happiness

Happiness can be so simple.
A cold shower after a blazing day.

Exit . output

Roughly the daily EXIT schedule.
09.00 wake up after couple of hours of sleep all sweaty, taking your sleeping back and trying to find a place to sleep in the shadow
12.00 waiting in line to get in the shower
13.00 slurping a fresh squeezed juice (oh, the heaven!!!)
14.00 flirting with the idea of eating (chinese or one of the to many gorgeous guys passing)
15.00 finding a place to lay in the shadow
16.00 smoking the first cigarette and thinking how lucky we are to find such a cool place
17.00 starting to read
17.01 sleeping with the mouth open
17.35 waking for a brief thought of how soft and comfortable is your bed, back home, and how ungrateful you are with it when your home
18.00 sleeping
19.00 sleeping
20.00 dreaming about having supernatural powers and vaporizing the drunken english chorus
21.00 moving back in the tent for another round of uncomfortable sleeping
21.30 dreaming about teleporting all the loud drunken english singers to the North Pole.
21.35 having a cold shower
21.50 looking at Selma doing her nails
22.30 looking at Selma doing her nails
22.49 looking pissed at Selma doing her nails
23.00 leaving the Exit village camping grounds
23.20 deciding "eh, fuck Moby, lets go and have a coffee at a bar"
00.00 getting a full body check up at the exit entrance festival grounds
00.05 "How the hell would we pass thru this crowds"
00.45 eating on live Prodigy
01.30 getting the wine
02.00 fighting the crowds
02.30 finally, the Dance Arena
03.00 Party SUUUUUUUUPER PAAAAAAAAAAAARTY!!!! till dawn

Side note: yes, you can eat a piece of cake with a straw. Stretch it Rodica! (which is a phonetical variation of Happy birthday in serbian)

EXIT . Novi Sad

Never been to an Open air before. Not like at the whole thing. At some concerts within an Open Air yes; looking curious at the camping site thinking, neh, not for me. Well, baby, forget showers, bread, french lessons and yoga silence and give me the beer, french kisses and hit me with the bass!

is OMU jewish?

Emilia Dima Jurca

Our theater teacher passed away.
She taught us self confidence, diction and how to sit on a chair on a stage.
May you, dear Doamna Emi rest in peace.

Teatrul vesnic tanar

self sufficient

SNAP

I didn't hear it at that time but there was clearly a SNAP. And there it went. From that time on any drop of romance that I would manifest would be strategic, planned. Like a wife would plan a dinner in a way. To by satisfactory, probably heavy and the remote control to be on the right place on the table and the beer just cold enough. Thats how I would probably plan any romantic moment. After a certain recipe that along the way I learned being involved with theater and arts.
Just get the guy happy and maybe addicted a bit. And then redraw without leaving any emotional mark on the person. If possible. If not, its an universal assumed risk.

On the other side even if I still feel a shadow of an urge for a spontaneous moment I know those are the things that send your mind into spinning. So, whats the point when it comes to romance? Then better take a trip to see a good show or travel with friends. That is healthy mind energy to feed on.

As a contrast that's why Afrims play got me so hooked and emotional. Poring tears over lost innocence exchanged with clear guidelines of how things should be.
Keeping the trend of consumerism, dating became a way of experiencing strangers physically and sometimes even physically. Fun but pretty hollow.

So SNAP (was a band once wasn't it?)
But when I'm drunk I find myself repeatably listen Halo. And would like to hear a bedtime story about a person with surrealistic powers.

Faust

For me, as a theatre onlooker, the theatre season is over. There is no stage, no actor, no director that I want to play with my mind and caress me with his visions. After seeing 3 undoubtedly* good plays I cant even muster the will to even watch a movie.

The last of this series was Faust by Goethe, directed by Purcarete in Sibiu (Teatrul Radu Stanca) with Ofelia Popii as Mephisto. I dont have the gift of words to even try to describe the unleashed energies and nightmares, but I can tell you that. After the play, when I've met the leading actress Ofelia, an old friend from my teenage years, I could not look into her eyes. Was like looking in the eyes of pure evil. Even if she was as warm and natural as I remember her.
Reading a bit about the play on some blogs I read somewhere (sorry but I cant find the link anymore) that Purcarete version of Faust is a full demonstration of what theater really is.Or it should.

Source: Oana Fofiu, Ovidiu Dumitru Matiu

I would go again to see Faust, thats for sure.

As a side note, while watching Afrims or Purcarete's plays is a bit like suffering of ADD. Universes semiotically layered, rich in details, new languages developed, that at the first viewing you are like a child trying to understand the cause and effect (Faust) and the difference of good and evil (Afrim); to realize, for the later, that you cannot distinguish and filter those through ration but through emotions and passions. But through which emotions or passions to judge?

*it is a personal opinion