Nedilja
Oni to neznaju ali ja danas iden u Zagreb. Strašno volim jest snjeg.
Skoro je uspjelo poslje božića. Pili su nekakvu smrdljivu staru vodu koja ih nako omekša. Svaki je žderao ko cijeli čopor. Kad je veliki strogović otvorio auto, ušuljhala sam se krešom ispod sica. Ona su me vukli, al srećom neman repa, a iman duge panđe i samo sam e dublje zakopala ispod sica. Otvarali su vrata prednja zadnja ,a ja sam kroz jedna izlzila a druga ulazila. Nisu znali šta ih je spopalo. Al nije uspilo. Danas oče.
Za ručak pečena kokoš i teletina puno kosti i povrća. Jedva ćekam večeru.
Subota.
Uspješno se materi popela na posetelju dok su posjećivale prijateljice. Nije me skužila pola sata. Onda se vatala za kosu i vikala. Svakako uspjeh.
.Mater i sestra ujutro išle ča, ostavile me zaključane na taraci. Moš mislit. Ja se išuljala kroz ogradu i njima pod auto. Onda je mater počela jaukat i zvat me, tamam da če omekšat ko uvik, i pustit me u auto. Al sestra bjesna izađe trči 7 krugova oko vozila zamenom urlajući "ubit ču te Kupina", i opali me torbon. Morala sam odustat. Prestrašila narančastu mačku pod auto. Pristrašila dva čovika s brkovima. Jedong čeloavoga. Tri starca i dvi babe. Ajme šta guštam kad oni nako prođu kroz volat onda ja zalajem sa moje tarace. Pojela pedigre konzervu, dva čevapa, prepečenisu s jajima i zdjelu milka.
Petak.
Bila sa sestrom i prijom po suncu na vrlo dugu šetnju. Velika sreća. Na stranom terenu, kad sam najmanje očekivala nji dvi bace me u more. Manja sreća. To uvik rade kad osjetim da mi govance visi s jedne dlake.
Ali zato sam trčala za sestrom i istresla vunu i svaku kaljpu vode isključivo na nju. Na povraku doma spretno sam ukrala mačkama kost.
Ali zato me narančasta mačka čekla na mojoj taraci. Spavala je na suncu na mojoj taraci. Ja se lipo nako tiho ušuljla pod ogradu, izvadila panđe, i spretno obošapo gurnila mačku sa balkona na ulicu.
hehhe. Sve to bez da mi ispadne kost iz čeljusti.
Četvrtak
Odvela me sestra na malu šetnju. Nosila je onaj bijeli krznati kaput meni naj draži. Taman sam je počela gonit ki ovcu, onako iz zaleta, ja Kupina brža od bika, luđa of vuka, trčim brže, sve brže, režim, i opa odskočim šapama od njen kaput boje ovce kad me počela vodit doma.
Na putu kući, ispod stabla uočila veliku teču friških glava od ribe ostavljene tamo za sive mačke iz susjedne ulice.
Digla nogu.
Popišala se mačkama u teču.
Srida.
Danas se osječam normalno. Opet mi se jede. Sve jedno kad me mater uvatila na svojoj postelji zaključala me na taraci i pošla leć. Zato sam tukla glavom od vrata ko buzdovan i cvilila onaj mali štene cviluk koji uvik na sestru upali. Sestra se probudila i pustila me ukuću. Niko nezna da s ovim super dugim panđama ja mogu otvirti svašta. Provela noć u bratovom krevetu ne uočena.Uspjeh.
Prestrašila danas dvi nove babe i jednog brkatoga. Ajme šta ja mrzim brkove. Jela glupi pedigre konzervu. Ostavila pola na taraci da namamim mačke. Mačke došle pojele pola moje konzerve i pobigle prije nego su mi otvorili vrata da ih ganjam niza skale.
Utorak.
Ispišale mi mačke cijelu taracu preko noći. Nije bilo uopče smješno. osjećam se čudno.
Zima mi je. Tresu mi se zadnje šape. Prednje šape. Uvukla se materi među cipele u mrak. Sestra me pokrila sa svjom đemperom. Drži me za šapu.Nosi me do grijalice. Ostalo se nesjećam.Osim što nisam htjla jest, to je zaista neobično.
ponediljak.
Jej .došla sestra i veliki strogović iz daljine. Obukla je meni najdraži bijeli kaput onaj boje ovce, samo za mene.
Skoro sam je srušila od veselja. Veliki strogivić neda da se nanjga skaće zato mi je to još draže radit njemu nego inaće. Super dan.
Pripala dva čovika s brkovima, poštara, tri babe, i jednog malog slinavca. Ukrala mački kost i jela frigana masna jaja. Čak mislim da mi se sve više sviđa riba. Malo miriše ko mačkin zadah, ali kad se skroz naviknam do kraja ajme ti ga mačkama, ostat će samo od njih rebra i dlaka.
Monday 28 January 2013
Thursday 17 January 2013
Jutro jedne Jeti.
Jeti se probudi.
Baci oko u kužinu i zumira poput foto aparata, ljepljeći nejasne piksele u oblik jasnog i naj-jednostavnijeg plana za napraviti kakako.
Ona se neće sagnuti dolje u kredencu kako bi uzlea njoj najdraži potić za grijati mljeko, ne naj ne-bolniji način biti će koristiti srebrnu teču koja se suši uz lavandin.
Njen um izvuče ju iz kreveta i povuče prema cilju, samo trenutačno, prije nego shvati, da je to bila još jedna prevara lucidnog sna. Njen um svakodnevno sve više se pretvara u malog prijateljskog duha koji prolazi kroz zidove.
Kako ju um eleastično opali vratevši se u tjelo, tako automatski pokrene njene noge i ruke koje se ispupče i lamataju po zraku.
Yeti se našla u situaciji često obzerviranoj na ljetnim promenadama i dokumentarnim programima, situaciji bube, poprilično velike i nesretne bube koja se preokrenula te se bespomoćno ginga na leđima, neuspijevši se odgurnuti na noge, dok uobičajno gladni predator bali poviše.
Yetine noge sada bicikliraju kroz zrak dok ruke, recentno nabildane mišićima podižu leđa koristeći suspenziju lakta da proizvedu boing-boing pokret, prije pokušaja da tjelo ispale van kreveta.
Ta aktivnost može završiti sa šarenim brojem rezultata. Na nažalost Jeti ne odskoči na na strop, i ne progmiže zidovima. Budimo realni, ovo nije Kafkina priča. Kraj priče može biti da pukne rebro kreveta pa se jadna budalica nađe u još ljepljivijoj situaciji. Ili možda uspije joj kratko simulirati kokošji let te sletiti s nogom u čašu vode koja je cijeliu noć na podu upravo isčekivala takove prilike. Moguće također je da se uopče ne uspije izvuči iz postelje pa ostane neko vrijeme računati izmjene tehnike.
Predpostavljajući da ona ipak uspije soloboditi se ležeće pozicije, i sada sretno tupće kroz kuću na vlastitim nogama, mi bi smo pratili Jeti do kužine,kako njen prvi jutarnji instinkt je ubaciti ili uliti nešto u bučan i zahtjevan želudac. Ona bi podignula srebrnu teču, ulila mljeko, i čekala da se zagrije. Njena generozna ženstvena i donekle dlakava forma bila bi izložena hostelu preko dvorišta kroz prozor kuhinje te bi bila bi opažena od turista i čistaćicine djece koja bi skriknula, pokrenevši kubične metre snjega da avalančiraju sa krova, prekrivši Jetin prozor i sakrviši ju od daljnih pogleda. Djeca bi bila uvjerena da su "vidjeli tog golog duha opet mama", dok uvijek spremni azijski turisti imali bi odlične fotografije, vidljive kroz prozorsku maglu i snjeg, od neobične domesticirane evropske spodobe, Jeti.
Jeti nesvjesna komocije, ulila bi toplo mljeko u čikaru, dodala kraš ekspres, i odgegala s čašom u ruci iznova u sobu. Jedan gutljaj ispraznio bi polovcu vruče čokolade u njen trbuh, instantno stišavajući strahovito režanje koje do tada vibrirao iz pečina grla. Odložila bi čikaru na stolić, te se zamahala prema škafetinu da izvuče par mudanata sa uzorom srca, takve dimenzije da materijal rezan drukčije bi bio dostatan za prekriti interior Bentlija.
Mada neke dane razumljvo odustane sasvim od takvih podhvata, na dane s više entuzijazma, Jeti će proći kroz ritualni ples vezan za te gačiće. Ples ne povezan s jogom, ili bilo kavim new-age konekting sa zemljom sranje, i sasvim ne razumljiv anoreksičnim dizajnericama s druge strane ulice koje da ne upotrebljava zavjese i dobije pak malo svjetla, Jeti odlučno ignorira. Jedan dio mudanta zakačaćit če za nožni prst, koji će ostavit na podu, rastezajući drugi kraj rukom, stvarajući svojevrsni mudant-luk, a slobodnu nogu tada uzdignutu u stilu flaminga zabadat će u nožne rupe, skakajući na mudant držaćoj pandži. Ljuljat če se. Zamjenit če stopala. Rastegnut će mudante horizontalno, vertikalno, mlateći zrak nogama frantično. Neke dane uspijet će zabost bulu i navuč glupe mudante na obe noge, stoječke. No češće predat če se prizivu kreveta, na koji če sjesti, pokušati navući gaćice te če se pre entuziastično zanjihati i završiti iznova na leđima. I da, kao što zamišljate, morati če opet ponoviti cijelu proceduru ustajanja.
Koji je vrag s tom Jeti? pitate se. Zvući užasna. No ljudi kažu, da je blagosovljena. Svakako uz sve ostale simptome, ovdje opisane, Jeti tokom dana dobije bezbrojene udarce iznutra. Da pažljivo pogledate vjerojatno vidjeli bi misteriozne pokrete i skakutanje ispod njene kože. Gadljivo mislite? No slična joj biča kažu da većina njenih simptoma su sasvim normalna pa čak i ne naročito izražena, jer pravo ime jeti zapravo je Chelsea, i nije ona nikakvo čudovište, već samo obićna cura iz susjestva malo, trudna.
Baci oko u kužinu i zumira poput foto aparata, ljepljeći nejasne piksele u oblik jasnog i naj-jednostavnijeg plana za napraviti kakako.
Ona se neće sagnuti dolje u kredencu kako bi uzlea njoj najdraži potić za grijati mljeko, ne naj ne-bolniji način biti će koristiti srebrnu teču koja se suši uz lavandin.
Njen um izvuče ju iz kreveta i povuče prema cilju, samo trenutačno, prije nego shvati, da je to bila još jedna prevara lucidnog sna. Njen um svakodnevno sve više se pretvara u malog prijateljskog duha koji prolazi kroz zidove.
Kako ju um eleastično opali vratevši se u tjelo, tako automatski pokrene njene noge i ruke koje se ispupče i lamataju po zraku.
Yeti se našla u situaciji često obzerviranoj na ljetnim promenadama i dokumentarnim programima, situaciji bube, poprilično velike i nesretne bube koja se preokrenula te se bespomoćno ginga na leđima, neuspijevši se odgurnuti na noge, dok uobičajno gladni predator bali poviše.
Yetine noge sada bicikliraju kroz zrak dok ruke, recentno nabildane mišićima podižu leđa koristeći suspenziju lakta da proizvedu boing-boing pokret, prije pokušaja da tjelo ispale van kreveta.
Ta aktivnost može završiti sa šarenim brojem rezultata. Na nažalost Jeti ne odskoči na na strop, i ne progmiže zidovima. Budimo realni, ovo nije Kafkina priča. Kraj priče može biti da pukne rebro kreveta pa se jadna budalica nađe u još ljepljivijoj situaciji. Ili možda uspije joj kratko simulirati kokošji let te sletiti s nogom u čašu vode koja je cijeliu noć na podu upravo isčekivala takove prilike. Moguće također je da se uopče ne uspije izvuči iz postelje pa ostane neko vrijeme računati izmjene tehnike.
Predpostavljajući da ona ipak uspije soloboditi se ležeće pozicije, i sada sretno tupće kroz kuću na vlastitim nogama, mi bi smo pratili Jeti do kužine,kako njen prvi jutarnji instinkt je ubaciti ili uliti nešto u bučan i zahtjevan želudac. Ona bi podignula srebrnu teču, ulila mljeko, i čekala da se zagrije. Njena generozna ženstvena i donekle dlakava forma bila bi izložena hostelu preko dvorišta kroz prozor kuhinje te bi bila bi opažena od turista i čistaćicine djece koja bi skriknula, pokrenevši kubične metre snjega da avalančiraju sa krova, prekrivši Jetin prozor i sakrviši ju od daljnih pogleda. Djeca bi bila uvjerena da su "vidjeli tog golog duha opet mama", dok uvijek spremni azijski turisti imali bi odlične fotografije, vidljive kroz prozorsku maglu i snjeg, od neobične domesticirane evropske spodobe, Jeti.
Jeti nesvjesna komocije, ulila bi toplo mljeko u čikaru, dodala kraš ekspres, i odgegala s čašom u ruci iznova u sobu. Jedan gutljaj ispraznio bi polovcu vruče čokolade u njen trbuh, instantno stišavajući strahovito režanje koje do tada vibrirao iz pečina grla. Odložila bi čikaru na stolić, te se zamahala prema škafetinu da izvuče par mudanata sa uzorom srca, takve dimenzije da materijal rezan drukčije bi bio dostatan za prekriti interior Bentlija.
Mada neke dane razumljvo odustane sasvim od takvih podhvata, na dane s više entuzijazma, Jeti će proći kroz ritualni ples vezan za te gačiće. Ples ne povezan s jogom, ili bilo kavim new-age konekting sa zemljom sranje, i sasvim ne razumljiv anoreksičnim dizajnericama s druge strane ulice koje da ne upotrebljava zavjese i dobije pak malo svjetla, Jeti odlučno ignorira. Jedan dio mudanta zakačaćit če za nožni prst, koji će ostavit na podu, rastezajući drugi kraj rukom, stvarajući svojevrsni mudant-luk, a slobodnu nogu tada uzdignutu u stilu flaminga zabadat će u nožne rupe, skakajući na mudant držaćoj pandži. Ljuljat če se. Zamjenit če stopala. Rastegnut će mudante horizontalno, vertikalno, mlateći zrak nogama frantično. Neke dane uspijet će zabost bulu i navuč glupe mudante na obe noge, stoječke. No češće predat če se prizivu kreveta, na koji če sjesti, pokušati navući gaćice te če se pre entuziastično zanjihati i završiti iznova na leđima. I da, kao što zamišljate, morati če opet ponoviti cijelu proceduru ustajanja.
Koji je vrag s tom Jeti? pitate se. Zvući užasna. No ljudi kažu, da je blagosovljena. Svakako uz sve ostale simptome, ovdje opisane, Jeti tokom dana dobije bezbrojene udarce iznutra. Da pažljivo pogledate vjerojatno vidjeli bi misteriozne pokrete i skakutanje ispod njene kože. Gadljivo mislite? No slična joj biča kažu da većina njenih simptoma su sasvim normalna pa čak i ne naročito izražena, jer pravo ime jeti zapravo je Chelsea, i nije ona nikakvo čudovište, već samo obićna cura iz susjestva malo, trudna.
Wednesday 16 January 2013
Yetty 's morings
Yetty wakes up.
She throws an eye at the kitchen and zooms in like a camera gluing together vague pixels into a clear most simple plan of making a hot chocolate.
She will not bend down into the cupboard to get her favourite pot for warming milk, no the most painless way would be to use the silver casarrole drying by the sink.
Her mind pulls her out of bed and draws her towards the target, just for an instant, before she realises, it was yet another lucid daydream. Her mind every day is bescoming more a little friendly ghost who passes trough walls.
As Yetty's mind elastically snaps back into her body, her legs and arms jut out, flailing in the air.
Yetty finds her self in the very common situation many times speculated on summer walks and documentary programs, that of a beetle, a rather large and misfortunate beetle which has up turned and is lying on its back, unable to flip onto its legs, usually as a predator looms dribbling overhead.
Yetty's legs of their own accord cycle about in the air whilst the hands now bulkier in muscle jack up the back and using suspension of the elbows produce boing-boing movements, before attempting to ejaculate the body out of bed.
This activity can result in a colorful variety of endings. No unfortunately Yetty does not project on to the ceiling or scuttle on to the walls. Lets be realistic. This is not a Kafka story. The outcome of her take off may result in the bed rib snapping and the poor fool finding herself in a worse bugger than before. Or she might succeed in simulating a short chicken like flight and landing a foot in the water glass that had perched on the floor waiting for such occasion all night. She might not even make it out of the bed and remain a while upgrading technique.
Assuming to her benefit that she managed to get off, and out of the lying position, and is now happily pattering trough the house on her own two feet, we would follow Yetty to the kitchen as her first morning instinct is that of eating or pouring something into her noisy and needy belly. She would pick up the silver pot, pour milk into it, wait for it to warm up. Her generous feminine and slightly hairy form would be exposed to the youthostell across the yard trough the kitchen window, to seen by tourists and children of the cleaning lady, who in turn would scream making cubic meters of snow avalanche from the roof covering Yetty's window and blocking their further view. The children would be convinced they saw "that naked ghost again mummy" whilst the ever ready Asian toursits would have, intermingled with snow and window steam, great photographic shots of the peculiar domesticated european Yetty.
Yetty oblivious to the commotion, would pour the warmed up milk into a cup, stir chocolate powder into the milk, and warble with the cup in hand to the bedroom yet again. One sip would empty half the hot chocolate into her stomach instantly silencing the frightful growls which had been echoing from within. She would place the cup on to a table and reach out towards the drawer to pull out a pair of heart print knickers of such dimensions that if the cloth where cut differently could furnish the interior of a Bentley.
Although some days understandabley she gives up all together, on the more enthusiastic of morings, Yetty will go trough a ritual dance based around these knickers. A dance which has nothing at all to do with yoga, or the new age earth connecting bollox, and one quite incomprehensible to the school of anorexic fashion designers on the other side of the street who Yetty has for the purpose of not using curtains and having some light seep in, chosen to ignore. She will hook one part of the heart print knicker on to a toe, which will remain on the ground, whilst stretching the other end of the knickers with her hand, creating a type of knicker a bow, and with one leg lifted in the style of a flamingo she will aim to poke it trough a knicker hole, by this time hopping about on the knicker clawing foot. She will wobble. Swap feet. Stretch the knickers horizontally ,vertically, swatting the air with her legs frantically. And although some days she does manage to bulls eye both her legs trough the leg holes and get the blooming things on, whilst standing. More frequently she will surrender to the call of the bed, upon which she will sit, and try pull the pants on, only to topple dis balanced instead. And yes, as you suspect, she will have to go through the whole getting up procedure again.
What the hell is wrong with Yetty? you may ask. She sounds beastly. Yet, people say that she is blessed. Indeed. Along side all other symptoms, here described, Yetty trough out the day gets kicked from the inside. If you where to look carefully , you would probbley see, mysterious wriggling and bashing about in her belly. Gruesome you think? In fact like creatures say most of her symptoms so far are common and rather mild, for Yetty's real name is Chelsea, and she's no beast, just an ordinary girl next door pregnant with child.
She throws an eye at the kitchen and zooms in like a camera gluing together vague pixels into a clear most simple plan of making a hot chocolate.
She will not bend down into the cupboard to get her favourite pot for warming milk, no the most painless way would be to use the silver casarrole drying by the sink.
Her mind pulls her out of bed and draws her towards the target, just for an instant, before she realises, it was yet another lucid daydream. Her mind every day is bescoming more a little friendly ghost who passes trough walls.
As Yetty's mind elastically snaps back into her body, her legs and arms jut out, flailing in the air.
Yetty finds her self in the very common situation many times speculated on summer walks and documentary programs, that of a beetle, a rather large and misfortunate beetle which has up turned and is lying on its back, unable to flip onto its legs, usually as a predator looms dribbling overhead.
Yetty's legs of their own accord cycle about in the air whilst the hands now bulkier in muscle jack up the back and using suspension of the elbows produce boing-boing movements, before attempting to ejaculate the body out of bed.
This activity can result in a colorful variety of endings. No unfortunately Yetty does not project on to the ceiling or scuttle on to the walls. Lets be realistic. This is not a Kafka story. The outcome of her take off may result in the bed rib snapping and the poor fool finding herself in a worse bugger than before. Or she might succeed in simulating a short chicken like flight and landing a foot in the water glass that had perched on the floor waiting for such occasion all night. She might not even make it out of the bed and remain a while upgrading technique.
Assuming to her benefit that she managed to get off, and out of the lying position, and is now happily pattering trough the house on her own two feet, we would follow Yetty to the kitchen as her first morning instinct is that of eating or pouring something into her noisy and needy belly. She would pick up the silver pot, pour milk into it, wait for it to warm up. Her generous feminine and slightly hairy form would be exposed to the youthostell across the yard trough the kitchen window, to seen by tourists and children of the cleaning lady, who in turn would scream making cubic meters of snow avalanche from the roof covering Yetty's window and blocking their further view. The children would be convinced they saw "that naked ghost again mummy" whilst the ever ready Asian toursits would have, intermingled with snow and window steam, great photographic shots of the peculiar domesticated european Yetty.
Yetty oblivious to the commotion, would pour the warmed up milk into a cup, stir chocolate powder into the milk, and warble with the cup in hand to the bedroom yet again. One sip would empty half the hot chocolate into her stomach instantly silencing the frightful growls which had been echoing from within. She would place the cup on to a table and reach out towards the drawer to pull out a pair of heart print knickers of such dimensions that if the cloth where cut differently could furnish the interior of a Bentley.
Although some days understandabley she gives up all together, on the more enthusiastic of morings, Yetty will go trough a ritual dance based around these knickers. A dance which has nothing at all to do with yoga, or the new age earth connecting bollox, and one quite incomprehensible to the school of anorexic fashion designers on the other side of the street who Yetty has for the purpose of not using curtains and having some light seep in, chosen to ignore. She will hook one part of the heart print knicker on to a toe, which will remain on the ground, whilst stretching the other end of the knickers with her hand, creating a type of knicker a bow, and with one leg lifted in the style of a flamingo she will aim to poke it trough a knicker hole, by this time hopping about on the knicker clawing foot. She will wobble. Swap feet. Stretch the knickers horizontally ,vertically, swatting the air with her legs frantically. And although some days she does manage to bulls eye both her legs trough the leg holes and get the blooming things on, whilst standing. More frequently she will surrender to the call of the bed, upon which she will sit, and try pull the pants on, only to topple dis balanced instead. And yes, as you suspect, she will have to go through the whole getting up procedure again.
What the hell is wrong with Yetty? you may ask. She sounds beastly. Yet, people say that she is blessed. Indeed. Along side all other symptoms, here described, Yetty trough out the day gets kicked from the inside. If you where to look carefully , you would probbley see, mysterious wriggling and bashing about in her belly. Gruesome you think? In fact like creatures say most of her symptoms so far are common and rather mild, for Yetty's real name is Chelsea, and she's no beast, just an ordinary girl next door pregnant with child.
Thursday 10 January 2013
Nogo-met
Ima tri dana da me tuče beba jače nego ikada. Budi me u snu odzvanjanje stopala. Kako tako nešto malo može takve udarce zadati? Kako se osjeća, želite znati vi koji niste imali bebu u trbuhu. Osječa se kao da unutra živi nogometaš, s malim kopačkama, i kao da cijeli dan vježba zadavanje golova. Auuuu. Auuu. Čuje uzvik publike na svaki jače napucan gol.
Pitanje je kako je tako brzo došlo do nogometa? Nije to neki nasljedni sport, s jedne strane generike su mu jedra i ronjenje a s druge, ples i crtanje, jedino, da jedino, može bit da je i dišpet nasljedan. Oni prepoznatljivi Kaštelanski geni.Hm, onda smisla ima za nogomet.
Wednesday 9 January 2013
Will you marry me?
A decade ago meant, please let me know you will be with me despite all these changes occurring so fast, you will care for me, no matter what path i chose. Everything was changing so fast in the begging of the twenties and there was so much novelty, choice, promise . The question was a desperate gesture. Romantic too, all i need is love and everything else i will make fall in to place. But i need you to offer ,swear, that is it for ever. That unlike all else your love is solid, stable, immobile. Even though everyone liked the adrenalin of changes. The wedding it self was not important. But the question weighed more than space it self. It was impossible to take it lightly. The question to me meant the end of what ever up until than was the joy of possibility. The question, cut the romance, the play, the discovery ,right in its core and said: just him, just this, until you die. I needed to explore. Not all romance was meant to last. There where degustations, tastings of worlds and differences. Adventures trough cultures, ideas, trough minds and bodies, a lot of learning.Somtimes it lasted days,sometimes months but the subconcious hunt for the one never really let it over run .
At times the intoxication felt like love, though it was more of a fire work.
There where not many mistakes, each encounter thrilled, changed the programme, informed the mind and spirt and lead onto the next, level of being and seeking. There was a point the question became a token for my belt of vanity. A souvenir for a cynical and arrogant youth whose key of attraction was in fact the lack of interest for such ideas. And when the quotidian became a life style more extreme with choices that every day could transport the body to a different Continent, to live in a different city, live entirely different lifestyles and means,than i wanted to hear the question. The safety of the eternal promise. I searched for it in reflections of puppy dogs eyes of the pretties faces. I wanted results, fast concoctions, which to where followed by fast effervescence.
When it stopped being about having one person promise to be there for the other, and it became two people wanting together to create something. To create, to go together, balance between dreams of both with intentions of realising all. Well than it happened. Will you marry me, became a concept rather pleasing. The promise liberating.
A decade ago meant, please let me know you will be with me despite all these changes occurring so fast, you will care for me, no matter what path i chose. Everything was changing so fast in the begging of the twenties and there was so much novelty, choice, promise . The question was a desperate gesture. Romantic too, all i need is love and everything else i will make fall in to place. But i need you to offer ,swear, that is it for ever. That unlike all else your love is solid, stable, immobile. Even though everyone liked the adrenalin of changes. The wedding it self was not important. But the question weighed more than space it self. It was impossible to take it lightly. The question to me meant the end of what ever up until than was the joy of possibility. The question, cut the romance, the play, the discovery ,right in its core and said: just him, just this, until you die. I needed to explore. Not all romance was meant to last. There where degustations, tastings of worlds and differences. Adventures trough cultures, ideas, trough minds and bodies, a lot of learning.Somtimes it lasted days,sometimes months but the subconcious hunt for the one never really let it over run .
At times the intoxication felt like love, though it was more of a fire work.
There where not many mistakes, each encounter thrilled, changed the programme, informed the mind and spirt and lead onto the next, level of being and seeking. There was a point the question became a token for my belt of vanity. A souvenir for a cynical and arrogant youth whose key of attraction was in fact the lack of interest for such ideas. And when the quotidian became a life style more extreme with choices that every day could transport the body to a different Continent, to live in a different city, live entirely different lifestyles and means,than i wanted to hear the question. The safety of the eternal promise. I searched for it in reflections of puppy dogs eyes of the pretties faces. I wanted results, fast concoctions, which to where followed by fast effervescence.
When it stopped being about having one person promise to be there for the other, and it became two people wanting together to create something. To create, to go together, balance between dreams of both with intentions of realising all. Well than it happened. Will you marry me, became a concept rather pleasing. The promise liberating.
Saturday 5 January 2013
The witch circle
Aware of my being alone I followed the shop windows into the belly of the silence and found the address. It had an old fashioned window decorated with books. A bell on the door jingled announcement of my presence and I let my self in, climbing into a warm, cosy brown store. Passing the ordinary window dressing, objects of curiosity slipped in to view. Stuffed birds. Feathers. Bones. Crystals. Oils. the books too they changed image, most where used and antique. There was no space in the library for the common sorts of fiction, this shop was dedicated to all the tiny corners of Esoteric reading which exist in public libraries or are pushed on to a shelf in bookshops. It contained only books on magic.
You are expected downstairs.
A lady from the counter told me. How did she know?
I tottered downstairs carefully sniffing the air like a woodland creature wondering what will i find. I was told i had to come barefoot or in slippers and dressed comfortable. Downstairs was the temple room. More like a school classroom. Floors carpeted. Chairs plastic. People of various ages sat and cheerfully chatted all seemingly well acquainted. I returned to the small hallway to abandon my coat on a pile of velvets, hats with feathers and staffs, than found a chair and awaited what was to be.
The lady who invited me I recognised immediately. Red curling long hair falling down her back and front framing a small face with a long fringe. She was very slim accentuated by the black clothes, small, and her movements timid. I had perhaps expected an international author proud of her achievements to be more boastful with shoulders out and a tone more domineering. But this creature looked like the real thing. Like someone very comfortable in nature. She had sparky brown deep eyes which could not be mistaken, and which stored knowledge of mysteries that I would like to hear of, whilst her voice was very quiet, excepting of out busrsts of giggles. She would fit very comfortabley in a fairy tale. With the perfect name, Viviane.
A cricle of chairs was formed. A Tibetan bell cut the rooms chatter into silence. We where asked to introduce our names and previous attendance and it appeared I was the rare novice. The eclectic lights where extinguished.
Viviane spoke about the time of year. It was late November. In the earley autom all the fruits are picked, harvests are made and than everything starts to quiten down, die. It is a process of quiet regeneration. All is still for a while, leaves have dropped off trees. As November ends a new celebratory period begins, festivities, outbursts of energy, clebratiing life and the promise of the new year. Vivian's descriptions where very poetical, explaining wondefuly the earth's movements.
Afterwards a sort of ceremony started.
A man acompanied vivane to light four candles for the four earth directions. They honoured the elements and than invited arch angels to guard us . Incense too was passed to bless the group. Than the meditation started. Quite simple meditation formulated alike many I have read about and experienced, based on visualisation. Walking in our mind to a certain place in nature.
At one point I found my self in a clearing in the woods beneath a full moon night. I was asked to feel the energy golden light from the ground and earth going into my feet and the light energy of the universe entering me from above. I could visualise it, raining-in the fleeting images from expanding on the theme.
But than the voice asked us to stand up, walk a step towards the middle of the room, and take the hands of the two people standing next to us, eyes still closed. We all did as did I taking each other by the hands and compleating a circle. The second I did, I hared the shushing of white noise in my ear. I imagined somone had turned on a radio. It was very loud almost like waterfalls. As the voice talked over the noise, something about energy flowing trough us all, I started to feel very faint. My plams tingleled, the head hurt, the ears where burning from the inside, the stomach fell sick, and the shushing got louder .The knees began to crumble beneath me and whilst I tired to not embarrass my self with this unexpected weakness, I could no longer stand on two feet, and pulled back far enough to sit down. I continued holding hands with the people next to me and felt my self going smaller, crumbling into the gravity pulling me down, wanting nottihng more but to drop on to the floor , curl up like a ball and loose consciousness. It lasted long , impossible, painful eternities. But I fought to stay awake more out of embarrassment in front of all these new people, than else.
Than we where told to let go of the hands. The instant that I did, the whole thing stopped.
The noise stopped ,as did the burning in the ears, and pain in the head and the sickness in stomach, it all ended.
I recovered fast, shocked at this very physical experience such as I have never had in meditation. I talked to Viviane about it afterwards but she suggested that perhaps it was my artist mind flipping sounds into visuals and visuals into sounds, which made sense in my ordinary life, but not here, not now.It did not explain the force which passed trough me and only once I was connected to all those people who to where visualising the sharing of energy. I wanted her to tell me that she too had felt it at some point, that exactley that sort of experiences is hidden in her mischievous eyes, and that is why she has been writing for so long, but no such confession was given. No one else in the room seemed to have any sort of reaction other than the pleasure of having meditated together.
Did happen because of twenty of us being joined at the hands and ended as soon as we where not? But I could not define weather I truly did feel everybody's energy, and the energy of the earth and space flowing tough us, and this being too much for me? On the other hand should not this energy make us feel good? Or weather I just reacted to someone in that circle who's energy was malicious, and who made me feel so ill.
The meditation ended, people departed, and I left back in to the night, both a little frightened and very curious, still uncertain as to what has happened.
Friday 4 January 2013
Mala vjenčanica boje bjelokosti.
Lov na vjenčanice započeo je prije dvije godine, udužen s Becky. Odlepršale smo k najglamuroznijem butiqu u gradu i pokušale svaku moguću halju. Između skidanja u gačice, gnječenja, guranja, vezivanja i usisavanja u sve moguće oblike kontese i kraljice, Becky i ja pile smo čaj taj dan i uživale naš luksuzni san.
Sljedeća lokacija, za prove haljina bila je na drugoj strani grada, gdje nismo prošle ništa bolje od tvornićkih kokoša i bile gurnute u, i van, još jedan niz haljina.
Moram reći umorilo nas je prilično. Neko vrijeme bile smo gotove sa manijom vjenčanica. Otkazale smo ostatak prova a Becky je odletila u Englesku te si našla haljinu i postole pa čak i odjeću za djeveruše u jednom dućanu, bez stresa, naravno osim neizostavljivog prisustva matere.
Kako se datum mom vjenčanju bližio, potpalila sam potragu i bacila oko u Splitu gradu. I dalje mi se sviđala ideja svile. Ali sve te kontesa , maria antonieta, napuhane, komplicirane vešte , ove godine jednostavno više nisu prijale, pa sam se i ja odpratila u Englesku.
Kao i uvjek jednostavno je bilo pre zabavno, aktivna vrsta praznika, i nakon milijun putovanja vamo-namo sa pod-zemnom između prijatelja, guljenje odjeće samo da bih je opet odjenula ,doimalo se gubitak sasvim dobrog vremena.
No kako sam putovala turneju starom domovinom, mamina prijateljica imala je eureku. Htjela me je iznenaditi sa revijom vjenčanih haljina, koje bih ja provala, haljine iz njene kompanije, i stavila ih je sve u auto, sa planom da me ulovi u tete Barbare, no, neznajući ja sam već bila otištla iz tog kraja , da niti jednu nisam provala.
Djevojka, njenog sina provla je haljine, slike su poslali, a na meni je bilo samo odabrati.
Haljine su bile prekrasne. Satin, chffon, svile. Jednostavne haljine. Taman dovoljno duge šlepove. Odmah sam znala koju želim nostiti. Pamela je spasila dan, gotov je bio orbit dosadnih dučana, stavila je haljinu u kutiju i jednostavno je poslala.
Nakon mnogo dana nestrpljenja, haljine su stigle u Hrvatsku. No vjerovali ili ne, kada poštar ovdje vidi kutiju on je ne donese na vrata da ponudi vam dobar dan, ne ovdje pošta čudna je stvar. Prvo otvore kutije i dobro prokopaju. Zatim slobodnom procjenom vrijednosti izmisle neku carinu.
Pa se mora iči u glavnu poštu grada i platiti za pismo u kojm piše da svoj paket nečeš tek tako primiti.
I ako se protiviš njihovoj optužbi importacije, i kažeš da nema račun,a da je zaista dar, oni jedonstavno takve razlog ne prihvate. Draže im je imisliti glavoblju od cijene i naplatiti.
Porez na moj paket, svekrva kaže , je način kojim država poploćava ulice gradova. Dakle. Trebalo je tjedan dana odlaska na poštu, zivkanja, smješenja, škrabanja po papirima, i pokzivanja trudnog trbuščića da konačno odkupim istučenu kutiju .
Ali u žurbi jutra uspjela sma zaboraviti ključ u stanu, i isključala se van. Trebalo je taksijem do jaruna, tolerirati taksistu koji je pričao o pasjim kakicama putem tamo i natrag da dospijem do ključa koji bi mi dopustijo otvoriti u privatnosti kutiju koja je gorila svo to vrijeme.
Konačno u unutra stana. Nožiće su napale selotejp. Dvije haljine u plastici iskočila su na svjetlo dana. Brzinski sam zbacila krzna i kaput, raspalila radiator, pritisinla play na pjesmi koji uvjek nosi sreću, raspršujući hlaće, cipele, čarpe. Skinula sam se u gačice, domaknula barikade sa ogledala u hodniku, i skliznula tjelo u satin, oči pune čuda, zubi reflektriajući kristalčiće.
Da bih otkrila kako veličina koja je uvijek bila moja odjednom se suzila. Kako to može biti? Zgnjećila sam i dizala prsi gori i doli ali jednostavno su explodirale iz haljine. Nisam mogla zamisliti da sise ikada mogu biti pre velike. Ali nakon struka više se nije dalo zakopčati.
Malo manje vesela, skinula sam haljinu i odbacila štikle, da bih uzela pravu, broj jedan, haljinu koju ču nosti na taj dan.
Sastavljena je od chiffona boje bjelokosti, i starniskih draguljića, jednostavno je prekrasna. Ušla sam u nju, vrlo polako, uživajući u trenutku, prsi su stale, uzbuđenje je poraslo, polako sam marširala do ogledala da bih uočila trbuh koji strši van kao bovan.
Ah. Šta da rečem? Nemam pojma što ću nosti tu većer.
Sljedeća lokacija, za prove haljina bila je na drugoj strani grada, gdje nismo prošle ništa bolje od tvornićkih kokoša i bile gurnute u, i van, još jedan niz haljina.
Moram reći umorilo nas je prilično. Neko vrijeme bile smo gotove sa manijom vjenčanica. Otkazale smo ostatak prova a Becky je odletila u Englesku te si našla haljinu i postole pa čak i odjeću za djeveruše u jednom dućanu, bez stresa, naravno osim neizostavljivog prisustva matere.
Kako se datum mom vjenčanju bližio, potpalila sam potragu i bacila oko u Splitu gradu. I dalje mi se sviđala ideja svile. Ali sve te kontesa , maria antonieta, napuhane, komplicirane vešte , ove godine jednostavno više nisu prijale, pa sam se i ja odpratila u Englesku.
Kao i uvjek jednostavno je bilo pre zabavno, aktivna vrsta praznika, i nakon milijun putovanja vamo-namo sa pod-zemnom između prijatelja, guljenje odjeće samo da bih je opet odjenula ,doimalo se gubitak sasvim dobrog vremena.
No kako sam putovala turneju starom domovinom, mamina prijateljica imala je eureku. Htjela me je iznenaditi sa revijom vjenčanih haljina, koje bih ja provala, haljine iz njene kompanije, i stavila ih je sve u auto, sa planom da me ulovi u tete Barbare, no, neznajući ja sam već bila otištla iz tog kraja , da niti jednu nisam provala.
Djevojka, njenog sina provla je haljine, slike su poslali, a na meni je bilo samo odabrati.
Haljine su bile prekrasne. Satin, chffon, svile. Jednostavne haljine. Taman dovoljno duge šlepove. Odmah sam znala koju želim nostiti. Pamela je spasila dan, gotov je bio orbit dosadnih dučana, stavila je haljinu u kutiju i jednostavno je poslala.
Nakon mnogo dana nestrpljenja, haljine su stigle u Hrvatsku. No vjerovali ili ne, kada poštar ovdje vidi kutiju on je ne donese na vrata da ponudi vam dobar dan, ne ovdje pošta čudna je stvar. Prvo otvore kutije i dobro prokopaju. Zatim slobodnom procjenom vrijednosti izmisle neku carinu.
Pa se mora iči u glavnu poštu grada i platiti za pismo u kojm piše da svoj paket nečeš tek tako primiti.
I ako se protiviš njihovoj optužbi importacije, i kažeš da nema račun,a da je zaista dar, oni jedonstavno takve razlog ne prihvate. Draže im je imisliti glavoblju od cijene i naplatiti.
Porez na moj paket, svekrva kaže , je način kojim država poploćava ulice gradova. Dakle. Trebalo je tjedan dana odlaska na poštu, zivkanja, smješenja, škrabanja po papirima, i pokzivanja trudnog trbuščića da konačno odkupim istučenu kutiju .
Ali u žurbi jutra uspjela sma zaboraviti ključ u stanu, i isključala se van. Trebalo je taksijem do jaruna, tolerirati taksistu koji je pričao o pasjim kakicama putem tamo i natrag da dospijem do ključa koji bi mi dopustijo otvoriti u privatnosti kutiju koja je gorila svo to vrijeme.
Konačno u unutra stana. Nožiće su napale selotejp. Dvije haljine u plastici iskočila su na svjetlo dana. Brzinski sam zbacila krzna i kaput, raspalila radiator, pritisinla play na pjesmi koji uvjek nosi sreću, raspršujući hlaće, cipele, čarpe. Skinula sam se u gačice, domaknula barikade sa ogledala u hodniku, i skliznula tjelo u satin, oči pune čuda, zubi reflektriajući kristalčiće.
Da bih otkrila kako veličina koja je uvijek bila moja odjednom se suzila. Kako to može biti? Zgnjećila sam i dizala prsi gori i doli ali jednostavno su explodirale iz haljine. Nisam mogla zamisliti da sise ikada mogu biti pre velike. Ali nakon struka više se nije dalo zakopčati.
Malo manje vesela, skinula sam haljinu i odbacila štikle, da bih uzela pravu, broj jedan, haljinu koju ču nosti na taj dan.
Sastavljena je od chiffona boje bjelokosti, i starniskih draguljića, jednostavno je prekrasna. Ušla sam u nju, vrlo polako, uživajući u trenutku, prsi su stale, uzbuđenje je poraslo, polako sam marširala do ogledala da bih uočila trbuh koji strši van kao bovan.
Ah. Šta da rečem? Nemam pojma što ću nosti tu većer.
Balkanski glodavac.
Balkanski glodavac fascinatan je životinjski specimen. Mnogi nisu svjesni njegova postojanja iako su se našli na teritoriju životinje koja kao sveprisutni štakor nalazi se ama baš svugdje.
Balkanski glodavac podrijetlom potječe budimo iskreni, iz pripizdine, ali njegov je exterior stiliziran do vrhunca sjaja uglađenog građana svjeta ili ti ga civiliziranog čovjeka. Ne može ga se izdvojiti po dlaci, jer on kao vuk mjenja ju po potrebi.Puši cigarete u pušačkom društvu a nepuši u nepušaćkom. Voli se smijati, s mrvicom podjebancije baca šale na svačji račun i taman dovoljno na svoj da se ne ističe. Izuzetno dobro je informiran o svijetu, događajima, a najbolje je informiran o ljudima. On je izrazito zainteresiran u detalje tuđih zanimanja, i gaji svako novo poznanstvo kao sudbinosan sudar zaživotnog prijateljstva. Lako ga je zavoljeti. Kao umiljati pas on nosi svakojake darove, nudi svoje usluge za sve čovječe potrebe, zna odgovor na sve probleme novog poznanika i vrlo brzo priraste srcu te postane bliski prijatelj.
Treba vremena, strpljenja, te broj neočekivanih izuzetaka od prijateljskog ponašanja da bi itko uvidio sekvencu u ponašanju ovog primata. Nakon što od glodavca najboljeg novog prijatelja čovjek oduševljeno primi broj neočekivanih darova, glodavac u striktnom povjerenju izusti svoj problem. Glodavčev problem slučajno se poklapa perfektno sa sposobnostima, vlasništvom ili zanimacijom novog prijatelja koji oduševljen da može novom drugu vratiti toplinom odmah ponudi svoje usluge kao i usluge drugih ljudi koje zna. Tako započme prvo neprimjetno zatim ne skriveno glodavčevo traženje brojnih te sve večih usluga od novog prijatelja koji ako posustane uvijek pristojno podsjeti koliko je darova i pomoći on tom poznaniku dao. Ukoliko taj poznanik se odupre jer se čin tražen od njega udara sa osobnim moralima, tada glodavac ne tako prijazno podsjeti tog prijatelja na samo njemu povjerne tajne koje je spreman ispričati točno onom tko nebi smio znati,te dobije što je htjeo. Prijateljstvo nastavlja u izmejni usluga, dugova i ucjena.
Čovijek često može biti zaveden glodavčevoj snalažljivosti, te oduševljen imitira neko vrijeme ponašnje osječajući se sposoban i biznisman.
No drugi udar iznenađenja kojim simpatični glodavac zada svim svojim prijateljima uradi otkrivši kako postoje osobe koje su jednako sudbonosno postale prijatelji i koji ne samo da su glodavcu sada bliski, nego su i važniji od ove osobe kojoj je do tog trenutka rečljivo ma čak i poetično opisivao istinsko jednistveno prijateljstvo. Zatim počme igrati igre manipulacije otkrivajući povjerne tajne jednog prijatelja drugom, i rugajući se obje u društvu iza leđa, mameći najgoru ljudsku stranu possivnosti, ljubomore na površnu, svo vrijeme uživajući u crikusu pažnje oko sebe. Bilo to prijateljstvo romantično ili ne, glodavac ih stvara mnogo, vanjštinom povjerljivo, i nikada ne dopušta da zaglavi samo sa jednom osobom, jer počevši iz koristoljubivosti nitkom drugom ne vjeruje kao što nevjeruje ni sebi.
Krucialna osobina blakanskog glodavca također je i pohlepa. Kao švraka on sve što sjaji želi imati, također voli darove, voli hranu, voli alkohol, zna se predozirati na svemu ili ne konzumirati ništa ali mu nema draže stvari od besplatne ili extremno jeftine. Na bazi svog spola, humora, prijateljstva, kleptomanski sakuplja sve što se nudi. Konsiskventno ima tendenciju ljepiti se na sve osobe bogatije od sebe, te ponašati se primjetno pristojnije, na duže staze nego što to čini s osobama čije je kvalitete do kraja upotrijebio. U bogatijem društvu on igra ulogu zabavljača, komičara, zavoditelja, koncepira svakojaka druženja koja bi nemu pasala, za koja plaća netko drugi.
Nakon dugogodišnjeg poznastva ljudi počmu kužiti načine balkanskog glodavca, svi kojih je držao blizu brojnih puta je razočarao, ali postoje onih kojima takvo extremno prijateljstvo paše, ili im se sviđa neprevidljviost, bilanca ljubavi i mržnje kakvu samo balkanski glodavac zna stvoriti. Osjačaju se strastveni. Uvjere se da je balkanski glodavac samo srž stvarnosti života. Ili pak izmjena usluga im paše, u svakom slučaju nastavljaju sa poznanstvom dok više puta svađeni ipak ne oproste i postanu doživotni prijatelji. Na drugu ruku balkanskih glodavaca na balkanu ima mnogo, te kada ih neki ljudi prepoznaju, prezasićeni takvim ponašanjem počmu rješavati ih se.Stjeran u taj kut tada balkanski glodavac iznova postane neočekivano darežljiv i šarmantan jer neželi igubiti izvor daljnih usluga, pa ljudi često padaju na njegovo prijateljstvo bezbroj puta.
O teritorju Balkanskih glodavaca nezna se ništa pre specifično, rašireni su preko cijelog balkana, žive u malim mjestima kao i u velikim, bave se varijacijom zanimanja, od preprodaje auta, otvarju izmišljene aganicje za pakiranje i prodaju magla, dok možda naj očitiji pripadaju političkim strankama. Kada prepoznate balkanskog glodavca iz daljine nemojte se bojati, u svijetu postoje mnoge pasmine glodavca a balkanski barem je domaći.
Balkanski glodavac podrijetlom potječe budimo iskreni, iz pripizdine, ali njegov je exterior stiliziran do vrhunca sjaja uglađenog građana svjeta ili ti ga civiliziranog čovjeka. Ne može ga se izdvojiti po dlaci, jer on kao vuk mjenja ju po potrebi.Puši cigarete u pušačkom društvu a nepuši u nepušaćkom. Voli se smijati, s mrvicom podjebancije baca šale na svačji račun i taman dovoljno na svoj da se ne ističe. Izuzetno dobro je informiran o svijetu, događajima, a najbolje je informiran o ljudima. On je izrazito zainteresiran u detalje tuđih zanimanja, i gaji svako novo poznanstvo kao sudbinosan sudar zaživotnog prijateljstva. Lako ga je zavoljeti. Kao umiljati pas on nosi svakojake darove, nudi svoje usluge za sve čovječe potrebe, zna odgovor na sve probleme novog poznanika i vrlo brzo priraste srcu te postane bliski prijatelj.
Treba vremena, strpljenja, te broj neočekivanih izuzetaka od prijateljskog ponašanja da bi itko uvidio sekvencu u ponašanju ovog primata. Nakon što od glodavca najboljeg novog prijatelja čovjek oduševljeno primi broj neočekivanih darova, glodavac u striktnom povjerenju izusti svoj problem. Glodavčev problem slučajno se poklapa perfektno sa sposobnostima, vlasništvom ili zanimacijom novog prijatelja koji oduševljen da može novom drugu vratiti toplinom odmah ponudi svoje usluge kao i usluge drugih ljudi koje zna. Tako započme prvo neprimjetno zatim ne skriveno glodavčevo traženje brojnih te sve večih usluga od novog prijatelja koji ako posustane uvijek pristojno podsjeti koliko je darova i pomoći on tom poznaniku dao. Ukoliko taj poznanik se odupre jer se čin tražen od njega udara sa osobnim moralima, tada glodavac ne tako prijazno podsjeti tog prijatelja na samo njemu povjerne tajne koje je spreman ispričati točno onom tko nebi smio znati,te dobije što je htjeo. Prijateljstvo nastavlja u izmejni usluga, dugova i ucjena.
Čovijek često može biti zaveden glodavčevoj snalažljivosti, te oduševljen imitira neko vrijeme ponašnje osječajući se sposoban i biznisman.
No drugi udar iznenađenja kojim simpatični glodavac zada svim svojim prijateljima uradi otkrivši kako postoje osobe koje su jednako sudbonosno postale prijatelji i koji ne samo da su glodavcu sada bliski, nego su i važniji od ove osobe kojoj je do tog trenutka rečljivo ma čak i poetično opisivao istinsko jednistveno prijateljstvo. Zatim počme igrati igre manipulacije otkrivajući povjerne tajne jednog prijatelja drugom, i rugajući se obje u društvu iza leđa, mameći najgoru ljudsku stranu possivnosti, ljubomore na površnu, svo vrijeme uživajući u crikusu pažnje oko sebe. Bilo to prijateljstvo romantično ili ne, glodavac ih stvara mnogo, vanjštinom povjerljivo, i nikada ne dopušta da zaglavi samo sa jednom osobom, jer počevši iz koristoljubivosti nitkom drugom ne vjeruje kao što nevjeruje ni sebi.
Krucialna osobina blakanskog glodavca također je i pohlepa. Kao švraka on sve što sjaji želi imati, također voli darove, voli hranu, voli alkohol, zna se predozirati na svemu ili ne konzumirati ništa ali mu nema draže stvari od besplatne ili extremno jeftine. Na bazi svog spola, humora, prijateljstva, kleptomanski sakuplja sve što se nudi. Konsiskventno ima tendenciju ljepiti se na sve osobe bogatije od sebe, te ponašati se primjetno pristojnije, na duže staze nego što to čini s osobama čije je kvalitete do kraja upotrijebio. U bogatijem društvu on igra ulogu zabavljača, komičara, zavoditelja, koncepira svakojaka druženja koja bi nemu pasala, za koja plaća netko drugi.
Nakon dugogodišnjeg poznastva ljudi počmu kužiti načine balkanskog glodavca, svi kojih je držao blizu brojnih puta je razočarao, ali postoje onih kojima takvo extremno prijateljstvo paše, ili im se sviđa neprevidljviost, bilanca ljubavi i mržnje kakvu samo balkanski glodavac zna stvoriti. Osjačaju se strastveni. Uvjere se da je balkanski glodavac samo srž stvarnosti života. Ili pak izmjena usluga im paše, u svakom slučaju nastavljaju sa poznanstvom dok više puta svađeni ipak ne oproste i postanu doživotni prijatelji. Na drugu ruku balkanskih glodavaca na balkanu ima mnogo, te kada ih neki ljudi prepoznaju, prezasićeni takvim ponašanjem počmu rješavati ih se.Stjeran u taj kut tada balkanski glodavac iznova postane neočekivano darežljiv i šarmantan jer neželi igubiti izvor daljnih usluga, pa ljudi često padaju na njegovo prijateljstvo bezbroj puta.
O teritorju Balkanskih glodavaca nezna se ništa pre specifično, rašireni su preko cijelog balkana, žive u malim mjestima kao i u velikim, bave se varijacijom zanimanja, od preprodaje auta, otvarju izmišljene aganicje za pakiranje i prodaju magla, dok možda naj očitiji pripadaju političkim strankama. Kada prepoznate balkanskog glodavca iz daljine nemojte se bojati, u svijetu postoje mnoge pasmine glodavca a balkanski barem je domaći.
Thursday 3 January 2013
The little ivory wedding dress
The hunt for wedding dresses started two years ago, teamed up with Becky. We flounced up to the most glamorous boutique in town and tried on every possible gown. In between of stripping into knickers and being squeezed, zipped, pushed, tied, sucked into all possible shapes of duchess and queen, Becky and I sipped on Tea and relished our luxurious dream.
The next venue, for dress trying was on the other side of town where we not unlike battery chickens where coarsely rushed in and out another set of gowns.
I must say it tired us out. For a while we where done with our wedding dress bout.We annulled the other trips and Becky flew off to England and acquired a dress, and shoes, and bridesmaids outfits in a shop, free of stress other , than well the inevitable presence of mother.
As the date to my wedding day neared, I re fueled my search dropping an eye at the shops in split town. I still liked the idea of silk. But all that duchess, Marie Antoinette, puffed up, complicated frocks this year simply did not do, so i went off to England too.
As it is always it turned out far to much fun, active, sort of holiday and after trips on end with the tube in between encounters with friends hours of stripping clothes only to put them on again seemed a waste of good time.
And than as I toured the old country, my mothers friend had an eureka. She was going to surprise me with a cat show of wedding dresses, which I could try, dresses from her company and she put them all in the car with a plan to hunt me down at Aunt Barbara's ,but i, had not knowing this plan and left, having tired none.
Her sons girlfriend tried the dresses, and they sent me the photograph's, and I had but to chose.
The dresses where beautiful. Satins, silks, chiffon's. Simple shapes. Just long enough trains. I immediately knew the one I wanted to wear . Pam had saved the day, i had no more silly shops to orbit, she put the dress in a box, and sent it away.
After many days of imatience, the dress arrived in Croatia . But woe, here believe it or not, when a post man sees a box, he does not take it to your door to say, how do you do. No, here the post, is a very curious thing, they first of all like to open each box. They nose about and see what is inside. And than make up a customs-tax-sort of fine.
So one has to go to the main post office of the city. And pay to pick up a letter in which they say you cant have it just so.
And if you fight their accusation of you having imported it, and say there is no bill which thex demand, that the package is a gift. They bluntly refuse to accept such a story and still insist on an invocie or make up their own value of the dresses which than they make you pay in the name of the functioning of the state.
The taxes put on my package, mother in law informs me, are there to pave local cities. Right. It took a week going to and fro the post, falsifying bills, filling up papers, calling, smiling, and showing pregnat belly to cut queues to finaly buy the battered box from them .
Only, in the rush of the morning, I had managed to , lock my self out, of the apartment. Had to ride a taxi to the furthest edge of town, tolerate the driwer complaining aobut dog pats all they way and back to have a key which would enable me the privacy to open the box which had all the way been buring at my side.
At last inside. Sizzors attacked the selotape. Two dresses slid out in plastic. I quickly threw of the furs and coat and turned up the radiators, pressed play on the track which always brings me luck, ejecting trousers and socks and shoes. I stripped down to the knickers, pulled off barricades from the hall mirror, and slid my body into satins, eyes full of wonder , teeth reflecting jewels.
To discover, that the size that has been mine for ever has suddenly shrunk. How could this be? I twisted, and jacked my own breasts up and down but they simply ower flowed the gown. I had no idea boobs could ever, be too big. Yet, after the waist I could simpley not do up the zip.
A little de-spirited, I slid the frock off and kicked heels away, only to pick up the real, number one, the dress I will wear on the day.
Its made of ivory chiffon's falling, and satin silk, and antique style jewel's and is simpley dlightfull. I got in ,very slowly , savouring the moment, my breast fit, my spirits rose, i paraded to the mirror and was faced with this belly which just sticks out like a boulder.
Ah. What to say. No idea what I shall wear on the day.
The next venue, for dress trying was on the other side of town where we not unlike battery chickens where coarsely rushed in and out another set of gowns.
I must say it tired us out. For a while we where done with our wedding dress bout.We annulled the other trips and Becky flew off to England and acquired a dress, and shoes, and bridesmaids outfits in a shop, free of stress other , than well the inevitable presence of mother.
As the date to my wedding day neared, I re fueled my search dropping an eye at the shops in split town. I still liked the idea of silk. But all that duchess, Marie Antoinette, puffed up, complicated frocks this year simply did not do, so i went off to England too.
As it is always it turned out far to much fun, active, sort of holiday and after trips on end with the tube in between encounters with friends hours of stripping clothes only to put them on again seemed a waste of good time.
And than as I toured the old country, my mothers friend had an eureka. She was going to surprise me with a cat show of wedding dresses, which I could try, dresses from her company and she put them all in the car with a plan to hunt me down at Aunt Barbara's ,but i, had not knowing this plan and left, having tired none.
Her sons girlfriend tried the dresses, and they sent me the photograph's, and I had but to chose.
The dresses where beautiful. Satins, silks, chiffon's. Simple shapes. Just long enough trains. I immediately knew the one I wanted to wear . Pam had saved the day, i had no more silly shops to orbit, she put the dress in a box, and sent it away.
After many days of imatience, the dress arrived in Croatia . But woe, here believe it or not, when a post man sees a box, he does not take it to your door to say, how do you do. No, here the post, is a very curious thing, they first of all like to open each box. They nose about and see what is inside. And than make up a customs-tax-sort of fine.
So one has to go to the main post office of the city. And pay to pick up a letter in which they say you cant have it just so.
And if you fight their accusation of you having imported it, and say there is no bill which thex demand, that the package is a gift. They bluntly refuse to accept such a story and still insist on an invocie or make up their own value of the dresses which than they make you pay in the name of the functioning of the state.
The taxes put on my package, mother in law informs me, are there to pave local cities. Right. It took a week going to and fro the post, falsifying bills, filling up papers, calling, smiling, and showing pregnat belly to cut queues to finaly buy the battered box from them .
Only, in the rush of the morning, I had managed to , lock my self out, of the apartment. Had to ride a taxi to the furthest edge of town, tolerate the driwer complaining aobut dog pats all they way and back to have a key which would enable me the privacy to open the box which had all the way been buring at my side.
At last inside. Sizzors attacked the selotape. Two dresses slid out in plastic. I quickly threw of the furs and coat and turned up the radiators, pressed play on the track which always brings me luck, ejecting trousers and socks and shoes. I stripped down to the knickers, pulled off barricades from the hall mirror, and slid my body into satins, eyes full of wonder , teeth reflecting jewels.
To discover, that the size that has been mine for ever has suddenly shrunk. How could this be? I twisted, and jacked my own breasts up and down but they simply ower flowed the gown. I had no idea boobs could ever, be too big. Yet, after the waist I could simpley not do up the zip.
A little de-spirited, I slid the frock off and kicked heels away, only to pick up the real, number one, the dress I will wear on the day.
Its made of ivory chiffon's falling, and satin silk, and antique style jewel's and is simpley dlightfull. I got in ,very slowly , savouring the moment, my breast fit, my spirits rose, i paraded to the mirror and was faced with this belly which just sticks out like a boulder.
Ah. What to say. No idea what I shall wear on the day.
In the woomb.
--
I have existed always in the mind of my father, who knew i would arrive , knew my sex, knows the colour of my eyes, and knows my name. He smiles waiting .
Yet they wait to let me see the light of day before I hear the name. Before i have a date. Before stars bring on horoscopes and names project their personalities..
.
.
I am free..
.
.
I move my feet..
.
.
.
I move my fingers. .
.
I move my hands. .
.
.
.
.
My heart beats..
.
Another heart beats in rhythm to mine, always, sometimes a little faster sometimes slower, and mine follows. I am never alone. There is a voice, it plays ower the sounds of heart beats , that is mother.
There is another voice, deeper, it starts each day when the colour around me darkens,and that i know is father. When i hear it I kick out. The space around me vibrates, and I hear laughter. I kick again and feel the arrival of warmth, something touches me from the outside.
After the voice of father turns on, I am suddenly filled with nutrition. At first I did not know that was happening but now i can recognise different color shades. When mother is alone green and orange things flow into my belly, when fathers voice is near dark red fills my belly and i stretch my hands and feel happy. Than mother turns me upside down. She stops moving. Her beat slows down. Another heartbeat stats beating very close too. Very slowly. And than I suck my thumb and curl my legs and feel very sleepy.
I wake up to the sounds of something alien noisy outside. I hear it every day. The heart beats are still there. But some cushion thing under my feet seems to grow when ever I fall asleep and so I kick the silly cushion thing, and kick and kick until , mother turns me head up, I hear sounds of water, and feel the thing flatting. Every time I hear water, the cushion grows, so as long as I am awake i make it my duty to always kick it down.
I like it when colours change around me, orange, pink, red. I like it when mother moves about to strange rhythms which are not hearts, loudly sounding, which make my hands and legs do circles. When mother is moving i too move and feel like like I am helping.
I am happiest though, when the colours disappear, and I see nothing at all, there are no other sounds, but three hearts beating together. It makes me stretch out my fingers and toes, relax my legs and arms and dream all sorts of colours and sounds.
.
.
I am free..
.
.
I move my feet..
.
.
.
I move my fingers. .
.
I move my hands. .
.
.
.
.
My heart beats..
.
Another heart beats in rhythm to mine, always, sometimes a little faster sometimes slower, and mine follows. I am never alone. There is a voice, it plays ower the sounds of heart beats , that is mother.
There is another voice, deeper, it starts each day when the colour around me darkens,and that i know is father. When i hear it I kick out. The space around me vibrates, and I hear laughter. I kick again and feel the arrival of warmth, something touches me from the outside.
After the voice of father turns on, I am suddenly filled with nutrition. At first I did not know that was happening but now i can recognise different color shades. When mother is alone green and orange things flow into my belly, when fathers voice is near dark red fills my belly and i stretch my hands and feel happy. Than mother turns me upside down. She stops moving. Her beat slows down. Another heartbeat stats beating very close too. Very slowly. And than I suck my thumb and curl my legs and feel very sleepy.
I wake up to the sounds of something alien noisy outside. I hear it every day. The heart beats are still there. But some cushion thing under my feet seems to grow when ever I fall asleep and so I kick the silly cushion thing, and kick and kick until , mother turns me head up, I hear sounds of water, and feel the thing flatting. Every time I hear water, the cushion grows, so as long as I am awake i make it my duty to always kick it down.
I like it when colours change around me, orange, pink, red. I like it when mother moves about to strange rhythms which are not hearts, loudly sounding, which make my hands and legs do circles. When mother is moving i too move and feel like like I am helping.
I am happiest though, when the colours disappear, and I see nothing at all, there are no other sounds, but three hearts beating together. It makes me stretch out my fingers and toes, relax my legs and arms and dream all sorts of colours and sounds.
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