padobrani i poljupci

29.06.2006., četvrtak

Četvrtak, običan Kad u pozadini svira Clash. I. i ja smo smazali vodeni sladoled od narandže, smiješao mi je capuccino. Pojeli smo veliku tortilju. Vani nije više vruće. N. je požurio u trgovinu, po onaj fini pekmez od šljiva, s kariranim poklopcem. I. pleše. "Mama, može sad malo Azra? Neću puštat nekaj žestoko. Ak nećeš Azru, može Redhotčilipepers? (to izgovara spojeno i brzo). "Reci tati da se danas nisam bojao grmljavine." Vučemo se po kući, u stvari je dosadno, ali odgovara mi takva dosada. Savršena dosada. Savršeno poslijepodne. Pa pobogu, običan četvrtak je. I k tome, kišovit.

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redovito čitam

• neutrino
  on je za sve kriv
  zrinsko pismo
  neznalica koji je nestao, šmrc
  on mi jako nedostaje. počeo je s jetricama i chiantijem,tam kod matije, ali stao nakon tri, četiri posta.
  blini
  rahatli
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

• She's in Parties
  Learning lines in the rain
  Special effects by Loonatik and Drinks
  The graveyard scene
  The golden years
  
  She's in parties
  It's in the can (twice)
  
  Freeze frame screen kiss
  Hot heads under silent wigs
  Fall guys tumble on the cutting room floor
  Look-a-likes fall on the cutting room door
  
  She's in parties
  It's in the can (twice)
  
  Learning lines in the rain
  Special effects by Loonatik and drinks
  Freeze frame, screen kiss, hot heads, lights and power
  It's patently obvious
  
  She's in parties
  It's in the can (twice)
  
  Hot lines under a rain of drum
  Cigarette props in action
  Dialogue dub, now heres the rub
  She's acting her reaction
  
  She's in parties
  It's in the can
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ona vuče moje niti
  ona čini moje sne
  dok ja listam stare novine
  ona bježi od dosade
  uspjela je da se smiri
  odlazi nekud nasamo
  a ja maštam zatvorenih očiju
  u mislima je pratim
  ona vuče moje niti
  ona je hladna i daleka
  kao gospodar samoće
  igra se osjećajima
  ona zna da je gledam
  odlazi nekud nasamo
  a ja maštam zatvorenih očiju
  u mislima je pratim
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sunday Afternoons
  
  
  I sit at home
  at my desk alone
  as I used to do
  on many sunday afternoons
  when you came back to me,
  your arms ached for me,
  and your arms would close me in
  though they smelled of other women.
  
  I think of you
  on Sunday afternoons.
  
  Your sweet head would bow,
  like a child somehow,
  down to me -
  and your hair and your eyes were wild.
  
  We would embrace on the floor-
  You see my back´s still sore.
  You knew how easily I bruised,
  It´s a soreness I would never lose.
  
  I think of you
  on Sunday afternoons.
  
  Erica Jong