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Sutra, on želi sutra iako bi ga čitavim svojim bićem morao odbiti. Taj revolt tijela, to je apsurd. (Albert Camus)

I slikar je počeo. Nisu vidjeli što radi, no znali su da je to kako se sada smrad preobražava u vedrinu, kao da ga platno upija i pretvara natrag u ljepotu, ravno čudu. (Zoran Ferić)

Anđeli su zbilja stjerani u kut, u bezizlazne pozicije. U svijetu koji je predvorje pakla a mrtvi već neugodno nadiru među žive i časte ih svojom opominjućom prisutnošću. Na svakom koraku vidim smrt, impotenciju i bolest. Postoje sigurna mjesta na kojima čovjek može pronaći mir i uspomene na sretnije dane, ali su i ona kontaminirana užasom povijesti i uprljana realnim problemima. Što više starimo, to se češće susrećemo sa tragedijama koje nisu nimalo nalik na tragedije iz školske lektire. Kad izgubimo iluzije, i vlastita nam lijepa sjećanja izgledaju kao uzaludni snovi. Što više znamo o svijetu, više se bavimo svojom probavom, dok nas život jednom, na kraju, ne svede na običan trulež i smrad. (Zoran Ferić)

Pogled životinja koje su vani stajale klizio je od svinje do čovjeka, od čovjeka do svinje, i ponovno od svinje do čovjeka; ali, već je bilo nemoguće raspoznati tko je svinja, a tko čovjek. (George Orwell)

We live, as we dream - alone... (Joseph Conrad)

Your own reality - for yourself, not for others - what no other man can ever know. They can only see the mere show, and never can tell what it really means. (Joseph Conrad)

It seems to me that I am trying to tell you a dream - making a vain attempt, because no relation of a dream can convey the dream sensation, that commingling of struggling revolt, that notion of being captured by the incredible which is of the very essence of dreams... (Joseph Conrad)

I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain. (Frank Herbert)

OvO Je pRIča BeZ zaKLjUčKa

03.08.2005., srijeda

stef fright....uuuuuuuhhhh

ona noc me potpuno izbacila iz takta. sam mi je bio-ritam potpuno poremecen. a u petak test. samo da se toga rjesim. ovaj vikend idemo gledati star wars. jeaj. dolazim s vecere. zanimljivi razgovori o marketingu i kapitalizmu. B. ima stvarno lijepe oci. to nije normalno. a cak nisu ni plave:) znam, nisam normalna. sto se svedanina tice, sada sam vec prilicno sigurna da na tom polju nece biti nicega. sve cimerice su si nasle nekoga. da, ja sam crna ovca u sobi...oh, well. nego, jucer sam vidjela jednog tipa koji izgleda kao fakfejs. ne mogu vjerovati da sam mu zapravo napisala ime. nisam to ni skuzila. enivejs, iako tip ima smedu kosu, isto je kovrcava i kratka. faca mu je potpuno ista, samo sto ovaj tip nosi naocale. i ima crne starke. ali nema plave oci. ja mislim. nisam mogla vjerovati koliko me podsjetio na njega. to mi uopce nije trebalo. samo je pogorsalo moje, vec prilicno lose, stanje.

zaboravila sam vam spomenuti. ima jedna smijesna stvar vezana za moja predavanja. nas profesor nam, svaki put kad se potpuno prepustimo apatiji, da jednu vjezbu - tree exercise. nesto tipa istezanje. cucnes i primis se za nozne prste. zatim se polako istezes i dizes ruke u zrak. negdje oko te tocke mi se kao istegnemo i spustimo ruke, iako to nije kraj. on nastavlja. pocne mahati rukama, "u ritmu vjetra" i kaze "oh, isn't it good to be a tree? trees do calculus..." i tamo mase rukama. prilicno zanimljivo, zar ne? ali svaki put me to jako razveseli:)

P.S. A., sjecas se da smo ono jednom (prije neka 3 mjeseca) pokusavale odgonetnuti iz koje pjesme je jedan od onih citata na mom zidu ("ur faith lies...")? e pa, cd je warning, a pjesma je 7. nadam se da ce ti to pomoci kod onog vjecnog pitanja: "sto je pjesnik time zelio reci?";)

- 01:14 - Komentari (1) - Isprintaj - #

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poetry corner njami
rastanak sa sobom

mi stojimo na rubu svijeta
i gledamo u zapadanje zadnjih zvijezda u dubine noći
sa zvijezdama i mi zapadamo
mi stojimo već na krajnjem rubu sebe
ko ispod nas zemlju nevidljivo maknu
da je već daleko vidimo ko zvijezdu?
zamakle su zvijezde
tko od nas još može naslutiti sebe?
rušimo se vječno
naš je put bez dna i padanje bez glasa.
(A.B.Šimić)

tužaljka

iz moga svijeta, gdje si bila čudo,
ti zauvijek odlaziš. o što će
od moga čuda ostati u svijetu drugih ljudi?
o zašto, moje čudo, rastat ćeš se sa mnom
i biti nekom samo žena?
što možeš biti ti na zemlji, zvijezdo moga neba?
(A.B.Šimić)

mi smo se sreli

mi smo se sreli na zvijezdi što se zove zemlja. naš put kroz vrijeme u ovaj čas (čas svijetli kao cilj) stoji za nama dalek, gotovo beskrajan, da smo već zaboravili naš početak odakle smo pošli.
sada stoji ruka u ruci, pogled u pogledu. kroz naše ruke, i kroz naše poglede zagrlile su se naše duše. o kad se opet rastanemo i pođemo na naše tamne putove kroz beskraj, na kojoj ćemo se opet sresti zvijezdi? i hoće li pri novom susretu opet naše duše zadrhtati u tamnom sjećanju da bijasmo nekada ljudi koji su se ljubili na nekoj zvijezdi što se zove zemlja?
(A.B.Šimić)

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crępe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
(W.H. Auden)

A Dream within a Dream

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
(E.A. Poe)
adopt your own virtual pet!
adopt your own virtual pet!
John Steinbeck
As happens sometimes, a moment settled and hovered and remained for much more than a moment. And sound stopped and movement stopped for much, much more than a moment.

When things get really bad there are some who seek out others who have it worse, for consolation. It is hard to see how this works but it seems to. You balance your trouble against another's, and if your's is lighter you feel better.

When people change direction it is a rare one who does not spend the first half of his journey looking back over his shoulder.

Some days are born ugly. From the very first light they are no damn good whatever the weather, and everybody knows it. No one knows what causes this, but on such a day people resist getting out of bed and set their heels against the day. When they are finally forced out by hunger or job they find that the day is just as lousy as they knew it would be.

Looking back, you can usually find the moment of the birth of a new era, whereas, when it happened, it was one day hooked on to the tail of another.

And the laughter was so pleasant they tried to keep it going after its momentum was spent.

It is a common experience that a problem difficult at night is resolved in the morning after the committee of sleep has worked on it.

"I love true things,"said Doc. "Even when they hurt. Isn't it better to know the truth about oneself?"

When a man is finally boxed and he has no choice, he begins to decorate his box.

It would be absurd if we did not understand both angels and devils, since we invented them.

No man really knows about other human beings. The best he can do is to suppose that they are like himself.

Once the miracle of creation has taken place, the group can build and extend it, but the group never invents anything. The preciousness lies in the lonely mind of a man.