PART 1

PART 1

The doorbell rang and Sam walked up to it in a lazy mood, still searching with his eyes the line he skipped in an old occult book. The hunter opened the door slowly, failing to see who was waiting in the doorway. “Howdy neighbor!” A wild haired and energetic girl greeted him with a smile “I’m new in town, thought you might need some sugar” she pushed a bowl full of sugar in Sam’s arms, which made him drop the book and avalanched inside the house. In matters of moments her face went from cheery to worried and vigilant, not to mention that the excuse for visiting was completely faux. She marched in a heartbeat at the bottom of the stairs flew open her coat and drew out a shotgun. Sam dropped the sugar bowl which shuddered into thousands of crystals, and drew out his own gun from the belt, but the redhead that invaded his home didn’t bother to even look at him, but ran up the stairs, she was clearly not going to aim at him with that thing so Sam ran up the stairs himself.

“Take a friendly advice mister and stay back, I’ll explain everything later.” She loaded up her gun, two red shells, she backed up as far as she could and broke down the door to the attic running up another set of stairs. The girl clearly knew something about something, when she broke down the door the little bag hanging from her belt broke of as well and it was leaving a trail of salt all the way up to the attic.

One shot. Sam climbed the stairs himself. The second shot was not far away. When he arrived at the top the girl was holding a man on the floor, face down in a navy seal kind of way and chanting an exorcism. The demon screamed and was immediately flushed away from its host, the black smoke passing a mesmerized Sam and vanishing into thin air.

The girl loosened the grip and checked for a pulse, then, when she found it, dropped the man, limp on the floor. She stood up to her feet but saw the pistol in Sam’s hand and raised her hands, shotgun and all. “Look man, I just saved your life” She began excusing her actions, probably already fed up with non believers, especially the ones that choose to say “That’s impossible” over and over again even though they’ve been there when it happened. But Sam’s eyes squinted and he cut her off “You’re a hunter?!”

The affirmation came out more like a question and the stranger felt the need to answer “Yes. How…?”

She began to question the possibility of a civilian knowing about hunters but she stopped. “Fellow hunter I presume?”

Sam cocked his head, should he trust her? I mean she did just barge in his house, but she also saved him a lot of trouble with that demon.

“What the hell…” Dean walked in, provoked by the shootings. His eyes were swollen and his hair messed up , he had been woken from his beauty sleep, it was only natural for him to be cranky, but the moment he saw the girl every bad boy sense in him kicked in and he was awake and fresh again “Well hello there.”

“She’s a hunter, she just exorcized a demon, with bare hands” Sam put him up to date. The girl was standing in the middle of the attic, hands up and starring at the two brothers. Dean’s eyebrows rose, that was a lot to take in, in his state.

He leaned over to his brother and whispered “And she’s keeping her hands up, why?”

The girl realized that just then and dropped her hands, Sam jerked his gun and she threw hers on the floor with a loud thump. Sam and Dean measured her up and down for a while and eventually Sam spoke “I’m Sam, this is Dean, we’re brothers, raised in the business.”

The girl exhaled a lung full of air and cursed in a strange language. “There’s no way this is possible. You’re Sam and Dean, THE Sam and Dean that stopped what couldn’t be stopped.” The two brothers looked at each other and then at the girl in front of them. Well wasn’t she a know-it-all? Also she couldn’t have been older than 23, she wore a pair of washed up and ripped up jeans, a gray t-shirt and a black leather jacket. Dean contemplated for a while at her skin peeping thru the cuts in her jeans, it was milky white, her dark red hair was disheveled and matching perfectly with her green eyes. She smiled when she realized what Dean was doing and her red lips brightened her face. Dean snapped out of it and answered: “Well sugar, we broke it, we had to fix it.” He said, with confidence.

“Well you kind of did a piss poor job, ripping the script and burning the pages. I heard there’s anarchy upstairs; angels running around, wavering their hands in the air, having no clue what to do next.” She laughed at the image in her head but Sam and Dean didn’t feel like laughing. She knew much more than she let them to believe and that usually wasn’t a good thing.

“I’m sorry” started Sam “I didn’t catch your name?!” he asked wondering if the beautiful hunter in front of him was an ally or another enemy.

“That’s because I didn’t say it yet. It’s Alice.” She extended out her hand, stepped over the shotgun, laying on the floor and approached Sam. He shook her hand and she moved on to Dean. He huffed and giggled and delivered some cheesy pick up line that, naturally, didn’t work.

“I know everybody has a lot of questions but, later, Ok? Where’s the angel Castiel, I have something for him.” Alice removed her back pack and started rummaging thru it but the boys didn’t sketch any gesture, Sam looked down at his feet and Dean frowned and swallowed the knot in his throat. The wounds of betrayal that Cas left behind were still fresh, and every memory of him was like salt on flesh.

When she didn’t receive any answer Alice looked up from inside her backpack to see the two brothers looking odd and sad. She raised her eyebrows questioning the silence. “Well?”

Sam was putting together a speech in his head explaining everything that had happened but Dean cut him off ever before he opened his mouth. “He’s dead.” Dean said sounding angry, he turned around and went rushing down the stairs. When he arrived at the bottom he punched the wall in front of him. From the attic Sam knew what the loud thump was even though he couldn’t see what happened, he closed his eyes and sighed. His brother was taking the loss of the angel pretty rough.

All this time Alice stood there with a smirk on her face, half confused half shocked. Sam opened his eyes and took a step in the girl’s direction. “He’s telling the truth.” Sam summarized the last whereabouts of Cas before he disappeared in the water.

“That’s impossible” She said at the end, going thru her back pack once again.

Sam was ready to maintain his story and he had strong arguments as well, after all he was a witness to the whole thing but before he’d say anything Alice pulled out two angel blades from under the clothes that made mostly the object of her backpack. “See?” She asked, wide eyed, smile on her face.

Sam had no clue to what was going on but to have two angel blades that was unsettling. He looked at her with one eyebrow raised.

“You say you know something about something and you don’t know about the blade of angels?” she asked amused.

“Of course I know what those are; I just don’t see how that proves that Cas is alive.” Sam snapped. She was being a smart ass and not at all helpful.

Alice sighed, placed the blades in Sam’s lap and said: “A blade does not survive without its keeper.” She raised one of the blades up to Sam’s eyes and turned it around so he could see the engravings. Dead and mend one of those things once and he saw it on Cas for so many times but not in that much detail. The handle was engraved, every inch of it, in Enochian symbols. “It’s the story of how the warrior became an angel. The thing with the blade is that it has the same fate as its master. If the warrior dies the sword shutters.” She paused pondering for a while but continued looking up at Dean who was leaning against the railing, arms folded on his chest. “If the warrior betrays, the blade turns black and also against its keeper.” Dean’s body relaxed, he dropped his arm alongside his body, his jaw dropped and his eyes filled with tears. Cas didn’t die because of an angel blade, he disintegrated in water.

“Wait!” Sam demanded. “You’re telling me that one of this blade thingies it’s Cass’ and that he’s not dead, because the damn thing is still in one piece?”

Alice looked at him confidence in her glance.

“That’s Lord of the Rings gibberish, where do you think you are? Hogwarts?” He rose to his feet, and dragged Alice up as well by her arm. “Enough of this bull crap. Tell me who you are.”

Daca ajungi la timp, n-ai cum sa pierzi trenul.

Tanti de la bilete s-a jurat cu mana pe inima si scuipat in san plus matanii la biserica si promisiunea ca are inside-uri de la Sefu’ ca trenul o sa aibe o intarziere fenomenal de plictisitoare de cel putin o ora, asadar, in loc de ora 6:05 trenul era mai mult ca sigur destinat sa ajunga in gara undeva in jurul orei 7. Prin urmare, l-am trezit pe tata, care insistaze cu o seara in urma sa ma conduca el la gara, pe la ora 5 si 10 uitand faptul ca el este ceea ce se numeste in popor “mireasa” si ca-I ia o ora jumate numai sa-si bea cafeaua, perioada in care se trezeste si inca doua secole si patruj’ de ani sa intre si apoi sa iasa din baie.

Prin urmare plecare spre gara s-a facut la ora 5 si 45 de minute. Am prins, asa cum e legitim si confirmat de fiecare lege a lui Murphy, absolut toate semafoarele pe culoarea rosie incepand cu Barbu Vacarescu tot drumul pana la gara. La ora sase punct am tras in fata garii, parcare insotita de un telefon de la Dana care imi dadea de stire, incercand sa fie calma, ca trenul trasese in gara de ceva timp stire care s-a culminat cu mine si tata luand bagajele la spinare si facand un mega sprint din fata garii pana la jumatatea peronului, sprint adus subit la halt deoarece mi-am dat seama ca habar nu am unde-I Dana.

Localizarea prietenei mele s-a facut cu un simplu telefon si-am aflat ca ma astepta la Mec. Incurajarile mele frenetice de a -si misca fundul pana la jumatatea peronului a facut-o pe Danuta sa inte-n priza.

Ne-am intalnit intr-un final la mijloc, in tren si am pornit in periculoasa aventura de “train cruising” pritre oameni nesimtiti si bagaje aruncate la intamplare, deorece mai aveam de traversat cel putin 5 vagoane pana sa ajungem la locurile noastre. Calatoria in sine a fost lipsita de evenimente dar am inghetat ca un rahat deoare a plouat de la Bucuresti pana in Costinesti cu galeata iar aerul conditionat cu care ne-a rasfatat patrioticul CFR a fost complet inutil si o totala aruncare de bani pe fereastra.

In Mangalia ne-am urcat intr-un maxi-taxi unde am avut vecini de fund si de unde am coborat cu totii enervati, transpirati, sifonati si mai saraci cu 3 lei jumate. Copilul blond si supraponderal care mi-a fost vecin de fund in maxi-taxi mi-a facut in dar si cateva coate-n coaste, calcaturi pe picioare si transfer de sudoare si nu numai, mi-a deveint coleg de cearsaf , pe plaja in urmatoarele doua zile.

Hook-Man in my closet.

Exista intamplari si intamplari pe care, fie ca vreau sau nu, le repet la nesfarsit, insa fara sa le scriu pe blog ori pentru ca uit, ori pentru ca sunt mediocre ori pentru ca sunt prea scurte dar cum intamplarea asta a fost momentul in care mi s-a orit inima pentru o secunda, si dupa cum veti citi in continuare, aparent si creierul, am zis ca e nevoie sa-o postez.

Intamplarea apare in dialogurile mele ori de cate ori e adus in discutie subiectul filme de groaza. Cine a vazut “I know what you did last summer” poate sa spuna ca e un “chick-flick with a twist”. Nimic serios, doar un criminal in serie pornit pe razbunare, al carui sport preferat este tachinarea victimelor sale.

Cum televiziunea noastra draga n-a mai dat un film nou de un deceniu, ci din contra, pare ca le reia la nesfarsit pe cele vechi, diferenta n-a facut nici antena 1 intr-o seara frumoasa de vara, cand a reluat acest film minunat.

Neavand alte optiuni am decis sa raman pe program asa ca am trecut cu curaj si indrazneala si de prima serie de reclame, apoi a doua serie de reclame si chiar si a treia, a patra serie de reclame a lasat filmul suspendat la partea in care criminalul se ascunde in dulapul lui Sarah Michelle Gellar, asteapta pana aceasta adoarme pentru ca mai apoi sa-i cioparteasca minunatul par si sa il decoreze cu coronita de “regina a balului” pe care aceasta o primise cu un an in urma la terminarea liceului, si pe care trebuia s-o poarte ziua urmatoare intr-o parada.

Am inchis curajoasa televizorul criticand personajul si gandindu-ma ca e absolut imposibil sa existe cineva la tine in dulap si sa nu-ti dai seama. Razand pe infundate si visand la “ce-ar fi daca…” m-a furat incetul cu incetul somnul si-am dormit.

Am dormit pana ce, in mijlocul noptii aud un “hodoronc – tronc” venind dispre dulap, o busitura teribila si terifianta.

Crezand ca inca mai dorm si ca ce-am auzit a fost un vis provocat de film am horatat sa ma intorc la somn. Si totusi sunetul pe care il auzisem nu-mi dadea pace, memoria si senzatia de groaza pe care o primisem atunci cand bufnitura cu pricina mi-a tulburat somnul nu ma lasa sa mi-l reiau asa ca am hotarat sa ma intorc cu fata la sifonier si “OROARE!” , usile erau intre deschise, doar atat incat sa vad o bezna de nedescris inauntru. Atunci, in momentul ala mi s-a oprit inima si-am facut analogia la filmul pe care tocmai il vazusem. Pentru un moment mi-a fost frica pentru viata mea, pentru viitorul pletelor mele si pentru posibilitatea de-a avea un criminal in serie ascuns in sifonier. Doar pentru un moment am trait dintr-un scenariu de film si pot sa spun ca n-a fost deloc placut.

Am hotarat sa-mi infrunt soarta , gestul meu constand in a-mi targe patura peste cap si sa a spera ca n-a observant ca m-am trezit si ca se va multumi doar cu a-mi taia parul si-am instala o coronita pe cap dar dupa cateva moment de gandire m-am horatat ca n-am sa dorm in aceeasi camera cu un criminal in serie chiar daca acesta se ascunde la mine in dulap asa ca m-am ridicat, am aprins in fuga lumina si m-am dus s-o trezesc pe mama.

Povestea culmineaza cu mama injurand pe jumatate adormita si deschizandu-mi usile de la sifonier doar ca sa ajung la concluzia ca bara tranzversala de care erau agatate toate umerasele, cedase intr-unul din capete iar gramada de haine, in cadere, a creeat o bula de aer care a impins usile sifonierului, usi care, fireste, nu erau incuiate.

Am incuiat usile, am multumit cerului, am injurat scenaristul si regizorul filmului si am dormit ca un bebelus pana a doua zi dimineata.

THE END

The Merry Poppins si prima mea experienta cu jazz-ul

Probabil ca stiti déjà ca fac voluntariat la jmEvents si ca, impreuna cu multi altii ne chinuim de vre-o 3 luni sa organizam – cat de bine pot niste studenti s-o faca - mega fetivalul de jazz EuropaFest.

Orele sunt lungi, banii sunt deloc si munca cu carca e deasa si evindent, total neplacuta. Ceea ce face sa merite osteneala, insa, este produsul finit, concertul in sine si momentul de satisfactie pe care-l ai atunci cand iti dai seama ca esti una din rotitele fara de care toata jmecheria nu s-ar pune in miscare.

Aseara am experimentat senzatia asta de climax, sau o fi fost basistul trupei The Merry Poppins… Orice mi-ar fi provocat senzatia asta, a fost epic si senzational de memorabil.

Cu trupa a fost aslta poveste. Au intrat pe scena la 19:30 daca nu ma insel si au stat alaturi de publicul lor pana la 21:00 cand s-a incheiat evenimentul.

Eu am venit de la salile de repetitii, unde ma aflu in fiecare zi de la 8:00, cu catel, cu purcel, cu ghiozdan plin cu lucruri antiplictiseala si tabeluri dezorganizate si aparat foto. Am stat in picioare pentru ca distinsii mei colegi au uitat sa-mi pastreze si mie un loc si totusi nici ca a putut sa-mi pese mai putin.

Am uitat de plictiseala si de monotonia din timpul zile, de bomboanele ucrainiene primate de la una din concurentele da la concursul de flaut, de mamica grijulie din japonia sau de coreenii care traiau in Ibiza si care au facut poze cu mine si cu posterele si cu tricoul meu.

Pentru o ora am uitat tot ce-am citit din Sherlock Holmes pe timpul zilei, de cheile de la salile de repetitie care acum stateau cuibarite in buzunarul blugilor mei. Am uitat de pianistul dragut din polonia si de profesoara de pian din liceu cu care, in ciuda faptului ca implinea 50 de ani in invatamant, mi-am gasit mai multe puncte comune in conceptele despre lumea in care traim, decat mi-as gasi cu cineva de varsta mea.

Am uitat daca am avut neplaceri pe timpul zilei, am uitat de concurentul din rusia care s-a ratacit pe stradute spre liceul George Enescu si m-am pierdut in cele mai calde acorduri de saxofon, bas, chitara si tobe, m-am bucurat pana la lacrimi de cel mai fenomenal stil musical pe care l-am ascultat vre-o data.

Trupa The Merry Poppins este formata din 5 membrii David Lageder (vocalist), Thomas J. Aichinger (Chitara, trombon), Mathias Vorauer (double bass), Robert Aichinger (tobe) si Herbert Könighofer (saxofon, clarinet, percutie).

Baietii imbina intr-un mod absolut memorabil stiluri precum jazz, pop, hip-hop, reggae si cabaretul anilor ’50 din care rezulta melodii energice, vesele, pline de viata si cu cel mai sincer strop de inocenta.

Vocalistul, David Ladger are o voce inconfundabila, fiind capabil sa isi schimbe timbrul vocal de la o melodie la alta precum un cameleon isi schimba culorile.

Dupa concert, baietii au fost suficient de amabili sa sustina o sesiune de autografe in holul salii ArCub de unde, fireste, am plecat cu o foaie plina cu semnaturi si cu un CD pe care baietii mi l-au data pur si simplu deoarece, imbecila de mine nu avea bani sa-l cumpere, iar pentru gestul asta ii mai iubesc de un million de ori in plus.

In concluzie: FESTIVAL DE JAZZ, indifferent de stilul de muzica pe care l-ai imbratisat, merita experimentat si enjoyed.

Mai aveti timp pana pe 12 Mai sa mergeti la concerte la sala ArCub (in spatele Teatrului National de la ora 19, unde studentii au intrare libera) sau la Club Tribute (de la ora 20:30 unde intrarea este 25 de lei).

BUCURATI-VA DE MAGIA MUZICII.

VOLUNTARIATUL: Munca din placere sau plantatie de scalvi?

Incepand cu luna Martie am intrat in afacerea asta cu capul inainte. Pentru prima oara in viata mea mi-am asumat consecintele unei decizii luate la repezeala si platesc, platesc.

Denisa, colega mea de design vestimentar ma bruia de ceva vreme cu povestea unui mail pe care-l tot rata ca mai apoi sa-mi povesteasca faptul ca mailul era o confirmare de participare, ca voluntar, la un mega festival de jazz. Cum eu sunt maniaca a muzicii ca arta am primit vesea cu un “YEY!” si un “crezi ca pot sa vin si eu?”, am putut, si intr-o duminica dimineata, intr-o sala de intruniri, dintr-un hotel de la piata muncii a inceput aventura mea ca voluntar.

La inceput au fost lucruri marunte, condimentate cu cerinte mai nonconformiste, task-uri, echipe, oameni noi si interesanti. Copii revolutionari care fac un lucru din placere, nu din dorinta de-a scoate bani.

Mi-am incercat mana la scris comunicate de presa fara vre-un rezultat pozitiv insa. Primele mele comunicate de presa au fost respinse cu raceala, dar nu-mi pierd speranta, stiu ca intr-o zi o sa ma citeasca mii de oameni iar cei care n-au avut inrcredere in mine o sa-si bage unghiile-n gat atunci cand, fals ,imi vor spune “stiam ca ai sa reusesti”.

La inceput am fost atentionati ca pana la incepera festivalului o sa avem un program relaxat, 6 ore, duminica de duminica, dar apoi vom intra in full mode, ce nu ne-a fost explicat insa este ‘ce inseamna full mode?’ dar am aflat nu e nicio problema si ca sa va luminez si pe voi, programul meu e de la ora 8 la ora 21 dupa care imi voi misca fundul obosit la una dintre locatiile de concerte pentru ca “cine stie, poate mai avem nevoie de tine”.

Ca sa nu mai intru in polemici o sa spun pe scurt ce ma enerveaza. Faptul ca nu exista nici macar un covrigel sau un pahar cu apa moca, faptul ca atunci cand trebuie sa plecam sa facem promovare nu ni se deconteaza transportul , faptul ca lumea vorbeste impreuna si se intelege separat, faptul ca, pentru o firma organizatoare de evenimente , ei sunt teribil de dezorganizati , faptul ca o oprire de 5 minute la un chiosc e pierdere de timp, pe cand o oprire la cantina facultatii de drept e in regula atata timp cat cel in control spune ca este in regula, faptul ca ma invart ca o oaie capie fara sa rezolv nimic pentru ca singura modalitate de-a rezolva ceva e prin intermediari si intermediarii sunt incapabili de comunicare etc etc.

M-am invartit dupa cires cat m-am invartit si-am ajuns in propriul meu corcodus, in care sunt propriul meu sef asta daca se va ajunge intr-un final la o concluzie.(MA DUC MAINE DE LA 8 LA LICEU SAU NU? - inca n-am aflat raspunsul)

Are si parti positive voluntariatul asta, insa si cea mai mare dintre ele e ca este o experienta grozava, mai ales pentru un copil de facultate in cautare de ceva fun de facut. Eu una abia astept concertele.

Nu ma lasati sa muncesc degeaba si veniti sa vedeti roadele muncii atat ale mele cat si a altor 20 de oameni la fel de obositi si la fel de scosi din galosi ca si mine in perioada 7 – 13 mai. Concerte de jazz, blues si pop la sala ArCub (in spatele TNB-ului – unde elevii si studentii au intrare gratuita) cat si la club Tribute cu 25 de lei pe intrare.