Why did the chicken cross the road?!

Posted on September 1, 2007 by Diana

Rhapsody: To slay the mighty, great and glorious dragon which honourably bears the unholy symbol of the five flaming crossed swords!
Hammerfall: To come to the home of the brave!
My Dying Bride: To die alone and embrace the unescapable cold embrace of death on a cold, dark, misty autumn night… Its bloodied body is what I cling to…
Iron Maiden: It was afraid of the dark.
W.A.S.P.: To **** something.
Manowar: To fight side by side with Thor’s mighty minions!!! To rock, drink and ****… and be metalll!!! If the chicken is not into metal, it is NOT MY FRIEND!
Type O Negative: …
Slayer: To refuse this f**king rage, reject God and be baptized in blooood!!!
Korn: To get away from abusive parents.
Children of Bodom: Cuz it got more painful every time he died…
Annihilator: Chicken isn’t it frightening, chicken aren’t you scared…?
Yngwie Malmsteen: To unleash the f***ing furrrry!!!
Ozzy: Chicken gather in their masses… just like witches at black masses…
Metallica: To sue other chicken for crossing his road!
Cradle of Filth: RAAAAA RAAAAAAA GROOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUU GREEEEEEEEEEEE CHICKEEEEEEEEEEEEEN GREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Amon Amarth: To ride for vengeance, fight for honour, glory, die in fire!
Stratovarius: To hunt high & low!
Sonata Arctica: Chicken, my darling, i’m writing to you, tell me that you still love me, whore…
Helloween: To be friends with the other chicken! WEEEEE!
Misfits: To rape your mother and kill your baby today! YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
Evergrey: It went in search of truth!
Saxon: Was it wearin denim? Wearin leather?
System Of A Down: For selfrighteous suicide
Cannibal Corpse: To to be slayed, butchered, ****ed, raped, strangled, for me to feast on its intestines!
Dream Theater: To look another way and not find it there
Immortal: To enter the necrotic frostbitten gates ofblashyrkh… mighty grim ravendark…
Bal-Sagoth: To enter the cosmic power in its vast void of empty nothingness and swoosh within the astralforces of the northern something.. BLODU OK JARNA!
Mayhem: To worship satan!
Arch Enemy: It needs your flesh…
Gamma Ray: You evil farmers! You!

Joe Satriani: “tiruli triruliliruliiiiiiiiiiiiii ChchchchchchtrilululilialuariaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAeeeeeeeeeeauauauauaua *solo*”
Dimmu Borgir: Chicken is war, chicken is pain, chicken is all you’ve ever slain, he is tears in your eyes,he’s the bringer of the blight…
Cruachan: It’s on the rocky road to Dublin!
Grave Digger: Chickenheart! almighty king, freedom it’ll bring! *bagpipes*krijeeesht*
Blind Guardian: Across the street it will believe!
(back vokal: Across the street it will believe!)
Venom: Chicken is in league with Satan!
H.I.M.: He wanted to join the other chicken in death.
Pantera: For he’s a f***in’ cowboy!

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A stupid summer cold made me think of…

Posted on August 31, 2007 by Diana

The room is cold, it’s nearly morning. Outside the darkness lurks between trees and behind the house. The sky has a weak shade of brightness, but still it is not strong enough. It’s exactly the time when shadows return under the beds and closets, when clothes fall back asleep and stop dancing around in the room. Two feet climb down from the bed and step on the cold floor. The Persian rug is worthless. The winer frost has dug it’s way under the house and from there into the wooden floor and thick woolen rug. The huge red terracotta stove holds a vague trace of heat from yesterday’s fire. The scent of a fir-tree covers the one of ashes. A rooster announces the dawn. Cold rays of light reverberate in the ornaments hung from the branches of a Christmas- tree. It’s the day before Christmas and there still is a lot to be done.
In the other room somebody had already lit the fire. As the door opens the smell of smoke that slipped from the little metal stove reaches and covers the scent of the room. Shortly after, the rooms are covered in the scent of toast and before it can diminish it’s already replaced by the scent of coffee.
The house empties in a few minutes, everybody is out working their ways around what seems to be an important day to come.
Outside the smoke from chimneys crawls nearly invisible towards the sky. You wouldn’t even know it existed if you hadn’t felt its scent in every breath. Apart from it, all you can feel is the frost against your face and the strong light of the sun reflected in the snow.
And in the middle of all this a blushing child dressed in red makes her way through the snow drifts pulling a sledge behind her and hopping happily towards the village’s boundaries.

There are 115 days left till Christmas.

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Those Were the Days…

Posted on August 28, 2007 by Diana

Din senin m-am ridicat de pe pat si am dat drumul la radio… si atunci s-a intamplat ceva, ceva ce nu s-a mai intamplat de foarte mult timp. Am auzit: “We are young and lost and so afraid…” De mult nu mi s-a mai intamplat sa dau drumul la radio sau la TV din senin si sa dau peste ei. And oh, the joy that brought to me!!!

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Late Night Thoughts

Posted on August 27, 2007 by Diana

M-am bucurat ca ploua, intr-adevar ploaia are farmecul ei, dar m-am bucurat mai mult pentru ca s-a racorit afara si intr-un final si in casa. Nu am facut mare lucru azi. Vacanta e pe sfarsite, in curand trebuie sa ma apuc de treaba. Inca imi mai caut ceva de lucru ca un back-up plan in caz ca nu-mi iese ce am momentan in cap. La capitolul slujbe cuvantul cheie e “trist”.
Acum e destul de tarziu, mi-e somn dar parca nu-mi e somn, asta si din cauza ca azi mi-am permis sa ma trezesc destul de tarziu. De dimineata, dupa capul meu, la pranz daca iau in considerare ceasul, am pandit o clipa in care s-a oprit ploaia si am dus Smocul la curte. Nu mi-a luat mult, de unde eram am facut 1o minute pe jos pana pe Polona unde am eliberat “fiara”. Va mai sta la curte cam inca doua luni, apoi in apartament cu el.
Si daca de dimineata tot ma bucuram de ploaie, pot spune ca in timpul transportului celor 7 kilograme de motan negru+ doua de la cusca, am ocolit balti, la un moment dat fiind nevoita sa o iau pe strada si nu orice strada ci Soseaua St cel Mare. Problema a venit cand un camion a trecut pe langa noi si a speriat creatura aia mica, de ziceai ca o sa treaca prin peretele custii lui si o sa se duca… nu s-a dus nicaieri.
Scapat in libertate a facut prima oprire in livada de unde s-a intors cu coada plina de scaieti si cu un fir lung de iarba prins de aceeasi coada pe post de trena.
Eu m-am intors acasa cu coada intre picioare. De ce? Casa e pustie acum fara el si probabil il voi vedea doar o singura data pe saptamana si asta daca ma deplasez cateva zeci de minute bune cu autobuzul de acasa de unde stau pana unde sta sis.
Well, ca sa-mi treaca amarul am stat toata dupa amiaza cu nasul in ultimul volum “Harry Potter”. Povestile astea chiar m-au prins dar despre ele voi scrie alta data, prefer sa las acest blog sa fie scris pentru ploaie si Smoc.

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Si concertul…

Posted on August 20, 2007 by Diana

L-am asteptat cu aceeasi nerabdare cu care l-am asteptat si pe cel din Franta. Am vrut mult sa fie anumite persoane acolo dar nu a fost sa fie.
Sunetul a fost de-a dreptul prost, Sarah putea sa taca, pacat de baietii aia fiecare cu o chitara, ca ei canta bine i-am mai auzit dar… singurul lucru ok a fost tipatul lui Dani… pentru ca ma treceau zeci de fiori de fiecare data cand tipa.
Deci: in Franta s-a auzit mult mai bine, trupa a fost mai distanta(ceea ce poate fi considerat mai bine), publicul a fost mai rece si mai lipsit de viata si entuziasm, mai tanar si mai civilizat. Aici sunetul… varza… trupa ok, solistul cu plamani puternici, publicul entuziast care a cam ramas oarecum dezamagit. Da nu-s eu aia care sa critice, in schimb pot sa-mi spun parerea. Va spun ca tin cont de faptul ca ei imi plac foarte mult deci gradul meu de obiectivitate e fosrte scazut: mie mi-au placut, mi-a parut rau ca s-a auzit asa, dar am reusit sa stau o ora intr-o stare de hipnoza aproape totala. Sper sa mai vina, sa-i mai vad, m-as duce si a treia oara si sper ca atunci sa se auda mai bine iar ei sa aiba o prestanta demna de numele pe care-l poarta si sa aud apoi numai de bine la adresa lor.

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