Back to business

 

Hi, guys!

It's been a really long time since I last posted here, but a lot of things have happened in the meantime. CRUX came out on January 18th and it's available on Amazon, Nook, Kobo and on many other websites, in e-book and paperback formats. Also, on February 9th, Deea and I organized a little event we called a "book launch", though it was more like a book presentation for the Romanian readers. We chose a pub (and not a local book store as it's usually done), and I thought it would be awesome to do  a screening of the book trailer.

 

Deea & I

As you might have noticed, there are other people who worked on this and whom, I am proud and happy, to call family and to have had at the book event: Oly Saldinger and Vladimir Belciug. Oly has handled the video and music editing, while Vlad is the voice of Maar in the trailer. I am also thankful and definitely owe George Calin (Deep Central) for lending his help and studio, and provided us with a professional voice recording - an awesome man! Sadly, our distant family, Andrei Marc - the book cover designer and trailer drawing artist - could not be with us, but I'll make sure he will be there for the sequel.

 

With Vlad (center) & Oly (right)

Last but not least, I want to thank WheelMan Press for turning this project into reality and for their constant support and good advice. Currently, the guys at WheelMan are working on formatting the first CRUX intro story and adding it to the retailers pages. This first episode is called Magic & Madness and it is part of the trilogy that I hope will ease the reader's way into the novel; the stories will be available for FREE and, while the first one will soon be up on the internet, I am half-way through the second and really pleased with the outcome.

At the moment, I am back on my "day job", on the same ship in the same ports of the Caribbean, but taking care of other tasks than last time. I hope I can balance my writing and my duties, and finish HELLBENT before I come back home. Sadly, I realize now that I should have worked more when I was there, but... no point crying over it now. Will try to keep you up to date on the progress and hope this little presentation convinced you to give CRUX a try. It's only 2$ for the e-book version and, if you consider the opinions on Goodreads (and not just take my word on it), it's definitely worth reading!

That's it for me, for now. Oh! Almost forgot: if you're curious about what else I can write, there's a feature of me on Catherine Garnell's blog. I should start working on the rest of that story, shouldn't I? Alright, people! Talk to you soon!

Rockstar

I'm not done. Just really tired and busy. Plus, if Windows crashed on you 3 times in one week, you'd be reluctant about press releases too. I'll be back soon, but until then, let's mix it up - here's an old poem I wrote (2 months before Nickelback's song came out):

I’m a rockstar.
I’ve got the looks, the moves,
The clothes and the words.
I am as real as you can feel
And when I’m not… well, my dear…
You can cut that part out.
I’ve got sincere pain, though I only play insane.
It’s not my own game, but the gain…
Big bucks for Friday Rocks…
And, from time to time, a dime… in the jukebox.
Yeah… that sucks!
Girls who know how to curl,
Who know how to purr…!
…Girls with fake pearls who make me hurl.
And the publicity…
Toxicity! Addictive, subjective…
You end up sumissive! Because your sadness, your madnes,
Your flaws and booty calls,
Your money and Playboy bunny,
Your weak-spots and the fuckin’ bikini with polka dots
Are on TV. And then… you become me!
…See? I really do have the face, the pace...
The attitude and necessary altitude
To crash, bash and smash, dude!

I fancy myself better than you.
I’m not 2-in-1, I’m 2002. I don’t act, I do.
The rules I set are like laws.

All respect, protect and the ones who object…
Well, it seems only fair to declare that they lack the passion
The spark, the mark… They’re out of fashion. They’re into the dark.
Rabble… who babble.
I am a belief. I am relief.
Even in grief, brief, you’ll admit…
That I talk the talk and walk the walk. I’m a perfect fit.
I’m a god. I’m pure as a rose-bud though I bathe in mud.
I set the trend, I twist and I bend what you are, my friend…
You pay, you say “somehow, someday…”. You’re as soft as clay!
But hey, I don’t mind. I find it quite nice…
Just another vice:
…I’m the only man among spineless mice!
I’m disgusted, I’m tired! You’re fuckin’ fired!
You slave! You dreamt…?! You aspired?!
Rat! Fat asshole, devouring routine, burning gasoline,
Useless drama queen! You lack free will, you can’t feel!
What’s real is just the hate for your job where you sob about the bitchin’ of your boss called Bob.
Hate for your bills, drills and aching pills! For your wife, your kids and your rented car!
Oh, sorry… Did I go to far?

Fuck you! ...I’m a rockstar.

Words, drugs & beautiful people!

...Got your attention now, right?

In case you've been wondering (and I hope that you have!) what I've been doing in the past few days and why the regular 24/48 hours posts haven't popped up like usually, then I have a pretty good excuse: I've been correcting, writing and rearranging Crux! 

After three weeks of waiting for a miracle to happen -dirty look to Deea - I finally realized that there's nobody in the world who can actually do this job for me. Even if I had left the book with my agent / manager for one more year, the results would have still been less than satisfying. And I'm not saying this with reproach (though she could have tugged on my collar about it), but as an objective statement; It as silly of me to think that she, or anyone else for that matter, could see exactly what I was going for and implement it perfectly. It was absurd!

So I rolled up my sleeves and started working. Must say: it was no easy feat going through over 165 A4 pages and it took me more than 12 hours, 4 cups of coffee and 2 packs of cigarettes, to read it thoroughly and correct to oh-so-many mistakes. Even now, after reading the whole novel word by word, rephrasing, adjusting the grammar discrepancies, even adding a couple more pages (remember the Adam / Athos issue I had earlier on? it seems there WERE a few pieces of text missing after all), I'm not convinced it's good enough to be published in this form. What I do know is that THIS is my final draft and there is nothing more I feel I need to add or modify before a professional looks it over. 

The sad part about it is that I haven't yet had the pleasure of reading my own story as if it wasn't mine and discovering it through the eyes of a new reader. I did enjoy writing it and, I have to admit, I didn't mind correcting it as much as I had originally thought... But if I have to read again "Kara fell..." (which are the first 2 words in the book), I'm going to scream!

Honestly, at this point, I can't say anything about Crux that would impress you. Deea still loves it for some reason (probably because she hasn't really read the book more than a dozen times like yours truly), but for me it's just a nice story, a bit funny, a bit scary, ending with in happy note. Ironically, the thing that attracts more, the many action-packed moments, seem... not so captivating to me anymore. But don't mistake my little apathy crisis for anything else: this is just a case of an author being saturated with reading his own book. No matter how less enthusiastic I may be about the events that transpire in this novel, I am still very much in love with the storyline, the concept and, most of all, the characters! I know Deea has a favorite, but for me, it's hard to choose between my 'children'.

Bottom line: the manuscript is corrected and, furthermore, REGISTERED (finally!) for copyrights!

It has just dawned upon me, right this instant, that I haven't thanked here a very talented writer, and an old writing partner and friend, for her awesome contribution to the book and to my own development as an author. So, officially, from the bottom of my heart, thank you my dear Swan Klenke!

 (Alexis Huntington-Gates - alternative version)

Swan and I have been writing together for years in the R.P. story section on the Darkness forums and we originally created the characters of Thomas Gates and Alexis Huntington. I've always loved pairing up with her because her artistic style is completing my rough & tough way of twisting a story; Lexi is her 'baby' and I've tried to stay within the borders and shape Swan had originally designed when I introduced her in Crux, coloring the character from my own perspective and making her interact the way I thought my friend would want her to. I'm deeply thankful to Swan for letting me use her character because the story of Thomas and Lexi is really awesome! There is drama, romance and a certain degree of macabre in the way they met and fell in love, and none of that Twilight fake teenage angst crap that's been poisoning the literary world in the last few years! If we are ever going to write a book together, like we discussed three years ago, I believe that this is the story we would focus on. If you are interested about how Thomas and Lexi came to be, you can read about it in Nocturnal Shine, a story started by Kaddam, featuring Straife (also an awesome storytelling partner!) that hasn't been finished, but which we might pick back up at some point in our busy lives.

That's it for today! Cheers, Angellovers!

Writer's Lament

There's really no plan. My week is pretty decent so far- another 2 days at anchor, giving me time to relax and prepare for the trip to Tampa, are more than welcomed. Yet I feel generally bored and I'm in no mood for writing. Since Deea took some time to solve her personal issues, the best way to picture me is staring dumbly at the screen with neither the ideas nor the mood to do anything. She did manage to find us the good-hearted Vlad Muresan, who's willing to lend his talents and help out with the website, but now I have to explain to him the crazy ideas I had for its layout and functions by e-mail. I don't know what's more scary: telling him that my vision involves separate coding or actually seeing this site up and running...

What got me down in the gutters wasn't Deea's need for a break though. Not entirely anyway. It was mostly the stats - I masochistically check the blog's views every day. At least two times. And falling from 81 views (Friday) to 25 (yesterday) can get a person to lose faith. Furthermore, I got beaten by my old blog with 52 and 51 views in the last couple of days... A blog that hasn't been updated since Christmas. Ain't that something?

I realized people hate reading. Post a picture of a dog on Facebook and you get 2 shares and 10 likes, but link a text and they are gone, running faster than a vampire at sunrise. God forbid you use English! As a decent and frequent user of the English language, I noticed that more than once people avoid me or just scold me, labeling me a snob. I'm sorry, but do any of you know how hard it is to write about a car chase in Romanian and make it sound exciting? I believe Eddie Izzard had a bit about writing about a car chase; he thought it can't be as thrilling as a movie scene. True, though it depends on how good the director is. Same with books: if you know what details to focus on, you can make everything exciting!

What I'm getting at is that people shouldn't be so quick to write off writings. Pun intended. I'm a huge movie lover and I did my fair share of objective and argumentative criticism regarding a few of Hollywood's productions. But, at the same time, I can honestly say that there is no form of art that allows such freedoms as those granted by writing. A film has a limited time line in which it must capture the important details, whereas a book can go on for as long as it's necessary. Of course, I don't encourage the Proustian style of never-ending descriptions, I'm just saying you have that option!

Oftentimes I've heard the words "I don't like reading". Or, in the past few years, the trendy "I'm not a professor to speak perfect Romanian / English". Since when exactly do you need a teaching diploma to speak and write correctly in your native tongue? I believe it's every man's duty to do that! My Romanian article was about patriotism and the pride one should express about one's nationality. Aside the fact that the concept is idiotic, as you can't be proud of a coincidence, shouldn't we express said patriotism FIRSTLY by showing respect towards our own language? Shouldn't we honor our heritage with this minimal effort?

I speak Romanian, English, Italian. I understand and can speak common French phrases, basic Spanish and a little German. Never have I claimed that everybody should share my talent and love for linguistics, but I can't comprehend this common aversion towards reading, writing and most importantly SPEAKING correctly. Books are not your enemy, folks! Open one - it won't bite!

My 2-hour weekend

For the first time in a very long time I managed to do everything I had planned. And more! Sunday started pretty grim, but as the saying goes, things aren’t always as bad as they seem.

First, I had a chat with Deea as soon as she jumped on Facebook, still sleepy and not entirely coherent, but enough to make me feel like a dumbass. What looked like a novel missing a chunk of text turned out to be a mistake on the behalf of yours truly: the text was there, but while I searched for one of the characters using a certain name (and found nothing), it didn’t occur to me that the name might not be the right one to begin with. In fact, it wasn’t the wrong one either; when I introduced this character I was thinking about naming him Adam, but I went with Athos and forgot about it. The moment when I had to use him again, I could clearly remember that his name was Adam. Of course, before this point, Crux had no reference of the name Adam to throw at me… So I guess that’s good news! No extra stories to be added and I can still claim that the novel is finished!

More good news came a couple of hours later, when my inbox suddenly received a new message from Webs.com. And then another. And another...

The first made me laugh because, after submitting a message to their help center, I got back this little gem of a reply, telling me to try all the idiotically simple and logical steps I had already tried! Such as re-typing my password or making sure the spelling of my username / e-mail address is correct. …I know there are a lot of cretins with internet access, but seriously? That’s your advice? Oh, such valuable tips! And, on top of it all, the message ended in “and if you still can’t access your account, reply to this e-mail with the details!”. I spent 10 minutes writing in detail that I had already tried all the steps and your solution ends with “Give us the information AGAIN“?! Who is managing this company anyway? Monkeys?

The second and third messages came at the same time. And they were the same: Welcome to Webs.com! Please click the link to verify your account! …Now, I may be exhausted but I’m not a complete imbecile. Wasn’t I supposed to receive that e-mail… hmmm… let’s say… 4 days ago!? When I actually signed up for this stupid free server and hosting? And furthermore, why in the hell would you send me 2 identical messages out of which only one confirmed my authenticity while the other just told me “ERROR! Check your account settings!”. Oh, you mean the account I can’t access. Sure, I’m on it!

Overall, however, I did manage to validate asociety.webs.com and log in. Which means that tomorrow I will be correcting the awful mistakes in those texts. I do speed writing when I’m inspired and, as it seems, my hands / brain coordination isn’t so great…

But let me get back to my initial thought which was: BEACH DAY! Yes, I went out on deck; changed into some raggedy clothes and flip-flops, with Pratchett’s book, my camera and a can of beer I found in the cabin when I moved in. I was inspired enough to grab my backpack which served me well as a pillow and some ice cubes from the fridge in a bag (because the beer was warm), I went forward and just enjoyed 2 hours before the sun set. The air and weather are fantastic here, and I was actually happy I couldn’t smoke (‘cause we’re still fully loaded with 8000 m3 of gasoline and the next thing you’d probably have read about me would have been my obituary).

I went through 50 pages only because I was enjoying myself too much. Nothing but the waves and the breeze and quality literature. I’m only a tad frustrated that I couldn’t find Reaper Man in English because the Romanian version is hilarious! I can only imagine that the original is hysterical; I own a copy in electronic format but it’s just not the same as a paperback.

To conclude, I’m really glad I actually forced myself out of my room. Normally I wouldn’t step outside unless we are entering or leaving a port, but it was about time that I felt the sun on my skin again. Thought of the day? Must do this again!

And more!

I guess it’s been an interesting day and that makes it alright to mention in this wannabe journal. First off, I need to say sorry in advance for the lack of regular cynical nuances and sprinkles of irony – I haven’t had a cigarette in 10 hours and I’m exactly in that mood, when even breath seems to activate the entire muscular system. I don’t think I want to quit (I certainly am not using sheer willpower to keep from inhaling that wonderful tobacco scented poison - we just ran out), mostly because it is a fact that the nicotine stimulates the brain and mine is certainly used with a lot of traffic up there. You wouldn’t want to live in my head, I tell you that – the number of reality trucks colliding with motorcycle-riding ideas is off the charts. Alas, I’m used to it and I don’t think it’s a proper time to stop feeding the beast, especially since the work on Crux is going so well. Until we receive provisions, I’ll just run in test drive mode. See how it works out…

And so far it sucks, ‘cause I actually wanted to discuss something else. Yes, discuss. I hate to do that!  Every time I ask for opinions, intellectual contributions or even votes, everyone clamps their mouth and goes “I’m too busy, let someone else do it”. Oh, exaggerating, am I? Just scroll down and look for comments. At over 1000 views I have… what? 10 comments?

But I’m digressing again and God, I wish I had a cigarette ‘cause I know the idea’s worth dissecting, but without that coffin nail I just can’t get it right… At any rate, the topic for today is: chance! Well, let’s just call it risk. Well, let’s not… I’m trying to figure out a way to describe the thing that I’m speaking of in one word, but it’s pretty much impossible; there’s no term for this kind of thing, it just refers to how far are you willing to go on a sentimental hunch. How much would you risk for love or, better yet, the chance of love? No! Don’t you frown at me! This is not some emo crap, it’s just a scientific curiosity I need satisfied. Yes, I said “satisfied”, you may giggle now.

Point is: I had a dream recently. And yes, as a matter of fact, it was one of those dreams. And yet, it wasn’t! Due to unstable parameters in my “before bed” mood, caused by high levels or stress, caffeine and (the truly mourned) nicotine excess, even my wet dreams seem to dry up. To sum it up, nothing actually happened in my dream; every time I could see a patch of naked skin, some problem appeared out of nowhere, I and the lovely lady being forced to postpone. So… after about 5 times, running around in an insane environment I won’t even mention (yes, it is that disturbing… unless you consider that living in a factory and having a bloody of a bombardier WWII aircraft as a bridge between the living room and bedroom is normal), I woke up really… frustrated. Now, now, don’t jump to conclusions – I really was frustrated because the thought of me and that certain person didn’t cross my mind (that much). Anyway, I honestly didn’t think about this person in that particular way because there was no point in fucking up both our sentimental lives, which are already pretty fucked up… I know how I get when the basic idea of falling in love just flashes in front of my eyes and I decided not to go there, for the sake of my mental health and the tiny people roasting marshmallows around it every Wednesday night.

So all in all, I had no choice but to chew on this gem of a thought for an entire day. Oh, I know I don’t have the guts to actually pursue a relationship, because of my trust and commitment issues, but mostly because, while being an asshole, I’m not a douche. But I wonder what you would do and that was the main idea:

If you suddenly realized that you may have some really serious feelings for a person in your life, a friend, old or new, an old flame, a person you disliked for a long time, your boyfriend’s best friend, your best friend’s girlfriend, generally someone who is very bad for you (and vice versa) ‘cause of various reasons, would you still give that relationship a shot?

Like I said, I’m not going to do it. Poor girl’s got enough issues of her own and, as Deea recently underlined, I have the habit of attracting all the wrong girls: damaged, emotionally scared and needy. Not sure she’s one of them, but pretty sure she would be after I drive by. I want your thoughts on this one though; would you do it?

The reason why I asked that question is ‘cause I think that basically people are all the same. Following the same rules, having the same agenda, just because nature says so. I saw maybe one hundred people on Neogen (something like Facebook - if you’re not Romanian - but a lot worse) who are desperately still looking for love, even though they are 30, 40, 50 etc. They’re either incredibly stupid (which is a strong possibility), either they have enough experience to know that being with somebody is worth a shot, even if your life is almost ending and your string of lovers is a necklace of pain. I don’t know… Normally, I think that all people are evil bastards who only think of themselves, but, in person, I always give them the benefit of doubt. Many a time I discovered that apparent cunts may actually be really nice people who can act rather honourably, while honey-tongued bitches end up backstabbing you as soon as the possibility arises. What I’m saying is that maybe people aren’t so stupid… No, that’s not true, people are fucking retarded. What I’m really saying is that even though most should wear an orange vest, helmet and a safety harness, maybe nature still whispers some survival tricks in their ears and this… hope that they manifest is one of them.

Enough for now. Got a ship position to fix and cigarettes to lament about.

Something something

I was thinking - because there’s not much else to do at 2 in the morning – about how typically twisted life can be. When we try to describe ourselves, we do it by comparison to others and for me that resulted in some unique conclusions. Normally, people live in society, with relatives, spouses, friends, lovers and sometimes with the complicated, desired and really weird fuck pals. They wake up in the morning, have a cup of coffee while planning the day’s work schedule, or just go over it again. They do their jobs, while smiling a fake smile at a rival workmate, or gossiping on a cigarette break about the secretary, or just lash out, under the influence of the mornings’ coffee (in this case to be read “beer”), and hit a colleague over the kneecap with a shovel (which is a completely valid hypothesis providing we are talking about construction workers). Normal people get off work, have a drink in a bar, pick up groceries on the way back, tidy up their place, take a shower, have dinner and go to bed. Some of the less normal probably, at that time of night, just sit around and daydream (or is it eveningdream), or just puff a second puff and pass, as the rule says, and contemplate their fucked up lives with their fucked up dramas and their probably fucked up futures, which is none of their fucked up fault (and it’s not). They all share the common trait of being social creatures though; as said, involved in constant interaction with their relatives, spouses, friends and so forth.

I don’t, period. While I’m an arrogant bastard who’s too smug to admit failure, I completely suck at that. Perhaps it’s the fact that I’ve always felt there is more to life than just following conventions. In reality, I follow them when I have to, though I completely loathe calling someone on their birthday and wishing them all that shit the rest of their 101 acquaintances have already wished them before me every single damn year (unless they are 1 and they don’t really give a fuck anyway). But I don’t do social if I don’t have to. If there would be a command button for sex, I’d hardly bother nodding at girls, even though, ironically, the vast majority of my friends consists of female characters. Some may think I am wrong for, as past tells us, I’m usually the center in a social gathering… Which makes me point out, again and so soon, that most of my friends are women.

I mostly hate other men. They’re dumb and plain and posses the insight of a brick wall and the subtlety of a rhino in a porcelain store and the attention span of a squirrel on crack. They’re twice as gossipy and scorned as women, and I rather discuss PMS than spend 5 minutes in the company of 2 football fans. I always felt odd around them, which is why, for a very short period of time, I started wondering if I might be gay. I’m not, in case you were wondering too. But I think that if I was, I’d be excellent at it. Do you know other guys who can dismantle a woman’s wardrobe and discuss the fine details of a chocolate cake? I didn’t think so…

But this is what attracts about me. Why girls may suddenly levitate around my presence, inexplicably attracted by a gravitational field of Interesting. I’m insecure, lonely and shy. Deep down inside anyway. I buried those attributes when I discovered that women don’t really find that appealing. Instead they like being told they look fat in that dress, they admire the mastering of the crafty art of being a jerk and they rather enjoy the company of someone who just doesn’t care. Which is exactly the opposite of what they want. No, I am not picking on women – I rather think they’re wonderful creatures, insane (and so I can relate), who could very much turn the world into Heaven then burn it down to ashes in mere seconds after. I like women ‘cause they’re complicated and challenging and very hard to stay friends with.

And I find myself digressing and not really aware of what I wanted to point out with this piece. There was a small paragraph in my mind (because, yes, I did mind spoke it before I started typing) about the reason of my being arrogant and using words like flamboyant and showing off (which is precisely why I would use words like flamboyant). What you may take from this monologue is that Terry Pratchett is one of the most amazing writers of our times and you should definitely look up his books. He is made of pure awesome just like Brad Pitt in Troy, though the movie generally sucked and Orlando Bloom gayed out the whole experience (almost as much as Twilight did to the entire planet).

Another point would be that, while I do follow a basic set of self-taught rules about social events and can’t quite be my regular word-fumbling me, I do miss my friends. I go to bed scared and wake up terrified and the only thing I can imagine is the people I care about barely remembering me during a day’s length because they most likely have more important things to consider. Like paying rent for example or feeding the cat. I have nightmares constantly and wake up in cold sweat, which isn’t such a lovely experience, and can’t help but wonder why the hell I’m traumatizing myself like this. Granted, I do swallow about 4 cups of coffee a day and write for hours when I should pay more attention to the job, but, as previously mentioned, life is so typically twisted (just because it can).

I sit by the computer, port side of the bridge, and glance once in a while at Ajaccio, which is a beautiful port in Corse. Of course, port side means left side, and bridge means navigation deck, and Corse is Corsica for the uneducated. I’ve got a splitting headache and am down to the 20^th coffin nail and 2^nd cup of coffee, and ponder in horror the fact that, in the morning, we will berth for discharge. I wonder about the irony of being pro nature while carrying and handling fuel that releases plenty carbon monoxide when burned. And doing a job that mainly involves paper which, in many a case, is thrown in the waste bin just because shipping companies don’t want to develop an electronic system that would make everyone’s life better. But mostly I just wish I’d align all those assholes who think my job’s romantic and great and the “you get to see the fucking world!”, and kick their intestines up their necks. Yes, I did say I’m coping with the whole deal but I already miss home and I’m rather pissed ‘cause I can’t make any phone calls and I didn’t pack enough t-shirts and pray I will not lose my mind completely before the end of December, Amen.

Ironic

Today my mom came to me and said I should remove the offensive "comment" I put on the internet about that famous fight we had some weeks back. Of course, I denied the existence of any offensive comment, as I don't consider I've done anything bad. Or, to be honest, posted anything worse than whatever I've been told, time and again, by said family members. Fact is, if I should actually write about all the humiliating words thrown at me, all the insults with which I've been jabbed, and the whole condescending, arrogant, slave-driver behavior I've been treated with throughout my teenage period, THEN my next of kin should be entitled to worry. 

You probably wonder how my mother actually got the news about my posting. Well, I didn't even had to ponder, not just because she gave me the answer, but because I already know who's always blabbing about my life, shining down a bad light on my actions. I won't name that person, but I know he's reading my stuff and reporting back to certain people who then have reason to piss all over my parade. Yes, I know, and he's been doing this shit for years, for whatever reasons I won't mention. He should know by now that I'm a pretty smart fucker, if not streetwise like himself, and I have the means to fucking bury his ass if he keeps up with this crap. I am willing, however, to consider the possibility of him being a gossipy bitch who can't refrain from spraying dirt all over. So, for now, I'll cut him some slack, hoping he will be so kind as to remove me from his list of subjects to talk about, before I run his ass over with my car.

It's ironic. And very much so, considering this whole blog was meant to firstly promote a book project about the jerk stereotype who pokes in other people's business. It's sad 'cause the people who should be closest to you, supporting you, especially during rough patches, actually try to harm you or bring you down. In all honesty, I've got used to this, so I'm not surprised by this kind of betrayal. That doesn't mean, however, that I will accept this forever. You want me to change? To be normal? Guess what! NOT GOING TO HAPPEN! So either shape up, accept this, or get the fuck out of my life! 

P.S. I really wanted to apologize for the rude terms used in Level Cap. I'm sorry that I've been so radical and barbaric in expressing myself. So I'll take the upper ground and say I regret said words. Hopefully, this public apology will mend a little the situation.

Vulgar, Hating... & Loving It

I don't make love. I fuck. And I fuck with passion, in a feral manner, while my mind explodes with chemical reactions and drives me so wild I can barely refrain from tearing the woman apart. I bite, I claw, I ravage my partner's body until she's exhausted. I love, I fuck, I write and I hate with pathos. I -am-, you can safely say so, in a love-hate relationship with myself. There are many things I adore, that they turn me completely around. Psychologically speaking. Because there's no such thing as a mad scientist; we're all mad. So hatred... Yes. Just like love, there are so many things I honestly hate. And countless more people... What's good for? Keeping me... ME. Making me feel alive and different and, most of all, FREE. I'm not part of the mass, I don't wear those tiny ridiculous socks or those gay summer hats, nor do I drive a German car, nor do I party in those infectiously imbecilic clubs. I am being myself and hatred plays its' part. It's said that such a feeling doesn't help anyone. False. It does, even if to keep me shaped as a unique human being, apart, and damn gorgeous in my own way.

Level Cap

I had a most horrible day today, ladies and gentlemen. Yes, it finally came to the point of no return, when I had to state out loud "I AM A FUCKING ADULT! SHOW ME SOME RESPECT, YOU ASSHOLES!"... to my family. Of course, writing this bloody thing here would be perceived as yet another mistake, as all the stupid crappy things in my life, but... piss off, I don't care, I have the RIGHT to do as I please!

It all started with the fact that I spend an enormous amount of time in front of this demonic machine and that I smoke around... 30 cigarettes / day, and this for the past 3-4 weeks. In all fairness, I completely agreed! And still do! Yes, I do love these excesses and I will never deny they aren't healthy! BUT!...

Part two of this wonderful little folk tale involves the fact that, since day one of my World of Warcraft / cigarette marathon, I've been hearing three times a day "You're smoking too much! You're spending too much time with that game!". NO SHIT! 

Now... From the people who do know me and can truly answer this question, I am asking to post an answer to the following questions: 

Am I a fucking retard who completely misses the point of a discussion and, as a smoker, for the past 11 years, is so bloody imbecilic as to not notice all the "SMOKING IS BAD FOR YOU!" warnings? 

Am I so outlandish to believe that spending so much time in front of the PC is NOT bad for me?

Am I such an ASSHOLE and a RUDE person, and treat my mother and my family like shit?

...I don't actually need the answers, because I know. I've tried everything in my power to make these MORONS! understand that I know all of these dangers, that I appreciate their interest and good intentions, that I respect them and their decisions, but they need to treat me as an adult, and they too have to respect my wishes. Two words:

EPIC FAIL!

And such, with all the love and heartache involved in this useless, pointless, inane, childish, in this ego warfare, I swear that I will, to my best ability, try to move the hell out of the house. It is logical that after a certain age, children and parents cannot coexist; I've tried to make it work, though aware of this truth, but it is simply impossible. Thus, with all regrets to my esteemed uncle and my loving mother, who completely MISSED the goddamn point, I QUIT! 

My friends, who I hope still care for me enough to give a damn about this, should be happy to learn that I am planning to move to Bucharest. Yes, you will finally get me there, to completely abuse and take advantage of. ...And also be on the other side of the phone when you're in a "booty call"-ish mood. Yeah, I said it, you horny sluts! You know you want me. ;)

With that said... Sorry for washing my dirty jockstrap in public, but I just had to vent. I've been arguing with ROCKS for half a day and... just thought maybe some of you would and could relate. Love y'all! Thanks for reading my blog and thanks for supporting my utopian dreams! Peace.