Late in the night, we all headed towards our homes, all drunk both because of the success and because of the wine we had taken in from a second five-litre bottle. It had been our payment for having taken part in that shit. The director had bought it especially for us, thinking we would be glad.
And I can?t say we weren?t?
Acknowledgment. The fact that I had blown the whistle for a decade, with my eyes popping out, willy-nilly got me close to some, let?s say, artistic personalities. That was the proof of my existence in that tormented and tormenting world of culture.
Nicu Alifantis was the first V.I.P. I bumped into in my loose career as a Romanian artist. More or less chronologically, Grigore Vieru the poet was the next personality I met. Then, after a year, music made it possible for me to meet some other famous characters. I caught fleas for Marian Munteanu, got drunk together with the Archbishop of Târgovişte, had Sorin Dumitrescu as a spectator and I made the dust fly during a backstage conflict with Virgil Ogăşanu. I received money in the hat, while at Kretzulescu?s, from Rudel Obreja?s fists and from Mihai Pocorschi?s charity, in order to be defied in the same place ? another type of contiguity- by Costi Ioniţă?s blue eyes. I took part in TV shows together with Dan Iordăchescu, the tenor and with Bianca Ionescu, the soprano.
I slowly started to take into account only the human side of these people. Their flaws, complexes, insecurities and grouch. I finally understood that social victory is only a surface thung. That it is based on circumstances. And on the efforts and shoulders of God knows how many people.
Translated by Raluca Vîjîiac