M-am mutat pe Blogspot!

Dupa ce am creat acest blog, incepuse sa imi para din ce in ce mai rau ca nu l.am creat pe platforma blogspot.

Ma mut definitv la www.felixnego.blogspot.com pentru ca mereu mi.au placut ce au de oferit cei de la Google (in special cu noua interfata pentru blogging de acolo)

Hope to see you there!

I no longer hear your voice

I no longer hear your voice.
I am no longer able to see your face.
Why does water no longer comfort my thirst?
I am trapped. For I am a coward.
I foolishly thought hiding behind this false state of peace would make me happy.
I was too afraid to move on.

Time passes and things cannot be as they were.
The only way for me is to step into the light.
I want to hear your voice again.
I want to see your face again.
I shall set myself free.

I can’t turn back…

“Boarded the train, there’s no getting off”

Nu se merita sa te risti!

Ok, treaba e cam asa:

Sa presupunem ca vine la tine un om cu o cagula si iti pune un pistol incarcat la tampla dupa care iti sopteste: “Zii ‘nu se merita’ sau iti imprastii creierul pe asfalt!” Atunci, tu, cu pulsul relaxat si fara nicio problema (ca sa il citez pe Badea) ii raspunzi: “Bine, impusca-ma!”

Morala: sub nicio forma o persoana sanatoasa la cap nu va spune in aceasta viata ca ceva ‘nu se merita’. Este o greseala de cel mai inalt nivel. Poti sa spui ca ceva merita sau nu merita altceva, dar actiunea de a merita nu se poate rasfrange asupra subiectului, trebuie sa ai probleme sa il pui si pe ‘se’ in ecuatie.

Acelasi lucru e valabil si pentru deja faimoasa zicala “nu ma risc”. Cum dracu cineva se poate risca pe sine este peste puterea mea de intelegere. Poti sa risti sau sa nu risti CEVA, verbul are un complement sub forma unui verb la conjunctiv deci nu se rasfrange asupra subiectului.

Stiu ca e complicata treaba cu limba romana, dar deja nu mai pot cu expresiile astea doua. Simt ca o iau razna!

The Story of the Fearless Fool

In another place, in another time there once lived a fearless foolish young man. He was incredibly smart, brave and quite handsome. A natural leader, he was the kind of man that stood out from the crowd. His advice was valued, his opinions respected and his orders obeyed, for he was fortunate enough to have been born in a noble family. But most important of all, he was surrounded by love, and he cherished that because he suffered from a disease that was slowly eating away his life. He did not fear it however – he feared nothing…or so it seemed. Due to his charisma there were incredibly many people that cared about him, that loved being in his company. And he loved that too; he liked sharing, discussing, chatting and helping out. Needless to say help was always offered to him when he needed it. He had a peculiar ability to see beyond words and look into the deep, true nature of a person, thanks to which he formed strong bonds easily.
Everyone he met became his friend in a blink of an eye, for he was strong. It was as if all those who knew him were bent to his strong resolve. This man had the power to change people but ironically he did not have the power to change himself. He was seldom wrong, however the less intelligent people around him failed to see that from time to time, but that never discouraged him. He knew he must go on because he had something to do. Hewanted to do something. And when we wanted something really bad it was as if the entire Universe was working for him and eventually granted the man what he desired. What he wanted the most was to achieve his life purpose; he even said that he would happily give his life to God after he did that. He was no afraid of death. Only stupid people are scared of something that cannot be avoided.
One of his friends, a curious little girl, once asked him: ”Do you have a goal? A purpose? Something worth living for?”
“Of course” he said. “I think that living for no reason is much worse than being dead. We all need a dream to give meaning to our lives. Otherwise, you just exist in vain which is no help for anyone”.
“And what is your dream?” asked the girl with a funny expression on her face.
“Even I see that there is too much hatred in the world. My dream is to do something about it. To battle the hatred and encourage peace” came his quick reply. He was really proud every time he said that because he knew he would succeed. Something from the inside told him that. It was the same something that told him this was his duty in this life. Of course, that idea did not come out of nowhere. He was inspired to do so by a person he loved very much. A person who did the same thing: battled hatred.
“How?” The girl’s stare became even more piercing. It was like she was looking directly into his soul. He expected this question. Most people considered his dream impossible to achieve so this question appeared every time. And to their surprise he had an answer for it – an answer different than i’m still working on that or I don’t know but I will find out. 
“I think the answer to that is art. I want to create art that will inspire people to let go of their hate and embrace love”. The young fool was hoping to become a writer. He thought that if he created something incredible enough we could persuade the world that his view was the right one. As for the girl, judging by the way she looked at him and the lack of a reply, the boy assumed she had no dream. He felt pity for her.
One of the few thing the young man didn’t know was that we was being stalked by a most intriguing character that one day decided to reveal itself. She was a witch, that much the boy could tell at first sight.
“Who are you?”
“Who I am is of no importance. Why I am here does actually matter. I have a challenge for you, my boy” the witch told him in a low voice. The fool remained still for a couple of moments and the witch asked: “Are you scared?” So that was it. She wanted to test him, to see for herself that there actually exists such a thing as a man without fear.
“No, I am not scared” came the boy’s answer. Indeed he did not show any sign of being afraid. He behaved like he had known that old lady for a long time. As a matter of fact, it actually reminded him of a dark, more evil version of someone. He just couldn’t tell who.
The witch smiled. “Very well. All I want you to do is look into a mirror. Sounds quite simple, doesn’t it? But before we proceed you should know that this is no ordinary mirror for it does not show you. It depicts the one thing that you are most afraid about in the world. So if you are as brave and fearless as you want everyone else to think, you should have no problem taking a look”. He agreed and followed the witch to her dungeon where she showed him the magical mirror. He approached it with caution and looked. At first, it did show him and appeared to be nothing mare than a usual mirror. But afterwards, he started seeing it. And what a horrible sight was it. He never realized until then that this was the only thing he ever feared. He started crying and saying: “No, please don’t! Please, I’m begging you…don’t do it!”. And with a shout he got away from the mirror. He collapsed on the floor and started gasping. It seemed like his fear was so strong it actually caused him physical pain.
“What did you see?” the witch asked with a satisfied look on her face. She was old and wise enough to know that we all have our fears. We are only humans, after all.
“I saw everyone I cared about abandoning me one by one. I saw myself alone and in agony because of it”.

During the next years the young man tried so hard to keep everyone near that he produced the inevitable result: they started abandoning him one by one exactly the way he saw it in that mirror long time ago. He found out the hard way that being very intelligent blocks one’s way to happiness because you are no longer content with the ones around you. You grow arrogant and conceited and this pushes people away. For a while he tried to get used to living alone by telling himself that he needed no one. But he was wrong. It was really difficult for him since he got so much love and no one to share it with. He was in agony, now.
He went looking for the witch and when he found her he asked to take a look in the mirror again.
“Why?” she asked.
“I want to see what can be worse than this. I want to see what can make me more unhappy than this”. Of course, the witch agreed and let him take a look in the mirror once more.
He approached it again without caution this time. The old woman was staring at him curiously. He did not cry this time, nor did he shout, nor did he gesture anything.
“What did you see?” she asked in a loud voice.
Just as he thought: “Nothing…I see nothing”

Despre Conditia Geniului

Cu siguranta, pentru mine, cele mai fascinante creaturi ale lumii au fost mereu geniile. Ceea ce face subiectul si mai interesant este multitudinea de teorii cu privire la ce anume inseamna sa fii genial. Ce mare pacat ca noi muritorii de rand nu vom putea sti niciodata cu exactitate ce presupune asta. Suntem blestemati sa speculam despre ceva ce nu vom intelege pe deplin si totusi o facem pentru ca sta in natura noastra de curiosi. Pentru ca am fost martori la orchestratiile geniului si suntem cuprinsi de dorinta de a diseca si analiza, de a vedea ce sta in spatele unei astfel de orchestratie.

Prima trasatura care se arata celui ce studiaza viata marilor genii este incompatibiliatea cu lumea contemporana, incapabilitatea de a se adapta mediului inconjurator. Asta pentru ca un geniu vede lumea diferit. Este un autist care nu vrea sa iasa din domeniul operei sale. O vede peste tot, in orice si raporteaza totul la ea. Nici cel mai puternic concurs de circumstante nu poate sa desparta un geniu de arta sa – este aproape ca si cum legile universale nu i se aplica. Este singurul lucru de care are nevoie si singurul lucru pe care il vrea. Din acest motiv mai niciunul nu a dezvoltat relatii inter-umane foarte puternice. Pentru ca cei din jur nu vad ceea ce vede el, iar el nu vrea sa se oboseasca cu trivialitatile muritorilor de rand.

Cu riscul de a muta aceasta pseudo-sinteza intr-o directie spiritual-religioasa, trebuie totusi sa subliniez ca aceasta flacara ce serveste drept combustibil fiecarui geniu nu poate fi doar un produs al creierului uman. Suntem nevoiti sa acceptam ca e mai mult decat atat pentru ca, de multe ori, opera unui astfel de om este una care tinteste drept spre sufletul tau. Nu este doar o inovatie si atat. Starea de spirit pe care o am de fiecare data cand ascult o simfonie de Beethoven sau cand citesc o soneta de Shakespeare ma face sa cred ca aceste exemplare luminate au fost alese de insusi Marele Demiurg.

Un lucru important de care trebuie sa ne ferim este presupunerea ca un geniu este o persoana cu un foarte ridicat nivel de inteligenta. Acest lucru este absolut fals. Inteligenta nu are de-a face cu sciliprea geniala pentru ca se alimenteaza din mai multi factori precum: capacitate de analiza si sinteza, putere de intelegere, capabilitate de rezolvare a problemelor, cultura generala, numar de circumvolutiuni samd. Pe cand geniul este o singura trasatura compacta si auto-suficienta care se alimenteaza doar din ea insasi. Reprezinta mult mai mult decat simpla inteligenta (asta nu inseamna ca o anuleaza). Este o calitate nativa, nu construita prin frecventarea scolilor si autoeducare. O alta importanta diferenta este ca omul ce poseda aceasta flacara nu isi propune simpla supravietuire a vietii biologice, cum face omul inzestrat cu inteligenta, ci isi propune nemurirea. Culmea e ca si reuseste.

In concluzie, eforturile noastre de a obtine o intelegere completa sunt strivite de amploarea subiectului. In orice caz, asta nu ne opreste sa aspiram la asa ceva, sa studiem, sa incercam. Putem avea certitudinea finala ca geniul reprezinta un exces de talent, iar oamenii ce il poseda sunt acei oameni cu puterea de a schimba lumea.

The Moon is Red Tonight

Cold. Severe cold. Not the environmental cold of the night, I got used to that many years ago. The cold from within. Lurking at the very foundation of your being – the soul. It makes you shiver with anxiety. It freezes up your mind and makes it almost impossible to breathe. That’s why only the strong can do it. And I used to be strong before I retired. They called me the best. I was the man they called when no one else could accomplish a certain task because I was the coldest of them all. Now I am but a mere shadow of my former self. My exile weakened me to no end. But it does not matter, for I have one final task to do.
It is said that the beginning is the most difficult. That you can’t pull yourself together at your first try because you do not know how to control your emotions. I won’t disagree completely. Standing here on top of this insanely tall building, watching the busy city that never sleeps, I remember the first time I did it. It’s going to be impossible for me to forget; that scene will stay with me for the rest of my life. I even dream about it sometimes. However, I am quite sure this is going to be the most difficult one for me. Because this is different – because her…I used to love. That’s the reason I went in self-imposed exile in the first place. It is forbidden to bond with other people; obviously because it can get in the way of your work. But it happens sometimes. And when it does…you have to fix it.
So I am going to fix it. Tonight.
A part of me still doesn’t want to do it. But it’s necessary. So I get up and travel to the park. She is there alone just as I suspected she would be, which is good because no one needs to see what is going to happen. No that they could do anything about it – this is indeed my first assignment after my retirement but I still can’t be caught. No one can get me.
Do I have any doubts? Should I have any doubts? I know what’s about to happen and I know who it’s going to happen to, still I am going on with it. It’s like a whispering in my brain telling me to do it and I am powerless against it.
I am right behind her now so I draw my katana and quickly  stab her in a vital body point, like and expert would do. I turn her around so I can see her one last time and so she can she her assailant. It is very important for her to know who killed her. That way she can figure out why in the next life. Blood is slowly dripping out of her mouth while she is staring at me with that defiant look that is so characteristic of her. It’s almost like she knew this was about to happen and now she doesn’t want to give me any satisfaction by being surprised at all. She closes her eyes and dies in my arms. My previous nightmare will be replaced with this one.
They say that the moon turns red when an innocent  is killed out of vengeance because some forgotten goddess is crying blood over it.
The moon is red tonight…

Ce se intampla cand nu iti place Eminescu?

Atentie: urmatoarele randuri reprezinta doar opinia mea personala. Acest articol este TOTAL nerecomandat semidoctilor, indoctrinatilor, habarnistilor, ne-iubitorilor de Eminescu sau persoanelor care sufera de epilepsie. Daca te inscri in una din categoriile mentionate, da click aici. 

Spre surprinderea oricarui om crescut in anumite valori morale care promoveaza frumosul si respecta geniul, exista o categorie de persoane carora nu le place opera lui Mihai Eminescu. M-am cam saturat de apriga dezbatere a subiectului “Eminescu – ilustru geniu sau siropos comun?”, iar pozitia mea este dupa cum urmeaza:

Fara nicio indoiala, poetul nostru national a fost varful piramidei de genii pe care le-a produs aceasta tara. Negarea acestui adevar este un lucru abject ce sfideaza oligofrenia. Atunci nu poti sa nu te intrebi de ce nu le place unor oameni ceva frumos, inteligent, inaltator, pur, inspirator si revelator precum poeziile sus-mentionatului.

Sigur, exista posibilitatea de a nu intelege despre ce este vorba si atunci presupun ca nu se poate stabili o legatura cititor-opera, sentimentul de repulsie urmand probabil natural. Dar daca nu intelegi atunci de ce l-ai clasifica sub denumirea de “comun”? Ai rabdare, dezvolta-te si reciste; daca nici atunci nu se obtine rezultatul optim ai nevoie de ajutor specializat.

Despre cei care intr-adevar inteleg si tot nu le place sau nu pot simpatiza cu ce e acolo nu pot spune decat ca sunt sterili, nedezvoltati spiritual si intelectual sau cu un handicap asemanator orbirii. Sunt aproape sigur ca pot fi diagnosticati pe bune pentru asa ceva. Mi-ar fi placut sa ii putem ajuta intr-un fel, sa ii salvam de la soarta zbaterii pe marginea existentei, dar nu putem. Imi pare sincer rau.

P.S.: Replica mea la “De gustibus non est disputandum” este “Spune-mi ce citesti si am sa iti spun cine esti“…(E un motiv pentru care este reprezentat pe cea mai valoroasa bancnota romana).

P.S.2: Acelasi lucru se aplica pentru Nichita Stanescu, G.G. Byron samd.

Dialog cu un preot

-Si celalalte religii?

-Ce e cu ele?

-Cum demonstram ca noi detinem credinta veridica? Ca noi avem dreptate?

-Simplu: nu noi avem. Toti avem dreptate. Nu exista religii care vorbesc despre adevar si religii care mint, toate exprima in realitate acelasi lucruri vazut din alte unghiuri sau in alte feluri. Ideea ca un anumit grup iti poate spune ceva infailibil si ca ceilalti gresesc apartine unor indoctrinati care nu au inteles nimic din filosofia vietii. Nu conteaza cum il denumesti pe cel caruia te rogi, el va fi acolo pentru tine…

Dumnezeu a murit! Semnat, Nietzsche

Topicul acestui post este foarte sensibil si anume Doamne Doamne. Stiu ca ii va deranja pe multi spalati pe creier, dar opiniile mele sunt dupa cum urmeaza:

In primul rand, trebuie sa mentionez ca sunt convins de existenta divinitatii. Nu cred ca am aparut accidental si nici nu cred ca dupa moarte nu ne asteapta altceva decat Marele Nimic, pentru ca atunci totul ar fi lipsit de sens. Motivul pentru care multa lume ma intreaba daca sunt ateu sau nu este pentru ca nu sunt de acord cu unele lucruri din “infailibila” doctrina crestina.

Religia, ca si concept de baza, a fost pusa pe picioare pentru a deservi drept instrument de control al maselor. Sa luam un exemplu concret: In Evul Mediu, un grup urias de scelerati denumiti crestini au ucis oameni pe banda rulanta pentru simplu fapt ca nu doreau sa adere la viziunile lor religioase. Prin inchizitie, oamenii acuzati de erezie (sau de cele mai multe ori ca nu ii erau simpatici preotului catolic) mureau in cele mai groaznice chinuri. Cum atunci sa ader la niste idei cand nici cei care le propaga nu cred in ele? (Sigur ca niste oligofreni cu un neuron care sufera de singuratate vor spune “da, dar inchizitia a fost acum mult timp”. Nu conteaza. Sa torturezi oameni doar pentru ca nu vor sa se roage lui Doamne Doamne, cand doctrina ta iti spune ca trebuie sa iubesti aproapele, inseamna ca esti la fel de rau ca Dracu si in consecinta trebuie sa dispari definitiv).

Un alt aspect anexat si la fel de sensibil este Biblia. Exista niste persoane (saracele de ele) care iau de buna tot ce scrie in cartea cu pricina. Nu exista izvoare istorice care sa ateste ca ce scrie in Biblie s-a intamplat cu adevarat, dar nici nu conteaza. Ea este acolo pentru a deprinde ceva din ea, pentru a invata, nu pentru a face istorie, pentru ca este plina de contradictii si date anacronice.

Toata treaba cu Divinitatea este destul de complicata si deci nu accesibila oamenilor cu inteligenta sub medie, care nu vor face altceva decat sa fie niste marionete cu creierul spalat.

Nietzsche a murit. Semnat, Dumnezeu.

E lovitura!

Se oficializeaza: good news is no news.

Nu e nimic complicat, pur si simplu asistam la disparitia gradata a conceptului de “good news”. Cand a fost ultima data cand ati auzit ceva pozitiv la minunatele canale de stiri? (Reportaje despre nu stiu ce pisica care a supravietuit in mod miraculos unui incendiu nu se pun) Parerea mea este ca acest gen de audiovizual nu face altceva decat sa ne bombardeze negativ psihic, motiv pentru care am si renuntat sa ma mai uit. Exista totusi o realitate in spatele acestor fapte, pentru ca aici doream sa ajung, si anume ca se produce o degradare perpetua a orice. Faimosul dicton “nici <insereaza orice aici> nu mai e ce a fost odata” incepe sa devina din ce in ce mai prezent in lucrurile pe care le spunem. Concepte asociate in majoritatea timpului batranilor, aceste lamentari despre trecut devin din ce in ce mai pregnante si in randurile tinerilor: generatiile sunt mult mai slabe, entertainment-ul e de cea mai proasta calitate posibila, promovarea prostiei si a mediocritatii este in floare, alimentele sunt din ce in ce mai sintetice si lista poate continua.

Nu cred ca mai e mult timp pana vom resimti cu totii efectele subsecvente.

E lovitura…

Timpul nu mai are rabdare cu oamenii…