Trees that wear hats

I think I heard the old man say Leave her, Johnny, leave her... For the voyage is long and the winds don't blow And it's time for us to leave her. Gawking in the eyes of the great monster, regrets do fill me. For I wish I'd have said farewell, that I would've been the one to lay it to rest. Mistaken and unacknowledged for my boys have run home and I haven't told her how much I love her. But who would I be if I gave my prize away... too bad my trophy is nothing but a shell. Marry her and take her home, even if the home's a trip. Marry her and hold her close, the winds don't blow for the rocks. Did you run away with them lads, left me here unadorned?  I did lead them here, in the end, at the end. The world is getting bigger, I'm a lesser part of it. You seem to not abide to this rule, for the love for you keeps you great. So it's me who blindfolds you, darling... the scythe,  the architect.  I am tired, my live. The monster will rot along with m

We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors We'll rant and we'll roar across the salt seas Until we strike soundings in the channel of Old England From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues. Now the first land we made it is called the Deadman Next Ram Head off Plymouth, off Portland the Wight We sailed by Beachy, by Fairlee and Dungeness Till we came abreast of the South Foreland Light We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors We'll rant and we'll roar across the salt seas Until we strike soundings in the channel of Old England From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues Then the signal was made for the grand fleet to anchor All in the Downs that night for to lie Then it's stand by your stoppers, see clear your shank-painters, Haul all your clew garnets, let tacks and sheets fly We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors We'll rant and we'll roar across the salt seas Until we strike

De o parte şi de alta a hipocampusului şobolanilor s-au pus nişte electrozi pentru a stimula hipersecreţia unor hormoni responsabili pentru senzaţia pe care o simţim când spunem "Sunt fericit!" Nimic nou sub soare. Doar că asta înseamnă că fericirea (in forma ei pură, chimică) poate fi fabricată. De fiecare dată când e fericit, se intreabă ce îl motivează. Să păstrezi fericirea... e atât de relativ, nu prea motivează. Probabil pentru că vede fericirea ca pe ceva material, pe care o data ce îl are nu îl poate scăpa. Sau poate nu caută fericirea, ci satisfacţia. Adevărul e ca nici unul din noi nu ştie. Şi poate aici ar trebui să facem o schimbare. Se gândea... "Ştii, până la urma orice bine tot pentru tine îl faci... ca să traieşti Tu sănătos. Motivaţia a fost mereu intrinsecă. Frica de lege, de Dumnezeu, de mâna părintelui, de o viaţă clasificată ca fiind un eşec. De eşec. Oare aici e locul în care specia umană va claca? Oare aici genele noastre descoperă că au apuc

Una dintre ipotezele propuse pentru dispariţia dinozaurilor a fost aceea că la un moment dat genele lor nu s-au mai putut adapta mediului înconjurător. Chit ca nu e ipoteza cea mai acceptată,  e o posibilitate destul de alarmantă. Până la urmă, scopul ADN-ului şi al reproducerii sexuate este să ofere o capacitate de adaptare mai mare (în linii mari în orice caz). Întrebarea vine... ar putea într-o zi mediul înconjurător să se schimbe atât de mult încât să ne întreacă capacitatea de adaptare? Îmi dă fiori gândul... şi poate chiar se întâmplă deja. Not to be overly dramatical here (I apologize for the language change here)... but.. We are considered to be anatomically modern humans... and it makes sense.. but we've been this 'modern' for several millennia now,  not much has changed. And for 98% of that time, it didn't have to.. our environment kind of kept to itself. Then we began to alter it for our own use... the changes were subtle at first but our impact would

Tocmai am citit un pasaj dintr-o carte. Nu vreau sa critic in nici un fel nimic legat de carte sau de autorul ei. Doar ca pasajul m-a lasat putin... uimit, poate confuz. Pasajul in sine mi s-a parut superficial (desi autorul cartii se bucura de o reputatie de om cult si profund, pe care nu am nici un drept sa o contest). Fara sa intru in detalii... pasajul facea uz de o metafora pentru a enunta "ce ar trebuie fiecare parinte sa-si invete copilul". Din nou, fara sa critic sau sa judec... ideile din pasajul respectiv sunt des intalnite (e greu sa vindeci rani, ca bogatii nu sunt neaparat fericiti, fericirea vine din tine etc), iar prima mea reactie a fost de repulsie. Repulsie pentru ca in sinea mea sunt convins ca oricine ar citi cartea va zambi cand va citi pasajul, il va aproba, va intoarce pagina crezand ca niste idei noi si frumoase i-au fost intiparite in subconstient... cand de fapt, autosugestionare. (simt necesar sa subliniez ca nu judec pe nimeni, nu vreau sa criti

Ma afund din ce in ce mai adanc in randurile astea. Pun multe puncte, dar ce spun nu se termina cu punct. Cand uit ca ma strig pe mine, e ca si cand as striga doar ca sa imi dezmortesc plamanii. Ce-i drept, n-au mai strigat de mult ceva cu consistenta, ca o forma fara fond, recicland. Cu coloana vertebrala poti umbla, fara ea te poti doar tari. Si totusi, orice ai face, mergi inainte, absorbind cliseu dupa cliseu.. mereu increzator ca toate incercarile vor da roade. Poate prostitutie intelectuala, poate minte in curs de maturizare... cu multele-i intrebari si frustrari pe masura, lenes si dezinteresat, cu inspiratia-i de moment si ca lectura doar cele doua carti obligat sa le rumege. Anonimat cautand individul. Criticand sarcastic greseli ale altora, expirand un aer de minte deschisa si avida de informatii, sarcasmul fiind felul principal iar empatia si intelegerea... ce as vrea sa spun tacamurile. Si asa cresc artificial, asteptarile despre sine so despre lume, incercand sa urce o

I wish every droplet of a memory would fall just a little heavier. As heavy as it serenely appears, heavier and in depth it shatters along with the scarlet snow. I wish its chord would be struck again, reigniting the ultimate waterfall of tensed muscles and old profound wrinkles in the heavenly loaves of a mask... The little golden harmonica forgot its major scale, it's all about minor problems nowadays. The roots just keep pressuring water, the tree keeps on risin'. Spread yourself, son... but don't spread yourself too far. Still, I enjoy smiling at the sun blasting through the small droplets of evaporated life from the leaves. I couldn't tell either, where i've lost myself... like a branch that had to dodge your thorns, i've grown afar from the trunk... still, it's alright, i can catch more water this way. Distortedly climb your seashell packed heavenway, take the sunny slivers along with you, son, it's enough rainy air at the top already. Don't

In primul rand, scuze ca scriu fara diacritice, chiar ma sacaie, dar imi taie din elan efortul suplimentar, sper sa intelegi. E un fel de blocaj mental. Un zid, o incordare interna, cam asa imi vine sa descriu starea. Cand uiti, iti vine greu sa aplici ce ai invatat, aproape prea greu. Cand parca ai pierdut tot ce ai insemnat de-a lungul timpului, iar oamenii care vin si iti reimprospateaza amintiri impartasite... doar amintesc de tot ce ai pierdut din tine. Nu te mai poti exprima cum o faceai, nu mai pui la fel de mult suflet, caldura adeseori simtita in relationarea cu ceilalti.. dispare. Esti la fel de mult un om ca atunci. Dupa multe episoade psihotice (cred ca folosesc termenii corect) si tulburari la nivel psihic parca lumea e aruncata intr-o alta lumina... nu mai recunosti nimic, totul e in ceata. "Totul" asta, de obicei e folosit ca hiperbola, din cate am citit... dar chiar vreau sa subliniez... totul  (puns). Efortul mental care poate fi depus pare sa se fi dimi

This... is a tribute... an homage. It goes to just one thing. One single concept, one particular idea. Let's call it... "A verb". So... what's a verb? A verb is the sole reason for everything about you. All the motivation, the fear or the lust. A verb is the moments of tragic despair or blind hopefulness. A verb is when you make mistakes, when you remember your first happy memory... or the latest failure. Each and every time you did something noble or depraved... it was a verb. Everytime you wished for anything... a verb. When you judged someone, playing the critic... when you were unable to understand. And hey, when you really wanted to help, when you had your best words and intentions with you.. that was a verb too. Every time when you head a song or read a page that made you smile... as well as every time something in the air made you feel comfortable and secure... when you could smell one specific scent, be it cookies or perfume.. when you've learned your

Dear You, It's very probable that this is the very first letter that I send you. Not that I'd want to start with an apology, but I'm just sorry I haven't acknowledged you sooner... I know you're standing right in front of me... but be it because of ego or emotional wounds... I kinda tend to look the other way. Or maybe it's you who does the same... maybe we're both afraid. No matter the cause, you're really good and gorgeous. You're a human among humans, isn't that enough.. and wether you stood behind paper pages, LCD screens, amongst a crowd, or at a party at a distant table... I just want to say thank you. I know I should be doing it upfront but.. here we are. I don't know if you know me... I don't know how you impacted my life or to what degree... because you have a face in everyone I havw ever met. But, regardless of your appearance, be it teacher, friend or forgotten emphaty... I thank you. You changed me, showed me your worl

"We're here. At last, just the two of us, gazing at the stars. As we should, since they always manage to stand still no matter how hard our head is spinning, and boy did it spin.. I'm almost sad we got here.. But looking at you, all happy to have completed another part of your long trek, after all the counting of days and the sincere effort... how you always wanted to kill me, how you'd lose your mind in whirlwinds...and yet, you never let me go. Violent... that you can cast some peace upon your soul.. at last, we are here. I'm not as skilled as you at drawing conclusions and rising spirits... but then again, my sole purpose is to raise confusion, to blind the spirit and cause pain and strain on the mind... Why did I accompany you, then? I'll try to explain, but you will draw the conclusion on your own after my scent has disappeared. I was a lesson. The target dummy for your playful mind. I wanted you to explore a fight, so that I would carve into you... a