Friday, July 30, 2010

no blog

and there's the fact that when I do, I need to do more, better, the best...quite unreachable

Thursday, July 29, 2010

no blog

well
I did my best
as much as two 300W lamps and a primitive flash can do
with some white sheets...
and black ones for the background...



no blog

rain
Creed/Rain
Can you help me out?
Can you let me a hand?
It's safe to say that
I'm stuck again

Trapped between this life and the light
I just can't figure out
How to make it right

A thousand times before
I've wondered if there's something more
Something more...

I feel it's gonna rain like this for days
So let it rain down and wash everything away
I hope that tomorrow the sun will shine
With every tomorrow comes another life

I feel it's gonna rain
For days and days
I feel it's gonna rain

I tried to figure out
I can understand
What it means to live on again

Trapped between the truth and the consequence
Nothings real
Nothings making sense

A thousand times before
I've wondered if there's something more
[ Creed Lyrics are found on www.songlyrics.com ]
Something more...

I feel it's gonna rain like this for days
So let it rain down and wash everything away
I hope that tomorrow the sun will shine
I feel it's gonna rain like this
Rain like this
Rain like this

Fall down
Wash away my yesterdays
Fall down
http://www.elyricsworld.com/rain_lyrics_creed.html
So let the rain fall down on me

I feel it's gonna rain like this for days
Let it rain down and wash everything away
I hope that tomorrow the sun will shine
I feel it's gonna rain like this
Rain like this
Rain like this

I feel it's gonna rain like this
Rain like this

I feel it's gonna rain like this
I feel it's gonna rain...


Wednesday, July 28, 2010

no blog

destination=infinity
preservation=anxiety
occupation=unsociability
story=sordidness

POINT?
leverage

TUNNEL VISION

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

brez besed

21/6/09


Kadar pomislim na horizont, pogledam predse in vidim konec, nek konec, za katerim ni ničesar, ne novega začetka, ne smrti. Konec je nekaj močnega, nekaj pestrega, nekaj kar bi poizkusila, če bi le mislila, da obstaja možnost za preklic tega, za vrnitev, za nazaj, ampak konec je to ravno zato, ker je ni poti nazaj…
Ni je bilo poti, ne naprej ne nazaj, kako bedno, zato sem sedla v avto in odpeljala proti horizontu s fotoaparatom. Nisem imela namena zabeležiti nek konec na spominsko kartico, ampak le poslikati horizont, s koncem, zahajajočim soncem in tik nad tem grozečimi nevihtnimi oblaki.
Sladko-kisla kombinacija, sladka bleščeča zvezda, ki je dajala življenje, se je utapljala v temno zeleno morje, preveč mirno, da bi kdo od nas, lokalnih prebivalcev lahko pomislil, da ne grozi nevihta, in to taka, konkretna, več kot samo pestra nevihta. Morje, skoraj trideset stopinj Celzija toplo, julij, dva tedna nečloveških osemintrideset stopinj vročine podnevi in preko petindvajset ponoči. Zrak, bolj podoben vročemu čaju, kot nečemu, kar naj bi dihali, muhe, ki se pobesnelo zaletavajo ena v drugo v višini naših glav, bleščeče kože pod mokrimi grivami, pod čepicami, slamniki, sončnimi očali in skrajno nejevoljnimi pogledi ljudi, vse to je govorilo o koncu, ki se je vil s horizonta. Nejevolja je prelila vse kar se je gibalo, tako ljudi kot živali, rastlinje je otožno slonelo proti žgoči suhi skorji, ki naj bi bila zemlja, razpoke so segale desetine centimetrov v zemljo, kot gube na obrazih mladih in manj mladih, nespečnost je postajala pravilo, splošna nervoza je povozila vsako racionalno razmišljanje, razmišljanje sploh je postalo nekaj, kar je še dodatno otežilo že tako vroč čaj, ki naj bi ga dihali… Ob vsem tem pa še gneča… Ljudje so prihajali ravno tja, kjer je bila gostota vlage v zraku podobna tisti v morju, češ, kopanje olajša življenje, morje je zakon, vsi na morje, v to juho, kjer so se celo ribe potile…! Bolezen, imenovana dopust, ki se je kazala s simptomi potrebe po morju, je postajala pandemična, ker je vročina skuhala sive celice v glavah, kajti samo slabih sto kilometrov severno od te naše juhe, je bilo gorovje, dva tisoč metrov visoko, kjer so bile nevihte malo bolj pogoste, manj apokaliptične, predvsem pa, ponoči si je bilo treba nadeti dolge rokave, kar je bilo nekaj samomorilskega za obalne temperaturne razmere.
Vendar si sama nisem mogla omisliti takih sto kilometrov, po neprespani noči, po neprespanem dnevu, tik pred večerom, ki ne bi vodil v nočni počitek, pred dnem in nato večerom, ko bi znova dežurala in vtikala cevi v želodce polne strupenih substanc, jeklene igle v žile, držanjem kričečih otrok, potrebnih šivov nekje na telesu, kisika potrebnih babic in dedkov, v upanju, da ne bi stresali nikogar z elektriko, da sploh ostane kaj, potrebnega vsega tistega pred tem… Sama misel na dežurstvo je pognala gube še malo globlje na mojem obrazu, gube, ki sem jih že leta in leta skušala obvladati z raznimi kremami, masažami, čemerkoli, samo, da bi zaustavila čas, ki se je tako neusmiljeno vtiral vame. Tu in tam sem sedla pred računalnik in gledala fotografije prelepih konjev, ki jih je slikal moj prijatelj in se spraševala čemu vse to, ko pa ni kreme, ki bi pomagala proti zabitosti… Na zidu ravno nasproti sedeža, kjer sem počivala boljše kot v postelji, so bili kolobarji vse od svetlo rumene do bledo zelene barve, večji in manjši, segajoči en čez drugega, na rumeni podlagi, z krvavo rdečim svodom, ki se je raztezal od vhoda do kopalnice. Rdeče, rumene in oranžne barve je bilo stanovanje, s kopalnico v viola-rožnatem, s slikami na plastični peni, brez okvirjev, ki so prekrivale vsaj četrtino površine vseh zidov, z reflektorji uperjenimi v strope rdeče barve, ki so ustvarjali občutek, da se ves čas dogaja sončni zahod, malimi detajli, kot so bile vazice modernih oblik, keramična posoda s sadjem nenavadnih oblik in barv, črno-rdeče rjuhe, črna postelja, ki bi bila preveč moderna samo za babico moje babice, še eno pisalno mizo, ki je bila preveč moderna za mojo hči, tremi televizijami, zvočniki ki so prekrivali kar je ostalo prostega po zidovih in zavesami vsepovsod, da ja ne bi kdo videl, kaj skrivajo najbolj navadna vhodna vrata na svetu. Le kopalnico sem sovražila. Vijolični odtenki so bili vse kar sem lahko vlila v ta prostor, kar bi bilo v kontrastu z običajnim. Običajnost je bilo nekaj, kar ni obstajalo v mojem slovarju, bila je krema proti gubam, ki je učinkovala dosti bolje kot tista, ki sem jo kupila v lekarni in porabila za to krepke denarce. Barve, detajli, Erikove slike, elektronika in kreme, pa so izginile kot dan pred dežurstvom, čim sem izstopila iz hiške. Japonke, kratke hlače, majica brez rokav in torba, daljša od moje hrbtenice, vsakdanji avtomobil, sončna očala, koralna verižica za vratom, ena na gležnju in tetovaža od ramena do boka, ki je ni prekrila niti torba. Bila sem nekaj, kar si odrasel, zaposlen, samski moški, ne zapomni. Bila sem nekdo, ki je to ni zanimalo, ker sem rada sedela pred računalnikom, odrinila pod grozeče oblake, s torbo, v kratkih hlačah, brez ličil, odeta v rdeče korale, kadarkoli se mi je to zahotelo.
Sonce se je dotaknilo temno zelene vode, zgornji rob je pravkar zapustil debelo odejo oranžno sivih odtenkov in naslonila sem nekoliko olajšano telo na zidek ter se zazrla naokoli po povsem prazni plaži. Slišalo se je žvenketanje kozarcev iz bližnjega gostinskega lokala, kjer so delavci hiteli pospravljati teraso, ker je zapihal prvi sunek vetra, ki je napovedoval popolno umiritev čez nekaj minut, nato pa velikega brata tega sunka, ki bi odnesel s sabo tudi kako streho skupaj z mizami s kozarci in priborom. Gosti so zbežali, ker so natakarji vedeli kaj se bo zgodilo in jih posvarili, poleg tega se jim najbrž v nedeljo zvečer ni več ljubilo niti preganjati gostov, kaj šele streči. Vzdolž vsega horizonta ni bilo enega samega plovila, vremenska služba je javila vsem naj se privežejo. Levo je bilo videti le nič, desno pa predzadnja dva optimista, ki sta obupala zaradi enega sunka vetra, brez vedeti, kaj ta pomeni. Moški so imeli nekakšno zabavo na samem obrobju plaže, na kamnitem opuščenem pomolu, ki je vodil le naprej na divjo plažo, kjer so se kopali naturalisti. Pet ali šest ljudi je bilo tam, a le dva sta vstala in se pričela zibati proti meni. Moški, v kratkih hlačah namesto kopalk, brez očal, z rdečo kožo po vsem popoldnevu na žgočem soncu, z alkoholom, ki bi jih pripeljal samo do dežurnih zdravnikov in nato cevi v usta, če ne bi zapihalo, so bili videti kot prijatelji, zbrani na tem zadnjem koncu sveta s severa kontinenta, v proslavljanju odsotnosti žena, ali kaj podobnega… Ni bilo slišati krohotanja, kot da zdravijo mačka po sobotnem potepanju, kot da so hoteli zbiti klin s klinom, kot da bi jim to bil zadnji večer, preden bi se vrnili v rutino, ki ni zajemala rdeče, rumene in oranžne barve po zidovih, v patetičnost smrtnika, ki ima dovolj, da bi lahko odšel na morje nekam, kjer je morje podobno slani vodi z ribami, ne pa juhi, tako obremenjeni z zakonom, ki je nosil krilo, da so morali v ta zadnji kot starega sveta, da jih ne bi odkrile. Ni se jim sanjalo, da proletariat tega konca sveta sili navzven skozi vsako špranjo, da premore banke, ki delijo kredite, da si delavec kupi igračo vredno pet do šest proletarskih plač, da pozabijo za kako uro na službo in gredo slikat take, ki kupijo fotoaparat namesto rogljiča za zajtrk in delijo kredite brez papirjev, potem pa polomijo kak ud, najmanj, če ne dobijo štirikratne vsote posojila nazaj v le kakem tednu. Slikajo jih in nalagajo slike na internet, na oči vsem šestim milijardam ljudi na svetu…
Ampak teh šest moških mogoče tedaj celo ni bilo takih, ti so bili tam samo zaradi počitka pred rutino. Dva sta se odmajala mimo mene, štirje so ostali še malo. Trije se niso menili za vreme, en pa je gledal v oblake, skoraj nad našimi glavami. Sedel je s pokrčenima nogama, objemal kolena. Držal je plastičen kozarec v roki, na pol poln in s tako pozitivnim pogledom tudi zazrl vame.
En velik mir, mir, kot ta, ki je legel med prvim sunkom vetra in drugim, ki bi zapihal čez nekaj minut. Mir, po osebi, duši, imenu in horoskopu… Mir, ki se je zlil name tako kot bi se dež, čez nekaj minut. Mir, ki kljub besnenju narave, ne bi poškodoval enega samega lasu na moji glavi. Mir, ki je deloval kot ščit pred naravo, pred svetlobo, ki je oslepila ostale tri, dotlej nedotaknjene prijatelje, zvokom, ki je stresel beton pod mojima nogama. Oči so gledale vame, in delovale kot pol metra debel, steklen, neprebojen, skafander. Mir, ki je ustavil začetni sunek velikega brata, tako da me ni zaneslo nazaj, kot prijatelje. Mir, ki se je zadržal s tem lastnim mirom, počasi vstal, spustil oči proti neredu, ki bi ga morali pustiti tam, ker ni bilo več časa, druga strela je zadela sredi zaliva, v morje, tako blizu, da je dvignilo dlake kvišku zaradi elektrike, vendar osredotočen samo name. Prijatelji so pospešili korak in ko so bili pred mano že tekli, a mir je dvignil ponovno pozornost. Lahko bi bil pijan, tako zelo pijan, da ga ne zanima, če bo naslednja strela udarila vanj, lahko bi bilo pa tudi soka v tistem plastičnem kozarcu, takega soka, ki tudi z vso dobro voljo, ne bi mogel nikoli fermentirati, samo splesnel bi, če ga ne bi spil. Iz nekega nepojasnljivega razloga, sem gledala v mir, mirna kot nikoli dotlej, gluha, brez perifernih živcev, s torbo pred svojima nogama in mirom pred očmi. Skafander se je zmanjšal, okrepil, mir pa ni dovolil več niti svetlobi, da bi zmotila vse to, ne-dogajanje. Ni se dogajalo, ni se zgodilo, ni bilo podobno ničemer, niti koncu… Neka barva je bila, neprepoznavna, bila je, pa še v to nisem bila prepričana in trenutek zatem so pričeli delati moji živci. Začutila sem nežno božanje kapelj na svojem obrazu. Ena je pomočila vse moje čelo, drug nos in pol obraza, tretja veko in drugo polovico obraza, četrta…, pričele so padati prehitro, da bi jih lahko štela. Mir pa je dobil neko neprepoznavno barvo in velika in težka torba postala lažja. Bile so kaplje, veliko kapelj, združenih v curke, mir, oči brez barve, barva ki je dvignila torbo in stroboskopsko divjanje narave, ki ni moglo skozi skafander. Odsotnost zvoka, svetlobe, zraka, pameti in časa, popoln absurd, kaos, ki je tako kaotičen, da ima red. Red, ki je dobil četrto dimenzijo, ker so se tri odnesle le kak centimeter pred mano v prho skozi katero ni bilo videti. Čas je dobil, čas, ki je bil videti, kot da se nama je ustavil.
Mimo naju je priletel plastičen stol, udaril je ob ulično svetilko, ki se je zazibala vse do horizontalnih linij, nato je udarilo ob mojo ramo, pa glavo, nato roki in skafander je pospešil, skupaj z mano in z mojo torbo. Ustavil se je pred lesenimi vrati in se obrnil vame. Mir, popoln mir je imel neko barvo, gledal je vame, spraševal, če razumem, brez da bi odprl usta, ampak na glavi so padale ledene kepe velike kot orehi in to je bolelo in motilo mir.
Z mene je kapljalo, s torbe je kapljalo, z njega je kapljalo, tri luže so se združevale v eno veliko na keramiki bele barve. Belina je silila skozi polkna tako pogosto, kot je udarjalo v mojih prsih srce. Udarjalo je, ampak le močno, ne pa hitro, močno in mirno, in mir je dobil odtenek. Ni bil več samo mir, ki je ščitil moja ušesa pred zvokom, ki je prodiral skozi kožo, ni me stresalo grmenje, niti njega ni, ničesar nisem slišala, občutila sem mir… Topel mir, ki je premaknil čop las z mojih oči. Nekaj ni dovolilo, da bi videla jasno, ni bila tema, ker ni bilo temno, ni bila belina, ki bi me spravila v protest nad neizvirnostjo ljudi, ni bila voda, ki si je iskala pot po mojem vratu, da bi zmočila povsem mokro majico, ni bila niti kaplja na mojih trepalnicah, ki je zlezla vse do ust, ko jo je k temu prisilil topel prst. Ničesar ni bilo, ki bi vznemiril tisti nem mir,…niti barva. Barva, bila je toplejša kot sončni zahod, ki sem ga ustvarila s svetili in idejo o rumeni na zidu, bila je toplejša kot kava po prespani noči. Bila je globlja od čustev, ki sem jih gojila do sebe, dobrih in slabih, bila je sijoča, bolj sijoča od sonca, ki je skrajšal ekspozicijski čas na hitrost zvoka, ki potuje skozi zlato, bila je tako prodorna, da je ustavila pretok napetosti v moji glavi. Prekinila je vse stike med sinapsami, prekinila bi dihanje, če le ne bi naslonila svoje tople kože na mojo. Čutila sem, pa čeprav ni bilo pretoka v mojih možganih. Čutila sem, pa ni bilo niti toliko pomembno samo dejstvo da čutim, ampak to, da sem čutila, da čuti vse to tudi Mir.
Čutil je, to je bila barva, mir je ostal nepojasnjen, skafander se je povečal vse do zidov bele barve, oken, balkonskih vrat, lesa, ob katero sta udarjala toča in veter in bliskanje je udarjalo le še ob njegovi dlani na mojem obrazu in zatilje, nekje zadaj… Dišalo je, po dežju, po morju, po sladkemu, kot dišijo kreme za sončenje. Dišalo je in drselo. Drseli so prsti, vzdolž mojih reber, za seboj so puščali naježeno kožo, ker je majica ščitila pred mrazom in pred prsti, preden je pričela lesti navzgor, z mene… V vsem miru je lezlo po meni, iz mene, name, in slišala sem samo še dihanje in cepet štirih bosih nog po keramiki bele barve. Veliko bleščeče telo, kupčki mišic v paru, v popolnem skladju z vsake strani telesa, ki se sploh ni prilegalo patetični belini prostora. Veliko telo, roki, noben kos nakita, niti ročna ura, le pari kupčkov mišic pod čokoladno kožo. Par rok, ki sta lezli po meni, sicer prav tako čokoladne barve, vendar daleč od perfektnega skladja, ki sta ga bila zmožna ustvariti le Bog in Michelangelo, a Mir se ni zmenil za to, dobil je barvo, vonj, tri dimenzije in niti zvok ni bil potreben, še več, ni bil zaželen… Zvok je izginil, in ostala sva dva, ki sva vedela…
Mati božja nebeška, sveta in zlata, če bi verjela v obstoj Boga, bi mu v tistem trenutku zakričala hvala. Po meni je lil mir, ustvarjal nemir v celicah, ki so pele devetdeseto simfonijo, pele, prepevale, kričale v mojih tkivih po šeeee…, iskale še, dobile še! Posušila sva se, ampak koža je bila bleščeča, vsa koža v prostoru, oba največja organa, oba čokoladna največja organa. Imelo me je da spustim s pljuč kar je pelo pod kožo, imelo me je da zagrmim kot narava zunaj, ker je bil med mojima nogama, pod mojim obrazom, nekje med desno in levo roko sam Bog, en velik, sladek, opojen Bog, ki je mehko stiskal moja boka in narahlo pomagal med dviganjem in spuščanjem, brez pospeševati, brez da bi utiral lastno voljo, in sem spustila glavo, ker je nisem mogla več zadržati, in odprla oči, in videla le še nekaj trenutkov, preden je ostal nekje v defokusu, nekje za sladkobo, nekje v času, obvisel, samo da bi krč sladkobe trajal malo dlje, samo še del trenutka več, le še malo dlje…, in sem slišala, zaslišala sem lasten glas, nekaj glasu podobnega, ki je ustvarilo prostor in dimenzije, in njega, ki je stisnil malo močneje, in se napel, in zagrizel nič v ustih, ter tako ustavil glas. Ni imel glasu, ni mi hotel podariti še tega, bila sem smrtnik, on pa Bog, in bila sem blažena, in ni me zanimalo, če ga sploh ima… Brez volje in brez obotavljanja ali protesta, sem samo sledila njegovim dlanem nanj. Legla sem nanj, dihala, zravnala nogi in imela popolnoma prazno in povsem sladko glavo. Roki sta zlezli k tej, zlezli gor in objeli prav vso glavo, prste je vrinil v mokre lase, in donelo je po vsej sobi. Veliko srce je delalo tako glasno, da bi ga slišala tudi če ne bi bila prislonjena na prsi z ušesom, ampak nožnim palcem. Bila sem kot punčka v maminem objemu, po tem ko je padla in podrsala koleno. Bila sem kot mati, ki objame dojenčka in nasloni glavo nanj, ker poka po šivih od ljubezni, od sreče, od kdo ve česa vsega ne. Nisem analizirala ničesar, nisem mogla, imela sem prazno glavo, samo sladkega je bilo tam. Bila sem v banji polni perja in sladkobe, najmehkejše mlado gosje perje, belo, sladko kot mlečna čokolada, toplo… Nikjer ni žulilo, nikjer ni stiskalo, nič ni bilo mokrega ali lepljivega, nobenega motečega detajla, ki bi me sicer pognal v kopalnico, oprhati s sebe občutek krivde, z milom in gobo, do dobrega, ker je kot smola iglavca, ki noče s kože in z duše, kadar ji dovolim, da se dotakne moje kože. Nebeško je bilo, s samim gospodarjem neba ni moglo biti drugače, in čeprav ne bi mogla zaspati niti če bi mi ustrelili naravnost v srce kak slonovski anestetik, sem komaj-komaj držala veke narazen. Nekje med enim in drugim poizkusom tega se je umirilo, narava se je odločila, da imamo za tisti večer zadosti kazni, da tako mačehovsko delamo z njo. Nekje med poizkusi zadržanja budnosti, se je umirilo tudi srce, ki je dajalo ritem tej barvi. Nekje med vsem tem je pojenjala tudi sladkoba, oddaljevala se je v spomin. Ostala bi tam za vedno, zadržala bi se v samem ospredju zelo dolgo. Dolgo bi bilo to edino, kar bi podoživljala, pa čeprav sem pogosto sanjarila o dobrem seksu s popolnim tujcem. Seks ni bil samo seks, bil je mir, Bog, nebeško…, nekaj neponovljivega, nekaj, kar sem imela pred svojim obrazom, pa čeprav v tistem trenutku ne bi mogla trditi, da sem zares doživela. Kot da bi gledala najboljši film svojega življenja, gledala in se postavila v vlogo prve igralke, ampak še vedno brez vedeti, če to tudi sem, ali si samo zamišljam. Še nikoli prej nisem doživljala svojih fantazij tako intenzivno, ker čeprav sem imela zelo pestro domišljijo, je bil ta Božji Mir veliko preveč detajlov, daleč preveč perfekten je bil, popoln od črnega dolgega čopa, ki je silil na njegovo čelo, do prsta na nogi, ki je lezel s postelje. Nekje med enim in drugim poizkusom, da bi ostala budna, je pristal na trebuhu, jaz pa na njegovi roki na drugem boku. Dlan je imel pod mojim gležnjem, prsti pa so ga stisnili, ko se je obrnil, potem pa spustili, ko je nazaj zaspal. Spal je, kot angel… Angelska krila so mehko slonela na njegovem hrbtu. Nič večja od mojih dlani s prsti niso bila. Slonela sta na trapezastih mišicah nekoliko razprta, kot ob pristanku, oziroma pred vzletom. Angel s krili in orhideja, oba brez zgodovine, brez prihodnosti, brez več kot kože in sladkega pod to…
Gledal je vame, nekje med predzadnjim in zadnjim poizkusom ostati budna, je odprl oči. Gledal je vame tako mirno, da nisem vedela, če zrejo vame le oči brez življenja, ali plastika izklesana po modelu, ki bi ga skiciral Michelangelo.
'Ne odhajaj', je bilo slišati s teh oči. Usta so bila zaprta.
'Ne odhajaj zdaj, ne prav zdaj, zdaj ko bi si želel objeti to težko glavo, glavo, s katere ne spere nemir nič, niti tako huda nevihta, ki mi je navsezadnje pomagala. Dovoli mi seči ponovno v lase, ker kričiš po še, po rokah, po miru… Zakaj moraš zbežati v svoj nemir, ko pa si tako lepa, kadar odidejo misli s te glave.', ni odprl usta.
Gledala sem v oči, niso bile široko odprte, niso bile priprte, mirne, tako lepe in bleščeče, tako glasno so govorile, in govorile in prosile, nekaj, karkoli, samo da ne odidem…
'Ne odhajaj, deklica, ker ti nočem nič, obljubim ti lahko mir, ker je ta tisti, ki odnese oba v nebesa. Nimam ničesar, nimam niti glasu, imam pa krila, imam krila in če hočeš leteti, te vzamem k sebi. Nesel te bom gor, nesem te v oblake, v mir, v raj, tja kamor ne moreš sama, ker si odrezala svoja. Dovoli mi biti tvoj zrak, dovoli mi biti zemlja po kateri hodiš, tečeš igriva in razposajena, polna življenja, polna želja, polna skrivnosti, ki jih boš delila le z mano. Dovoli mi biti tvoja največja skrivnost in tvoja glasba, tvoja hrana, tvoja blazina, ko boš imela težko glavo. Dovoli mi biti voda, ki te odžeja, odeja, ki te segreje, veter, ki skuštra lase in prsti, ki jih zravnajo. Dovoli mi biti tvoja koža, ki te ščiti pred soncem, dežjem in nevihtami… Dovoli mi biti tvoj glas, ko si boš želela kričati, ker boš ranjena in ščit, ki ne bo dovolil nikomur, da stopi do tebe, se te dotakne, ali samo pogleda vate… Dovoli mi biti roka, ki zgradi grad vrh hriba, nad dolinami, oceani in polji, ki se ti bojo klanjali, ker boš kraljica, moja kraljica, kraljica najine kraljevine. Dovoli mi biti gozd, ki bo pel pesmi, ko se boš sprehajala po tem, z roko v moji roki, ki te bo vodila med pastmi in nevarnostmi. Daj mi roko…', je odmevalo med štirimi belimi zidovi, obsijanimi s svetlobo, ki je svetila v mokrem hladnem svetu zunaj, tam, kjer se je končal ves mir… Angel ni letel, ležal je na mehkemu, prosil za mojo roko, popolnoma mirno, brez glasu…
Nisem pogledala v roko, bila je nekje pred mano, pred mano, pred njim, vmes…
'Ne odhajaj… zunaj zebe, zunaj piha, tvoja oblačila so mokra, avto je daleč, nikamor se ti ne mudi, podaril sem ti brezčasje, lahko traja v nedogled, za vedno…'
Nemir je zlezel vzdolž mojih nog…
'Ne odhajaj…', je glasno donelo med štirimi belimi zidovi, brez da bi kateri odprl usta.
Mehko je zlezlo s stopal in ledena keramika je pognala mraz globoko v nogi.
'Ne odhajaj, daj mi roko, krila imam, letim, letela si z menoj, leti še naprej…, leti z mano… Odleti z mano…', molk je rinil v mojo glavo kot debele kirurške igle, z vseh strani je prodiral vame…
'Lezi sem, na krila, na toplo, v mir…'
Zravnala sem se in gledala. Oči so šle za mojimi.
'Ne odhajaj, deklica, prosim…', je donelo že tako glasno, da sem čutila kako mi stiska grlo, me duši…
'Ne…', je še glasneje zagrmelo, tako močno je stisnilo, da sem bila nenadoma zunaj, naga, mokra, sama, gluha, slepa in s tako blazno težko utežjo na sebi, da me je stisnilo k tlom, na kolena…
Gluha, slepa, premražena, mokra in sama sem sedla v topel avto. Prižgala sem luči, glasbo, cigareto in dvignila obraz. Videla sem cesto, slišala zvoke, ki sem jih še predobro poznala, viti se iz zvočnikov z leve in desne, čutila tresljaje v stopalki, sapo, ki je pognala zrak nazaj v moja pljuča, nato pa videla še enkrat, še zadnjič angela, kako gleda za menoj. Na postelji, tako kot sem ga zapustila je bil, izza belega zidu, izza lesenih polken, izza vsega sveta…, brez besed. 





Madonna - Drowned World (Substitute For Love)






whoaaa...
I love this song...

madonna/substitute for love



I traded fame for love
Without a second thought
It all became a silly a game
Some things cannot be bought

I got exactly what I asked for
Wanted it so badly
Running, rushing back for more
I suffered fools so gladly

And now I find
I've changed my mind

The face of you
My substitute for love
My substitute for love
Should I wait for you
My substitute for love
My substitute for love

I traveled round the world
Looking for a home
I found myself in crowded rooms
Feeling so alone

I had so many lovers
Who settled for the thrill
Of basking in my spotlight
I never felt so happy

Mmmmm, ooohhh, mmmmm
Famous faces, far off places
Trinkets I can buy
No handsome stranger, heady danger
Drug that I can try
No ferris wheel, no heart to steal
No laughter in the dark
No one-night stand, no far-off land
No fire that I can spark
Mmmmm, mmmmm

Now I find I've changed my mind
This is my religion 

no blog

Getting older...
who says that this means getting wiser?
No wiser, just older.
Still falling jaws when coming across some hansom neighbour!, still listening to disco music, still moving and shaking extremities when this music's is the right one, still making silly faces, playing, whispering to imaginary person under the shower, still having fantasies about princes and horses, white one's or black one's...still searching for light, still crying for happy ending or the opposite, still wishing toys, big or small, when it's not necessary for preservation it's a toy..., still trying on new clothes, searching for the best ribbon in our hair, best watch for our outfit, best car for the same reason, best...everything...or-still making same mistakes, still saying bad words, still getting mad when it's not our way...still wondering when we see something new, that we seen a thousand times before..., still home-work, still learning, still forgetting, always being in competition with someone or something, still being judged.
just wrinkles, those are the only ones that makes us older...or seem older..., but the heart does'n have them, right?

but mother nature has a challenge, the all mighty  Photoshop!! the end to DNA and the best cure for wrinkles and the rest...:)

for all those who steel don't have wrinkles on their hearts...
just for them
the rest of you needs to find youth somewhere else...



oh, by the way, talking about youth...I apologise for the dirty mirror here :)

Sunday, July 25, 2010

no blog

"It's like a dream come true", says Johnny..., but I'm not Alice, and my dreams are far more fabulous...
I even wouldn't need an architect to make it standing, or Kevin :)
I would need some nice guy from TSR that would share his creation with others, and me..., a little something of a personal touch and voile, there, on the top of the hill, facing the beautiful Adriatic sunsets..., with some money that would fall from the sky, I could do it
:)

BUT
Maxxxooo didn't come, what a news!?, and I didn't go out to take photos, what a news!?, but I did some stuff here, yeah, that's a news!
Storms all the day, very very nice 25°C outside in the middle of the day, had the best nap ever, with F1..., not a news...
Helped sis'ta, with a program, remote control...it didn't work, so, all together, a nice day...









































Saturday, July 24, 2010

no blog

Where the hell am I?...

OK, going on a tour, just because and grabbing my cell phone out, just because, and clicking, just because the sky was falling down...and get this!


























I mean, come-on, please...can I have this much of a 'pure-ass'????!!!!!?
I could stand in a glass bell for hours, chasing thunder storms, thunders...like forever, and I wouldn't get it this good, and with some ten thousand Euro of optics in my hand...not a cell-phone!!

OK
I caught a lightning in some impossible way, and I bumped into my young hansom neighbour...The young man is becoming really hansom...really really...hot!

Monday, July 19, 2010

no blog

geee...
I dreamt about me being pregnant!? Three weeks, two blue lines were actually three blue lines..., they said boy, don't ask how did they know and who are they, it's a dream...
The father?
Glasses, or the other one...but the scale inclined to glasses... heavily...wow
I wasn't worried, yet, I was happy, still, all I could think about, I could be worried about, a little...very little, was where would I put the crib!
There's a pattern...one pattern...!
When a bunch of women works with just a few men, they tent to start to feel involved with them. There's no importance if it's a heavily skilled group of co-workers or not, I'm not a man, but probably it's the same with men...
competition, we always tent to get the best, and if the choice is between one or two, it's not important who are they or how good looking any more...
anthropology
Month have passed but glasses still live...
interesting...

a very very old image I made, dated...I don't know, I think about 5 years ago, maybe 6

Friday, July 16, 2010

no blog

everybody's talking about the heat

it's 29.1°C here now, inside in the dark, 8:18 in the morning...

tomorrow will be worst they say....

crickets are louder then the motorcycle that passed by and leafs on the apricot tree that I'm watching outside the window aren't moving at all

I saw two seagulls taking shower on the fountain of the roundabout.... beautiful scene, pity I haven't got my camera with me...

Yesterday I was thinking what would I do with 30 millions of dollars, if I suddenly got them...

Kevin's house, of course, would be the first, no attention to expenses on materials, save the nature, excellent insulation, rational space management, recycled stuff to be used for everything possible and no raw wood for furniture...

A car, obviously, not expensive but useful, safe and ecologically friendly. Probably a hybrid for everyday and a bigger one for travelling.

An investment, no need for quick money so no stock exchange games, a good off-shore bank account and taking off the investment income annually...

Now comes the rest...
A Nikon D3s, faster cheaper, far enough for me.

Nikkor 17-35mm f/2.8D IF-ED AF-S

Nikkor 24-70mm f/2.8G ED AF-S 

Nikkor 70-200mm f/2.8G ED VR II AF-S 

Nikkor 105mm f/2.8G IF-ED AF-S VR Micro

maybe later a telephoto like 400mm or more
a good tripod, bag and two flashes, spare batteries and some nice filters for all those lenses.

All togetheis... 4.750
                    +2.000
                    +1.800
                    +2.370
                    +   800
                    +   300(two batteries)
                    +1.000(tripod)
                    +1.000(UV lens caps and circular polarisers) 
                    +1.000(flashes and a bag)
                    +1.000(the rest, cleaning kit, remote control, etc.. )
           
                   =16.020

a very expensive hobby, and more if you think that you have to travel eventually to get nice photos, or visit desired destinations to get those nice photos...

I did my bag, now all I have to do is play the lottery
:()
:)
;)


Thursday, July 15, 2010

no blog

Google's asking if I'm feeling lucky...

not quite...
The weather's heavy, too heavy for any thoughts..., I don't play lottery, I don't go to the beach, heading for home as soon as possible, home's comfortably chilly, I don't go out late, mosquitoes bite heavily, I have an excuse for everything ...
having luck it's a point of view...
Geeee....everything's buzzing out here, loud, very loud, like in a swamp!
Hardly waiting for some rain, even stormy one...


Wednesday, July 14, 2010

no blog

Reflections

people tend to give advices to people that deal with problems, big or small or incomprehensibly awful ones
people don't know how to address them, don't know how to deal, manage with friends that are in this kind of situation, they know that hurts, but haven't got a clue what does that mean... people then reach for the only solution they know, advice, without being able to realise that it's the first thing they shouldn't do...to give advice...
but we are people...and we function this way...
so
what has to be done...
if you talk like nothing happen, you fear to be shallow, careless, you tent to pay attention not to touch the soft spot, to open old sores, and your friend feels that, and it's all in vane...
so, some of friends just listen, but that mostly doesn't help in anyway, just keeps the problem alive...
what to do...
nothing
people with problems has to deal with their problems by themselves, as good as they can do...

we should keep in mind that we are our best doctors, we can heal ourselves the best there can be done...
either crying or laughing, drinking, talking, not talking, thinking about it, trying not to or close ourselves in the last corner of this ugly world and wait until it goes a away...at least a little more away...

just keep in mind, my friend, I'm just human...and I don't know what are you dealing with, but I feel some deep compassion for you..., just that, just a human being feeling great sympathy, trying to empathise and  reaching out my hand for you...it's there, if you wont it or not, I won't stretch it grabbing, just that...


believe it or not...
someday it will start to fade, no need to feel guilty, it's just human...you wont forget, you'll just think less and have longer and longer periods of other thoughts...
I have no idea what's like to be in such deep mourning, but you have no idea what did I went through, so...open minded...and as a moment dictates...silence, words, fun, tears...


Dedicated to all of them, that feels human
....................................... in pain or empathy............................................we are all naked under...

no blog

It's like getting started again..., only easier... frictional, like completely plastered, doing fine anyway...


bad bad bad day yesterday, ending in a good way...

did a couple of hours of PS for help...

hot heavy weather, bumping on us like hammers with the air density similar to soup...hot dense beef broth!


Monday, July 12, 2010

no blog



unpublished tree







































unpublished macro


























unpublished people



















































unpublished postcard






















unpublished art



























unpublished Zagreb

Sunday, July 11, 2010

no blog

Who's winning today?
My lady doctor's almost sun or the mysterious stranger at my eleven o'clock or the hansom naughty rookie model or that neuropsychiatric that uses the old laica when off duty?
All of them...
Today everybody wins...

Saturday, July 10, 2010

no blog

guess what_
crashed
all of them
XP first with some nasty win32 trojan pig or shit or whatever
tried to re-install it, but the bastard tricked me and formatted the whole fucking system...ok
it was an ugly copy, so I reinstalled win 7...
the only nice thing was that almost all the biggest programs remained untouched...safe and sound and working...
except Sims 3 ...shit!!
Need the whole fucking day to make things work again...to this point at least..., well, excluding the nap time... two hours of it...beautiful hours, nice chilly area, nice quiet neighbourhood, nice 'nothing' on history channel.., nice careless two hours...
OK
my system took three hours of my non-precious time
:)


Friday, July 9, 2010

no blog

some questions and answers, keep in mind that not every answer is a solution

you can't sleep?
that's probably because you're not tired enough...

feeling guilty?
well, you probably are

having trouble with your own personality?
to pee against the wind makes you wet and dirty! try the bathroom

having trouble with words? you feel like you can't express yourself? what you said isn't what they understood?
shut up and mind your own business, they'll never do, your mind is your prison, you'll get use to it, they wont...and if you need help, use the best company ever established, the big daddy, Google...he' searching word by word, not what that could mean...

still no answer?
get a dog from the asylum, call him Bob, you'll never know what it understand, but go where you show and it never pee against the wind, all you need is a corner...it keeps you busy, makes you smile, focus your anger, improves your social needs, makes girls stop for a second or two more by your side(if you use a halter)and it uses less then a tenth of what you need to feel fed...it isn't picky, young, old, short, tall, brown or bold, it likes them all and it's never going to be persecuted for alimony! I said Bob, not Anna...

living in a small flat on the twenty-first floor in the middle of the down-town?
it's really time to let your mum's skirt go, get a van, I never said that Bob is a German Sheppard. You can still sing in the shower, watch football games, drink soda or get drunk by your self, you won't be judged, and be miserable as before...

if you do that, move from mum, stay in a van, get a small ugly bastard, you're on the bottom already, it won't get worst, the only way is up now...you're life has a chance to turn around, because if there's some lower point, like...six feet beneath, that's really non of your problem, if there's a true, it is the fact, that you CANNOT bury yourself!

good luck,
I never said that big daddy's answers are picked up from a fairytale...


Thursday, July 8, 2010

no blog

well, the sun rises and sets, sometimes it's a poker, sometimes a pair of colour, sometimes it's red, sometimes blue, sometimes it's mail, sometimes 'meil', sometimes it's just wrong, sometimes isn't...

sometimes there's just no answer, and sometimes there's no questions, but anyway, it's the day after, that has the right one...one or the other...

sometimes a getaway is all you need, and sometimes you just can not have it...and sometimes it isn't quite the right thing to do, or the most cleaver...
but to run is as natural as rise an arm when threatened

I need to run more often...

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

no blog

obviously, it's like a thunderstorm, it is, it may do a lot of damage, it can kill, it can scare to death, or it can  just irrigate crops...and then...the sun will rise again, or stars, on some point...
no one's dead...
it's just that lack of ...everything(today)...
it can be so confusing, perplexing, irritating, unsettling, nauseas, without rhyme or reason, mean, this life..., that can drive me mad..., make's me flee, say what I shouldn't, mustn't, it's forbidden...

I called mum, MUM, my MOTHER..., just to hear that somebody cares about me, somebody loves me, somebody is there to listen, to help with that, just to be there when needed, and she was there, she listened, I really love her for that today, today I can say after ages, that I love her...

It makes me cry, must be chemistry bouncing round my cells today, must be some chemical reason, because I do not get mad, do not get confused for some stupid reason...It's just, why the fuck people do not listen, I always do, I may look like I don't but I always listen, I read, I see, I...I...I observe...
OK, what's important to me, is not necessarily important to other..., but then why call for help..., don't call for help, if you're not ready to do your part, to stand there and at least pretend that you'd like to have it done, resolved, or what-the-fuck-ever!!
I beat the best out of my closet, when I have to have that done right...I insist, I dig, I bite, I root up like a wild pig, I call for help, I say 'please', I say 'thank you', I say all that and much more, very honestly... but I need room for all this...
I need room, space, air to breath meanwhile...I need stillness, no one and nothing to rush me, to instigate, I need TIME and cleaver people to help
I hate to have to ask many times, I hate people that doesn't have time to explain, or will, and stop doing that in the middle, or doing it in some hardly readable language that even they don't quite understand.
Please, I need brains that can do stuff, and that do stuff from the top to the bottom, or say that they have no time, or else...
I cannot do everything by myself, I cannot do stuff that I never done before all alone, I need help, and mum loved me today...
I am alive and kicking, but very much perplexed today...
Rarely's happening, but I need some constancy... a 'normal' line, one way, the everyday line, one road, one horse, one man, just me...to lay down and breath, thoughtless, not to exist for no one today...

I really don't know what I wont today...

I really lost frequency today...


I lost...

I hate to loose...

a bad day...


I'm shutting out now..


Don't let me fall and brake my nose, 
don't let me run and roll my toes, 
don't let me fly without your wings, 
don't let me slump and crash my stings, 
don't let me pray and loose my faith
and shut my eyes down to see a wraith
don't let me scream to fill the room
it's dark in here... it's like my tomb
my agony is all I am
my fantasy is like a dam
my memory is only round
constant, spinning, perfect, bound...
leading nowhere or back to start
again and again braking my heart
just try to steer, and make my day 
and in the end just take my hair
play with it and whisper dreams
bring the sun, the light and beams
brake the circle, brake the bound
heal my heart, build a mound
then wake me up, light my flame
become my God but with a name...