Poetry (2.179s) Poetry, prose, essays, comments, poems - International Culture and Literature
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agonia.net 
· Perspectives
Article 
Despre Boierism: manifest si razie
Round Table
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2005-11-08 | | It’s not bad to drink coffee. My opinion. It’s bad to drink lots of coffee. Other people’s opinion. An opinion of mine, which contradicts other people’s opinion, but is a natural continuation of my first opinion, is: no matter how much coffee you’d drink, it’s for your own good. Many amendments would usually follow now. But not from me. Another “double” kind of amendment comes from me: the saying “all the pleasant things in life either are immoral, or they make you become overweight” is first of all a platitude commonly used as a word of spirit (and it can be spoken just when spirit-soaked), and secondly, it does not apply for coffee. Let me now tell you my wonderful adventures, because of having too much coffee. It’s insane, you’ll say, to drink 3 liters of coffee in a few hours, even if I was at a party, and coffee was the only drink left available. I have tried cheap ways to drive myself high before, but none of them satisfied me as much as the coffee (for instance, by deliberate prolonged starvation I only got dizziness, not hallucinations). At first, I didn’t feel anything special, except for a mild drowsiness, strange enough for most of you, all you that drink coffee as some kind of a domestic protest against the old Sandman. Then, I (who only drink coffee for its taste) walked home having delirious purposes. Yet, I never thought I was gonna have a waking deliriousness, much less ordinary. Once I got home, I found the morning newspaper on my table in the hall. “I opened the window to make draught, and I started to read the newspaper carefully.” The draught created, I thought, accelerated my pulse so much that I felt my blood rushing even in my left small finger. In the newspaper I read lines like: “Escu died”, “Nastacu in the coma”, “Valeriu Sterian came back from the dead, by death smashing death”, “Porc takes the Nobel Prize”. Strangely, but nothing seemed strange to me. Several minutes later, I thought I was dead, as my heart was not showing any sign of activity. (Traducerea mea este confuza aici, dar chestia este… ca asta este). Unrequitedly? No, it pumps too hard again. I put my finger in my mouth, and I evacuated a considerable amount of black vomit. My domestic spider Escu drowned in my vomit, and Nastacu, my guinea pig, drank a little and went into coma. Then, Valeriu Sterian walked into my room and told me: “Watch it! (Take care!)”. Finally, some Swedes called and told me in English that I won the prize they were offering. Aha, this was the tomorrow newspaper! At last, I managed to fall asleep.
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