Manele noi 2018

Mi-e somn.

Abia am venit de la un interviu. Un alt interviu la care incerc sa depasesc handicapul generat de tara-n care m-am nascut (si, hai, si de accent, sa nu se zica).

Dar postul asta nu-i despre herpaderp asta. Sau despre herpaderp cum merg trenurile. Sau despre idiotul care-a murit azi fix langa mine pe banca in fata la Euston. Sau despre cum e viata cand te prinde o ploaie inghetata doar in camasa si telefonul nu reuseste sa-l anunte pe imbecilul de la Uber unde esti. Sau despre cum boul de la Uber nu vorbeste engleza si pe urma incearca sa-ti bage un charge, ca sanki, te-a asteptat 5 minute. Sau despre cum am ajuns eu acasa pe la 11:30 PM. Sau despre dracu’ mai stie ce. Nu.

Postul de azi e doar maneaua zilei, nimic mai mult. Si pentru ca la o manea reusita se cauta si textier si compozitor, va las cu chestiile care-mi trec mie prin cap cand lucrurile nu merg exact cum mi-as dori eu sa mearga. Nu ca azi nu mi-ar fi mers – aia ramane de vazut. Da’ pe mine ma ajuta din cand in cand…si, cine stie, poate v-ajuta si pe voi.


If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:



If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:



If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’



If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!