrums responding to Vonda’s question about halfway through the video below.

The “conversation” went down like this:

Vonda: The last time we were here we played some songs from my last album, called From the Sun… Do you know From The Sun?

Audience Me: YEAHHHH!!!

*crickets followed by general laughter*

Vonda: *points at me* You do! Thank you!

*more laughter*

Me: I got it!!!

Vonda: Please make copies for the rest of the people in here.

I would honestly hope more people had/have since bought the album.

After the first three tracks from the last album – From The Sun, Roll In The Dirt, Another January – it was time to go for some Ally McBeal soundtrack stuff. Like The Wildest Times Of The World.

I suppose I should be grateful that my camera mic is crappy and can only handle ballads – otherwise I would have only watched the show through the lens (I have this problem with live gigs, I can’t help snapping away). As it is, I did get to enjoy some of the faster-paced tracks that followed, like a cover of The Staple Singers’ Respect Yourself, and Vonda’s own Downtown (Dirtytown).

We slowed down a bit again, with Like A Hemisphere… After it we had a little language lesson. She knew how to thank us with “merci” but asked what the proper thank you would be… Well with 15 people yelling ”MULTUMESC!” from all over the place, no wonder she got lost in translation. The end result – a close-but-not-quite-there “multumesse”.

Then we got a real, beyond-the-language connection during Maryland, as we sang along on the la-las and the performers loved it. You can briefly see the bass player go back and forth on the stage – he borrowed someone’s camera and filmed us from the stage. (I wouldn’t presume to brag, but we did sound pretty good, better than what you can hear in the video.)

One more current-album ballad, I Know Better, and then we picked up the pace, with a soulful and funky cover of Aretha’s Every Natural Thing. Vonda was dancing along on her piano, playing standing up – not as frantically as Jerry Lee Lewis, but definitely sexier.

 The fun continued with Sweet Inspiration…

And finally Vonda came to the center stage, accompanied by an acoustic guitar, for I Only Wanna Be With You… sing-along time! (that’s not me you’re hearing, though)

Back to the piano for Rain Or Shine…

 We got introduced to the band.

Mr. James Ralston on guitar… formerly employed by one Miss Tina Turner!

On the drums, Mr. Michael Urbano, who played with the likes of Smash Mouth and Sheryl Crow!

And, having played bass for the likes of Rodney Crowell, Johnny Cash (again you can hear me being the country fan in the venue) and THE BOSS himself… Mr. Jim Hanson!

Seriously, an A+ band.

And then it was time to rock out again, to Someday We’ll Be Together…

And full-on McBeal mode, with Searchin’ My Soul.

They left the stage and left us clapping. So naturally, the encore followed, full of energy, with Something About You. Then Vonda took the center stage again for Tell Him…

More Ally McBeal stuff, with Hooked On A Feeling.

And then they said goodbye again. So we started clapping again, making more noise… Some people were ready to pack up and go home, but I for one persisted – and it payed off! They returned for the second encore.

We got our groove on and danced to Aretha’s Chain Of Fools, with Vonda on the tambourine.

Then the show closer – You Belong To Me – was a romantic one, because of Valentine’s Day… even though Vonda said she doesn’t really celebrate it herself… I hear ya, ma’am. I didn’t care for it even when I had someone to celebrate with.

I’m no cynic, though, I love this beautifully haunting song.

Thank you, Vonda Shepard, for a fun and heart-warming show. Come back soon… ’cause I don’t know if I can make it to the States this year.

P.S. So why the detailed show description, you ask? (If you didn’t ask, I’ll tell you anyway.)

Two reasons:

1. It was a really good show (I was thanked by everyone I invited along), and I wanted to try this chronicling method;

2. I have Vonda’s set list right here. That’s the other thing I learned on the road – if you can’t get the souvenirs straight from the band (or there’s no merch stand, like in this case), your best bet is to nicely ask the roadies packing up after the show. They are always very cool and obliging people.

As it sometimes happens with YouTube, I thought the comments were even funnier than the video itself. I suggest you check them out too, at this link.

Thank you, Miles. I hadn’t laughed myself to tears in a while.