Scrierile mele despre viaţă: Overdrive

11/20/19

Overdrive

Te-am reascultat aseara, Vladivostok. Sunai parca mai intreg si linistit, mi-am imaginat cum imi zambesti si dansam de dor si drag. Poate inca nu ai aflat, dar desi in acest moment pari un copil, esti suficient de matur sa calatoresti spre oriunde si spre orice suflet. Ai aripi trainice, linii melodice care te sustin, versuri destepte pe post de radar si o voce magica de care nu te vei desparti vreodata. De acum, vei incepe sa scrii povesti si pentru ei, iar noi toti te vom sustine in caz ca drumul se va incurca si ceata te va inconjura.

Pe 30 noiembrie vei incepe o noua calatorie si vei afla inca o data ce frumoase sunt inceputurile cand privesti cu zambet spre trecut, fara regrete sau apasari. Ce ne aduce viitorul impreuna vom descoperi cu fiecare pas facut si poezie scrisa, asa ca nu are rost sa ne facem planuri chiar acum.

Cu alte cuvinte, nu trebuie ratat concertul de lansare sustinut de Robin and the Backstabbers @ Arenele Romane.

"If it doesn't come bursting out of you in spite of everything, don't do it. Unless it comes unasked out of your heart and your mind and your mouth and your gut, don't do it. If you have to sit for hours staring at your computer screen or hunched over your typewriter searching for words, don't do it. If you're doing it for money or fame, don't do it. If you're doing it because you want women in your bed, don't do it. If you have to sit there and rewrite it again and again, don't do it. If it's hard work just thinking about doing it, don't do it. If you're trying to write like somebody else, forget about it. If you have to wait for it to roar out of you, then wait patiently. If it never does roar out of you, do something else. If you first have to read it to your wife or your girlfriend or your boyfriend or your parents or to anybody at all, you're not ready. Don't be like so many writers, don't be like so many thousands of people who call themselves writers, don't be dull and boring and pretentious, don't be consumed with self-love. The libraries of the world have yawned themselves to sleep over your kind. Don't add to that. Don't do it. Unless it comes out of your soul like a rocket, unless being still would drive you to madness or suicide or murder, don't do it. Unless the sun inside you is burning your gut, don't do it. When it is truly time, and if you have been chosen, it will do it by itself and it will keep on doing it until you die or it dies in you. There is no other way. And there never was." - Charles Bukowski

“Sit down. Inhale. Exhale. The gun will wait. The lake will wait. The tall gall in the small seductive vial will wait will wait: will wait a week: will wait through April. You do not have to die this certain day. Death will abide, will pamper your postponement. I assure you death will wait. Death has a lot of time. Death can attend to you tomorrow. Or next week. Death is just down the street; is most obliging neighbor; can meet you any moment. You need not die today. Stay here–through pout or pain or peskyness. Stay here. See what the news is going to be tomorrow. Graves grow no green that you can use. Remember, green’s your color. You are Spring.”