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The Sad Truth

The sad truth about Maria is that I love her more than I love myself.
That's why she left me: I don't love myself enough.

Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it

After my four times socialising with the police in detention cells and two or three days in a solitary cell at a psychiatric hospital, I wanted to prove to myself that -- provided I was indeed guilty -- I can stand solitary even longer.

Now that I have for the first time registered my address through normal channels (for UN personnel in NL we're not obliged to do that, but to register our address through our Visa & Entitlement Unit who then contacts the Protocol of the Dutch Ministry of Foreign Affairs), I have started receiving speeding tickets from years back. For some reason, my old Mercedes seams to have slipped through the cracks of bureaucracy and all my speeding tickets have been sent to (I guess) some of the no-longer valid addresses - I never received any.

Now, in three weeks, I received one speeding ticket for 310 euros, one for 410 euros and one for 640, and that's only the beginning, I feel. The amounts are increased because of the interest and because they were not paid in time (no matter that I always had my address registered as I should have). I might go to jail for 12 days, and still pay the tickets. I have to seek legal representation -- this is not right. But, the whole affair disgusts me. Reminds me of just how much money more that I should have have I paid some years ago before I understood that every road-tax payment form was different in some detail that noone ever told me.

It's not easy, my switch to normal Dutch living. I've been priviledged too long.

Kosovo Coda

I went to the Hague yesterday, to get a small loan from a friend.

On my way towards the main square I saw a woman with "blue-white-red" flag painted on her face. On the main square there were about five people, and on the opposite side a piece of cloth was hang between two trees with "KOSOVO = SERBIA" writen on it, and blue, white and red baloons, three of them on each side. I took the white one on my aim, and puctured it with my hand. The echo made the sound of it breaking sound like a bullet.

- Goeie dag, meneer! ("Good day, Sir"), a guy at the opposite side said very loudly.
- DO VIDJENJA, ("Au revoir"), I said firmly and just as loud.
- Waarom "Do vidjenja"?, he replied pronouncing perfectly the frase from our common language.

Adreline overwhelmed me instantly, so much so that I saw white dots. I said nothing and went away quietly. I am happy for Kosovars, despite how dangerous their newly declared indepence may be for the stability of the region. Kosovars paid their dues, Serbs made sure of that.

Why "do vidjenja"? Because I have so much anger and rage within me that I would be tempted to join Kosovars in defending themselves should the Serbs try to enter Kosovo without passports, in which case I could easily see the same guy on a viewfinder of my sniper, that's why.

What "so special" about Maria?

Think of a work of art: one is not the same person before and after seeing it.

Maria is a Master-piece: I never see her anymore, but she's always with me. She's changing me constantly. I am always the same, only better.

I understand her. I love her.

I ALWAYS loved her, even before I first met her. I always love her.

Jos malo, malo trezvenije

Mnogo mi bre fali moj burazer iz Sandzaka, Nozina.

Nadam se da cu prezivjeti do ponedjeljka. Samo sam na ulici siguran u Rotterdamu, ali ni to nije izvjesno.

NIsu svi Srbi slobodoumni u NIzozemskoj kao sto se meni cini.

Mozda ne bih trebao ici nigdje danas, nego ostati doma. Ionako mi je od cijele place ostalo 2,05 euora (jos u utork, odtad zivim na zraku i pusim previse).

Gori sam od Tetke VOJKE!
Jebo paramilitary, jebo parawriters (kao sto sam ja).

Nobody please rapes me until next week, hahaha, i'm not american historay X, i'm croatian history XYZ, NN (nomen nescio).

I MISS MARIA! PLEASE MARIA BE AROUND IN SPIRIT THE NEXT THREE DAYS.

I MISS NOZINA! PLEASE BE WITH ME IN FLESH.

i miss mi amor,
i miss mo amir.

Samo mi mir nedostaje, onaj unutarnji.

P.S.

MA NEMA!

Nemate pojma

Koliko bih rijeci mogao istrositi pisajuci o zadovoljstvu koje me cini ekstaticno sretnim ovijeh dana, a to je pratiti svi viku koju nam braca servi nabacuju pozivajuci se, kao i uvijek, na opstu cionisticko-vatikansko-slobodno zidarsku konspiraciju, jer kao i tijekom svih stotina godina dok su proizvodili svoje isprdjene mitove sluzeci Turcima (ma sta Turcima, oni bi rekli: BALIJAMA!)... kao i uvijek svi su drugi osim njih krivi.

Vidio sam danas jednu predivnu fotografiju na naslovnici nizozemskog izdanja Metroa: neka slobodoumna srp-kinja (molim da primijetite da koristim malo "s", takozvano "tanko") drzi ponosno pred kamerama an APB (All-points-bulletin) za americku sekretaciju, (tajnicu!) inozemnih poslova. Uhapsite Condolizu, koristite safe sex methods and use a condom for Condolizanje.

Isto kao kada su tijekom onog vrlo kratko, iznimno preciznog, krajnje terapeutskog bombardovanja ponosito kao i uvijek vlastite bebe uvijali u "
zive mete". Daaaaaaaaaa, revolucija kao i uvijek jede svoju djecu.

But REVOLUTION WILL NOT BE TELEVIZED.
REVOLUTION will be live. In a couple of so jaaren, stotinjak stoljeca ili koliko im jos treba da prestanu biti "LUDI NAROD", koliko god nebeskim se sami sebi cinili.

PUSITE MI SVI KURAC. PICKA VAM MATERINA CETNICKA.

Ja sam, kao sto vidite, ovijeh se dana pretvorio prakticno preko noci u pravog Ustashu. Ja ustah, a oko mene svi USTASE. Grapig, he? Ja, muchas guavas.

I zato cu vam sada po prvi puta ikada bes srema, pardon, bez srama prenijeti jedan od urnebesno divlje smijesnog sovinistickog grafita kojeg se sjecam iz pothodniku u Selskoj cesti u Zagrebu, a koji je vrlo sazeto i precizno donio dijagnozu:

SRBI SU DOKAZ DA SU TURCI JEBALI PSE.

Kome god se ne svidja sto sam upravo rekao, nadjite me, pa da popricamo. Mostar nije samo "njihov" grad. I moja domovina mene cesto cini posramljenim, ali ja nikad nikoga nisam zapitao "Ko nas bre zavadi". To cujem samo od onih rijetkim Srba (i to uglavnom van Srbije, jer su svi pametni na vrijeme pokusali se izolovati).

Ja sam jedini u svojoj klasi koji se na upis u vojnu evidenciju deklarirao kao Jugoslaven. Svi su oko mene bili Hrvati.

Ja sam Hrvatom postao otkako je prva bomba (cak ne niti snajper, nego bomba!) pala ne na Vukovar, ili Dubrovnik, ili Zadar, ili Petrinju, ili... nego na Zagreb. Zagreb je moja DOM-ovina i sam za svoju domovinu

UIVIJEK SP-REMAN.

ZA DOM SPREMAN!!!! sIG FUCKING HEIL, PROKLETI FASISTI.

DROP THE BIG ONE MOTHERFUCKERS. LET´S CARVE THE CAN CER OUTTA TISSUE, WITHOUT A TISSUE , OUT OF ISSUEL.

BECAUSE OF THIS ISSUE, THEY ARE UNCLEAN.
And because of that tissue, in a high degree of metastasis, they should be u karantini.

Let´s drop the big one and be real humanitarian. Five kilotone atomic one, should be enough for entire Belgrade, to ruin their entire day.

You don´t know that about me, butr I hav shaken hands with Mr. Slobodan. He thanked me. I said, `Oh no Mr. president, the pleasure is all mine`. Nasli smo se uzivo i istoj sudnici.

Sa Seseljem me je uvijek staklo dijelilo, ali s njime se ne bih rukaova± njega bih odmah na listu mjesta zaklao dobro usiljenom olovkom iz Toza )Tvornica olovaka Zagreb'.

Nebeski vam narod i dalje soli pamet.
Ajmo im pocet vize naplacivat za visekratni posjet Dzenetu, pa onda svi zajedno mozemo mirno oprat noge i na dzuma namaze i pomaze u dzamije.

ODJEDANPUT svakom je srbu kojeg vidim na televiziji ili cituckam u svijem novinama puna usta slobodoumlja, rezolucija o garantiranim ljudskim pravima, rezolucija vijeca sigurnosti broj 1244, moralnih, vjerskih ma svih mogucih prava, koje inace vrijede (nota bene) SAMO EKSKLUZIVNO ZA SVE DRUGE NEGO ZA SRBE, SAMO UNATRAG MA NEKOLIKO MALIJEH GODINICA!

I AM. RIGHTEOUS AMONG THE UNITED (RARELY SO UNITED AS WE ARE TODAY) NATIONS.

I served my dues, I had my blues. Niente. Lociento. Pus mi kurac, svetska lado. A ti Seselju samo migni, pa ako operes zube i tebi cu ga dat da mi ga ispusis do jaja, a moj je (garantujem, tetka Vojko) VECI OD TVOJEGA, iako sam uvjeren da ti supak mnogo fleksibilniji od mojeg. Mene je samo jedan muskarac i dupe jebao, i to samo jednom. O tebi mnogo bre prica kako si bio spreman za svakojako suradnje sa svim dobrohotnim kolegama +++ kolegama. Tŕko i treba, we all know what happens to fat republicans in American prisons, they get turned into SISSIES real, real, real quick.

Jeste bre.
Ma fuj, picka vam materina. Bijesan sm ko Pankrti!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A samo sam jednu pivo popio, jeo, spavao, ma sav sam OKej PO CELOM TELU.

nEMOJ NEKO DA ME OVIJEH DANA PITA ´KO NAS BRE ZAVADI´. ne garantujem za sebe.

Ali kao i uvijek, zna se gdje se (paz to± ZNA SE!) MENE MOZE A GDJE NE MOZE NACI.

Ja kad vidim vodu, kad cujem RIIJNHAVEN, ja znam da sam doma. Na mojeg odnedavno vjekovnom pocivalistu.

WARRIORS, COME OUT TO PLAY-Y-Y-Y!

mA BJESNIJI OD MAKSA LUBURICA I ANTE PAVELICA ZAJEDNO.
I nemojte mi zaboravit da se Ante povampirio nacionaliznom tek kad su nam braca Srbi pistoljom pobili parlamentarne predstavnike usred Beograda jebovasja, a nakon sto je Politika dobrano oprala mozgove vlastitim pizdurinama.

IGRALE SE DE-LI-JE NASRED UZE SRBIJE!!!

UZAS!!!

UZAS!
uuuu!

ZA, uza, uzhija, najuzija Srbija!

... The horror... the horror... the horror...

Al ja kazem, JE BEJBI! SAYONARA! Ne bih za medjunarodni pravni presedan, ali zasluzili su Albanci nezavisnost -- Srbi su im je "dali" konacno one krvave 1999.

Aj' sad budite opet (cuj mene: opet! koji bre opet?) dobri jedni s drugima, pa svi skupa u Europu, okej?
Nemoj ba jos Sandzak da vam treba, burazeri, dobro?
Sad ga vidis, sad ga ne vidis -- CO JE TO?
TO JE MORSKI VRABEC!

Dopao mi se bivsi Kosovski premijer, Agim Ceku koji je za Dnevni avaz danas vrlo optimisticno rekao da "s obzirom na stav Beograda, unutrasnje pomirenje bit ce dosta tesko. To ce trajati i nekoliko godina." Ne-mooj me jebat, i NEKOLIKO GODINA? Kako stvari stoje u Srbiji, i nekoliko milenija bi bilo upitno.

Poruka s protesta ispred ambasade Slovenije (a sto Slovenije?) u Beogradu: UBIJ, ZAKOLJI DA SIPTAR NE POSTOJI!"

Kupio SVE novine danas. Sve koje sam nasao: Vecerni list, cijela naslovnica, stranice 2-5. Vecernje novosti, srpske: 3/4 naslovnice, stranice 2-9.

Dnevni avaz? Mali naslovcic na naslovnici, stranice 15-17, ali ukljucuje i slikovni podsjednik na strahote koje su se dogodile na Kosovu. BiH je u veoma osjetljivoj situaciji, razumljivo.

Ali sto mi se ti srpski burazeri toliko zeste? Mnogo ste bre osetljivi! hahaha.

Naslovnica Vecernji novosti ima neutralan, gotovo komunisticki infitivan ton: OTKINULI OD SRBIJE. Ma ko bre, otkinuo? Sami ste je pocepali, jebovas ja.

Danas sam malo ustasoidno raspolozen, pa vicem: KNEZIJA DO ZEMUNA! Al to tek onako, zeka peka.

Sic transit gloria mundi, pajdasi. Kao, sto osvojite u ratu gubite u miru? Silovali ste Jugoslaviju uzduz & popreko, izgubili uz svu nadmoc. Toliko o tome.

And now I shut up. Ne bih da se s nekim zakacim danas dok po Rotterdamu vicem naslov posta a pod paskom nosam Tockov Maxi LP, gdje je na A strani "Mars", a na B strani "... Na drinu". Plus sve novine. PLus sav sam u zelenom, zelena trenirka, svedska vojna kosulja, zelene adidaske platnene.

Pa sta? Cijelo selo vice, a ja velim, znate vec... Bekrija sam, bekrija!

I'm getting sick and tired of myself and my Maria thought-loops. There is no G_d, there's no Maria, there's no love. There's "unbearable lightness of being" and there's emptiness.

I'll go & have a beer tonight in the watering hole called Het laatste kans (Posljednja sansa) to congratulate them on their sense of humor. They are having a special Valentine's evening, two days after the Valentine's. That really is the last chance for desperados like me, haha. (I don't expect anything but a cold beer there, but it's been some time I've visited the place.)

I've almost exhausted my memories of Maria. Our shadows have met, we have not. It's time to abandon the Maria's Rotterdam and gravitating towards it with a hope of a chance meeting. It's not happening. Time to discover my own Rotterdam.

Looking forward to going back to work, it'll help me get a kick start in general. The more time one has available, the more time it takes to get anything done...

The scary thing is that I don't these days find much inspiration in anything other than you-know-who. To abandon her is to face the Void, the vacuum. Perhaps that's the shock-therapy I need?

I've unleashed myself today

When I'm unhappy it's because of Maria. She just needs to appear and I'd be happy. But don't believe me, it's just the easy excuse for being unhappy.

I'll "unleash" myself more in the future, because I choose to have Faith in myself. Not Maria. She's not featured in my life anymore, as you can clearly see, hahaha.

When I'm happy, I'm in Rotterdam. She is here, too, you know?

I'm telling you, one needs to keep Faith.

Hollands Licht

I may smoke too much, but I walk. I walked twice over the Maas today and not once did I think of joining it.

The Dutch sunlight refracts so beautifully in it you can see apart "the different parts" of the water, because of all the sand and dirt in it.

That's why I don't see my reflection in it. The Dutch Light, it's a known fact.

SCRIVI MI, AMORE MIO, look how wide this river is! That's how much I love you. Not as much as Amazon, but more than you'll find anywhere else...

(I've never seen the Amazon, but I remember seeing the Maria of yesteryear on a picture there. What a beautiful smile she always has. What would I not give to see it again?)

Hello, I Love You Won't You Tell Me Your Name?

- "Good morning, my neighbours!" - shouted the New Prince in America from the top of his lungs.
- "Fuck you!" - yelled somebody back in the city of New Amsterdam.
- "Yes! Yes! Fuck you too!", the Prince ejaculated with delight.

Have you seen the film?

Talking to Oneself

"Do you talk to yourself?", Maria asked me soon after we started dating outside the Clinic.
"Yes", I said, matter-of-factly.
"Oh, I guess it's a male thing", she said.

I never thought of saying I only do in my non-Croatians...

Voices in my Head

"Do you hear voices?", a nurse in Jankomir asked me some twenty years ago.
"Didn't you just ask me something?", I answered.

I hear voices. And because I forgot more languages than most of you ever spoke I usually hear what I choose to hear and believe. On a good day. On a bad day I'm just watching who's following me.

I'm too good not to be followed, you see?

Too hear "voices", makes me feel good, it makes me feel important. Maria never understood that, she couldn't. At the time being we were both trying very hard to find our paths back to Sanity.

"You're making fun of my illness", she shouted at me once, at her first Explosion with me. I never did it again. I chose to be depressed, I chose she was the only reason to get out of the bed, or stay in it if she was with me.

The sun still rises and sinks with her, for me.

Why don't I see my reflection in de Maas?

Why can't I see my reflection in the murky green River of Maas?

I'll tell you why.

Because I'm not Narcis, and the UNdead see no reflection of themselves. They see their reflection in the others.

Sava's not much better, as I recall -- but I never wanted to see myself in it.

Kijker in the Raw

Kijk! Even kijken my stupid notebook. You're not done with me tonight, oh no!

I just don't know

How can Maria resist me for so long?

I don't WANNA NORMAL woman, I want you Maria.
I need drama in my life, I'm just fed up with my own dramas. I want my Drama Queen back.

Jaezush minaaa, even some fucking Cosmopolitan test identified me as the "White Prince Waiting To Be Discovered."

Discover me.
Be MY Maria.
I'll be your Cristofor.

Maria, you're not normal for leaving me alone for so long. There.

A Sausage Too Much, a Bridge Too Few, or: Omnipotence = Decadence

Shit, that sausage made take a nap upstairs, at Natash. I'm not used to heavy meat.

While I was lying in the dark I realised that Omnipotence in my case equals Decadence.

Why? It's simple: because I Dance with TEN fingers.

Maria once lost her head with only four of my fingers. "No one ever did that to me", she said. She was... shocked with pleasure. Tried to crawl over and escape. She was also a bit frightened. And confused, because she tried to crawl over my head.

I used both my hands to pull her back where she belongs.
The Woman's place is on my face.

Maria, baby, I've got six more fingers entirely untried!
Come back, please come back. Recover with your ex-ex and come back. Por favor.

I know every little milimeter of Your Body, but your Mind... is the Sexiest I HAVE EVER MET! And the algorhythms that run it are Sheer Delight, the most beautiful music.

I have tried to dance to your tunes, but it was too early.
Because I didn't hear the music. I couldn't, I wasn't well either.

But since then, everytime I think about you, I say: "I LOVE THIS SONG!!!"
Van Morrison never met my Maria, that's why I am the first one to sing:

M. A. R. I. A.

You're every Aria, my Gabriela. Sang and unsang.
I SING YOUR BODY ACOUSTIC.

Remember everyone, we don't HAVE a body, we ARE a body.

I rest now.

I rest my case. And my notebook. And the sausage.
Every sausage slows down my metabolism significantly.

Even a sausage is a post on my blog.

Capish? I just micro-burned a sausage and some sour cabbage-potato mash in Natash's home. And ate it, too.

It's good to eat, it's good to walk, it's good to... everything. It's good to feel alive. I should do it more often. Without sausages, though. I only manage three or four times in a year to forget from what they are made (answer: like hot dogs, these sausages are made from all the leftovers that can not be used otherwise, ground to a paste and packed. In the sausage.)

But... sausage is a sausage sometimes, even according to Freud.

My skinny self

I used to wear clothes a size two big, kinda baggy. That was until some four years ago, when I was living in Amsterdam, in Peggy's house. I found some great undershirts, Italian made, but the three they have left were a size too small. I've tried one in the shop. A bit tight, but like I said, they were too good to let go.

I remember opening the door to let one or two (female) visitors in, with whom I never "had anything" except friendship (which is good enough). Moreover, I remember how they sized me up. And down. And up again. The Pavlov's bitch reflex, hahaha. (We, the male hot dogs aren't any better, just more obvious.)

They couldn't resist. Now I wear clothes my own size. I'm big enough even without the ten or so kilograms I've lost in recent months.

I feel good! I'm gonna unleash myself tonight on the blog to type in everything I came up today. Everybody feels good today, it was a warm, sunny day in Rotterdam.

Creative juices flowing like the beer. Read it at your own peril.

La serpenta canta

I swallowed one.

But I'm spoiled. I cannot eat sausages without a Dijon mustard. Kan niet. Non passaran.

My friend Natas is eating, what's it called... the Dutch national meal, the sour sausage and cabbage with mashed potato. "You can have some, if you like."

I stay spoiled. I have no options. I was brought that way. My mother was fucked up, almost like Maria. She only loved me when I was a baby and then again when I was grown-up.

We've discussed having children, Maria y ja. I told you what happened.
Maria LOVES children. I love them more by the day. I think about a daughter, half-Venezuelan, but I have a son. Age 12. Never met him.

Have to make amends.

Then she changed her mind. She realized she would not be a good mother. I am not sure. "If I have a child, I'll just leave her with you." Alternatively, we talked about adopting a girl from Venezuela.

This is still my plan.

HI chance

Of me getting really drunk in Thirsty Garry's tonight. I never get drunk. I always like staying in control.

But, Thirsty Garry's is de enige plats where MORE IS LESS.

You pay 2 euros for a bottle of Heineken (2 dcl), but you pay only 2,30 euros for a bottle of Grolsch (which is a better beer, anyway!). A bottle of Grolsch packs 4,5 dcl.

HI chance of me getting a 600 euro taxi to the hospital? I hope I will be able to walk home. Because the ambulances are fucking expensive in Holland.

Vidis da sam gadan kad sam tebe gladan!

A izdrkao sam dvaput danas, toliko mi u mojoj dobi treba u mjesec dana. Cuvam se za Zenu Svojeg Zivota. U mojoj dobi, kao sto je Felix rekao "s energijom racionalno, s racijom energicno!".

Nije meni trebalo tantru ucit s Marijom. Islo je prirodno. Satima. Danima.

I MISS YOU SO GOD DAMN FUCKING MUCHO!
BESSA ME MUCHO, BACHI ME AMORE. En la groene Maas.

BESA. If it takes four hundred years, I'll see you again, Maria. And unlike David Bowie in the Hunger, I will just start living.

But four hundred years is too much time to die.
That's why I smoke too much.
There.

The GAME

with Sinisa Span in the leading role.

The ageing Michael Douglas didn't have to persuade that Catherine Zeta too much, did he?

I'm fearless, it's not a healthy thing to be.
I am my own worst enemy.

I go to church now. It's near Thirsty Garry's, Suomen Merimieskirkko, the church of the Finnish Sailors.

"Good luck in the Finnish Church", said the surgeon with beautiful eyes after she finished stitching my split lip.

My labia maiora.
My mammaries, I've touched them the last time in front of this church. I had cold hands, but Maria saw how desperate I was after she dumped me.

I am. I just lack a vision, the vision... En la ciudad de Maria.

There's nothing wrong with you Harry, you're just out of focus! -- said the doctor to Robin Williams in Deconstructing Harry.

I'm outta focus, I have no vision.
With or without you, it's beyond cure.

On a day like this

Everything Makes Sense.
And Nothing Does.

It worries me sometimes. Like general Romeo Dalaire, the UN mission commander in Rwanda during the genocide said after his break-down, after he did everything (and nothing happened, except 800,000 slaughtered within months, with machetes)...

"Once you loose your mind, you never completely get it back."

Never. Nunca?

SHE moves in mysterious ways

She does. She's not a Saint, however much she'd like to become a nun in some monastery. She's G_d. There's no more exact proof of Her existance either. In G_dess I trust.

I'm not contactible either, these days. I've mysteriously lost my SIM card the other day, but have found a Nederlandse Spoorwegen card valid for 2008, the one that I have never received before finding it in my wallet.

I never told you how I met, how I recognised Maria. I just told you (at the end of July) how I got to the Intensive Psychiatric Clinic, where I spent three days until the Judge set me free. Maria was there for months, she was supposed to stay until January this year. I was seeing her every day. She was transferred to on Open Clinic in the midst of Rotterdam's Sodoma and Gomora, in the West, couple of minutes away from Thirsty Garry's, the Dizzy jazz club, all the sex shops, coffeeshop, and whorehouses in the Nieuwe Binnenweg.

I'm not goint to tell you now either, I'm too drunk.

I'll just tell you that in my three days I was warned twice that physical contact between "the inmates" is forbidden. Maria and me were caught twice in varying degrees of nakedness in her room. When I put the palm of my hand on her stomack she began shivering, her body was shiverring. I never saw this before, except on film.

"You made me feel like a woman", she said. It's been months she's felt that way. What greater compliment can a man hear? Tell me, I want to know!

"We can walk together, we can talk, we can make love." She said. I like doing ANYTHING with her.

She told me in the clinic she may have AIDS. "I'm getting tested tomorrow." I never asked for the results. I didn't need to. I trusted her, I trust her. If I was wrong about her I wanted to die. If I'm wrong about her I want to die.

I am healthy. "You need a normal girlfriend", she would say a month later. She even tried to take me to a famous disco club to find a girlfriend for me. It's a mission. I took her home, we made love, I played Lhasa de Sela's "Living Road" and cried on every fucking verse.

"I don't like your mission!", I cried.
"You're sensitive, aren't you?", said Maria.

I KNOW she loved me, even when she announced her Mission. But what kind of woman in love wants to find another woman for the man she loves? An abnormal one.

I am normal enough for both of us, Maria.

MARIA!!!

Dime me la verda, goddamnit. Try. Set me free. I have set you free.

Like I said in my statement

of February the eight nineteenthirtynine to which I have nothing further to add:

This was my last beer. Until MEZE!

Then I'll start dancing, then I'll start touching, carressing, kissing that loudspeaker in Thirsty Garry until they change the music or turn it down. Like they were doing twenty some years ago in OKC with newly moved Radio 101. I met Branimir there. He plays football for Houten now.

I'm not Johhny either. I'll be switching to translating Idiodyssey soon. He knew what he was doing, he JUST CARED TOO MUCH!!!! That's my problem exactly. No cure from that.

"It's a prison with golden bars"

The UN.

But I can handle it again. I've been through thick & thin. I've been caged, I paid my dues, I feel.

I'm ready for the gold again.
ArbeiD macht frij.

Sick of it all.

Sick. Sick. Vittorio de Sica.
Sick in the membrane, I know I am without You.

But now I have an official report stating the contrary, and then I can come back to work and start forgetting. With or without you.

I'm a Good Guy.

I never hurt anyone, physically. I'm almost sorry.

A picture speaks a thousand words. A hit in the head at the right moment speaks ten thousand words. I said this to my cognitive-behavioral therapist last year, when I was describing a situation in which my friend Zayin insulted my (by now ex-)friend, Tusti Mis in front of four other mutual friends (without TM being present. He's not part of that crowd.)

"But that's primitive!", the therapist, a Dutch woman said.
"And what do you think sex is?", I replied. I stopped my therapy soon afterwards, I had enough.

My friend Nozina (where are you? I haven't seen you or heard from you this year!) promised to take me to street fights, "cock fights" in the Hague, this May. I need to learn the Art of Knowing the Right Moment whether I feel it or not. That's how one survives in a city like Rotterdam.

In the Hague, though, it's done by a stab in a back, I've learned. I hang out with wrong crowds, but Nozina knows better, he was earning for his living by street fight competitions when he first came to the Netherlands.

It's good I don't have internet at home

I would write so much bullshit everyday you wouldn't believe.

I saw there were several more comments below the post where I announced the end of this blog. I laughed at myself later, thinking how I automatically assumed it was a woman who said first "Don't stop now, I feel I almost know you." It could have been anybody.

I choose to believe it was Maria or some other woman I would like to meet. I choose not to read the other comments. Let me live in my fantasy.

But every woman is Maria for me. Every woman wanting to meet me show know that, but I'll never tell.

"Don't ever mention that name to me again." Maria said softly to me when I mentioned... En___o.

Fuck Life. Fuck Maria. I don't.

Every good day.

I find meaning in Everything. It's driving me crazy. She is.
Everything is Everything, but G_d is Love. Love is... somewhere to be found.

Nothing's more bewildering than Reality. Then the beautiful moment comes when we go to sleep and we can Dream For Real. Everything goes.

I hurt my leg the other day. I was dreaming about some doctor, a distinguished gentleman, like aging Robert Mitchum in some movie, who told me I should go to therapy. Probao sam sloziti ga sa zemljom, nonsalantno trznuvsi lijevim laktom. I missed. Then I hit my foot full strenght against his head. The soaring pain woke me up. I was Pain for two minutes. It can happen when I lean to much on my left side, on my heart when I sleep.

Maria always slept to my left, between me and the wall. I once fallen asleep in her embrace and in the sleep, in some unpleasant dream I ducked my head to avoid a hit coming its way.

"Mi amor...", she said softly. I never hit her. I never would. I always said to her "Hit me!" when she would go La Bomba to me, when she would explode without a hint of what caused it.

I'm glad she never did hit me. I like my teeth, I'm kinda attached to them. But it may have been good to her if she ever did. She would reaffirm her love for me, I always thought. If she saw me hurt, or in blood, perhaps she would next time make a better effort to explaining to me what did I do to hurt her.

What did I ever do to hurt her? Why is my best not good enough for Her?

I'll tell you: because she THINKS she is not beautiful.

See me again, mi amor, mi amiga. See me again. I won't ever try to persuade you again. You can be your ugliest self with me, it's good enough for me.

Hermina Wants Me To Kill Her

Harry Haller, the Steppenwolf thought. And then he did, the stupid bastard. Then he saw all the rooms he never dared step into.

Maria said to me, "I want to make you hate me."

I still don't know what she meant. Will I ever?

I think not. I love her more and more, the nature of my love changes but its constant. She is the most interesting, THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CREATURE i ever met in my life.

BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL
in every way. Now there's something to piss her off: "I'm NOT BEAUTIFUL, YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ME!!!", she'd always snap at me.

To which I would always reply:

I KNOW ENOUGH. I. KNOW. ENOUGH.
You are beautiful. I say so.

I was only verbally abused as a child, unlike she.

I like throwing things into the Maas

De great river on the south bank of which I live. Seeing how it swallows them or takes them up or down. The stream. The river. My own reflection in its murky Green.

Swimming in it is forbidden, it's hazardous to one's health. Like all the cigarettes I smoke in a day. Like all the misery I choose to wallow in, like a pig in shit.

"I hate your apartment", said Maria to me once. It's a nice apartment but I hate living in it. Alone. My apartment is my life, she said or perhaps her therapist pointed it to Her. It's a Mess.

The pain is real. Depainizreal. Isreal, Israel.

Leshana haba'ah... Jerusaleim. Next year in Jerusalem. That's more or less how the Jews have told each other when parting, for two milleniums.

Next year is this year. I claim this year. This year is Mine.
With... or without you, Maria. But with you, my Love, only Sky is the limit and only flying is better than sex, you say that yourself.

Come fly with me, baby. Come fly me, I am yours for ever. I am a Red Diamond wearing a torn green Swedish infantry uniform shirt. My war is not over, but unlike Yasser Arafat I think I have a Vision Beyond It.

Things just look brighter if I see Maria, with me or with. I just want to See Her once in while, is that so fucking much to ask?

Angels in my life.

Everywhere.

I never told you

I never told you about the Moment when our eyes said hello to each other. Or great many other things we said or done, Maria y ja.

I never told you about my apartment. I never told you about my friend Natas. I never told you about so many things, but the year is young. But it's February, the longest month, the month I should come back to work. I should hope so. I've been living like a bum long enough.

Sa mnom, potop!

I didn't sleep well the night from Thursday to Friday, nor the night before. On Wednesday I had to see the occupational health officer at work. It's amazing how much the Hague sucks the life out of me.

I stayed in bed until well after noon yesterday. Then I went to eat something in Italian restaurant vis-a-vis Thirsty Garry's and then I went in.

Friday's are not my days, Thursdays are. I was feeling totally miserable yesterday. I only went to TG to have an excuse to eat something on my way and not think about the preferred way to end all the pain.

For working (wo)men, Fridays are understandibly good days, the party's starting! The work has set them free. Arbeit Macht Frei.

I hardly spoke a word, and the few that did part my lips were to the charming girl I remember from before. She Saw and tried to engage me in conversation.

I finished my second beer, had a double Jameson. A silent tear escaped my left eye. I left before the Flood came. Avec moi, la (de)luge ili tako nekako...

Petak za metak, ali municije nigdje.

The Great Depression, or: Nothing Ever Was, Anyway

"Things are more like they are now then they ever were", someone clever said after The Big War.

I saw Mark shortly after Xmas in Thirsty Garry's. He pushed a simple truth brewing in me to the surface. Having seen Maria at Xmas, seeing her not seeing me was pushing me over the edge more nights since then than I care to remember. I was doing my daily Hejiras to TG like always but was getting happier and happier.

That was not good, because after she broke every contact with me it slowly became obvious to me that I can not be happy anymore without becoming aware just how unhappy I was. And I was getting happier all the time. I was going out of control.

"You're playing with fire", Maria said one of the first times I was in TG, dancing. She was playing pool. So what? I like playing with fire, I just try not to get burned too much. Boy, did I get burned since then!

"It's no problem here, Sinisa, just don't do it elsewhere", one of the two Prophets always present in TG would say to me, after I'd come the next day and apologise for my behaviour.

It wasn't serious misbehaviour, but eventually after I'd carress the loudspeaker pretending it was Maria and I was dancing with Her, I'd eventually start walking quickly and nervously around the place, on one occasion hitting the wall with my foot. I shaved my head after Xmas, to mark the new beginning, the New Year. I put my hair in a plastic bag with a "Grace" CD from Jeff Buckley and left it in TG hoping it would reach Maria. She always liked my body hair. It's delisios, she would say just like that, "it's so soft, I have to call my mother and tell her what has she been missing!" On two or three occasions I'd get out and thrash my bag against the wall, the ground, anything. I've damaged several books that way and once I forgot I had my laptop charger in the bag. The new one cost me 80 euros, few days before my laptop got stolen.

Now, Mark and me, we don't really know each other. I have a generally good opinion about him and he has (I believe) more or less good opinion of me. He's a short, strong fellow, always wearing a black pull-over wool cap. But somehow, when he looks at you with his small Richard Gere eyes, you know he means bussiness.

Opinions are like assholes, everybody's got one. He was talking nonsense, that I'm a butcher from the Balkans, that I hate myself, that Maria can not come to TG because she can only go there if escorted by police and blah blah blah. Such bullshit.

I am my own butcher. "I don't hate myself", I told him - "You don't know me", I added Maria's popular refrain.

But Mark is clever, he burried the simple truth in that dirt so that I would have to find it and see it shining at me: he said I was making other people unhappy with my own unhappiness. Now, that got to me, I Saw It.

I think on a subconscious level I wanted to be banned from TG, my only regular safe refuge, my only real home in Rotterdam. If I wasn't there maybe Maria would start going there again. TG must be even more important to her than it is to me, she was working there six years, knows everybody. Everybody loves Maria. Anybody loves Maria. My body and soul are acheing from Emptiness, from the void she left in me.

It's better now. I'll start working again soon, Maria's reportedly staying in NL and she can work again, also. She's happy with her ex-ex. I'm trying to be happy for both of them.

Now I usually manage leaving Thirsty Garry's before I break into tears. I cannot live without that place, it's the closest I ever come being in Maria's presence. From Her to Eternity...

Ajmo da vidimo kakve su vam sive celije

Bunar je dubok 50 metara.
Puz se svakoga dana popne tri metara uvis,
ali ga sila teza dnevno vrati dva metra.

Koliko dana je puzu potrebno da izadje iz bunara?
Imate 120 sekundi za ispravan odgovor.

Regresija

Vec mi je 41, imam stare kosti,
koje vole bosti.

Poceo sam praviti dva koraka unazad,
na svaki korak unaprijed.

Postao sam, nakon bijesnog fana Azre,
fan Queenovaca.

Zanzibar Rocks.

De Zuider Ster: Sjecam se

U Starigradu ispred Paklenice,
na radiju je svirao najnoviji hit grupe Queen,
Bohemian Rhapsody.

Rista i kolega mu iz banda bili su sa mnom
na plazi. Kolega ga je, sefa banda, upitao sto misli o pjesmi.

Moj ju je otac, rukom odmahnuvsi, nonsalantno otpisao prije negoli je uopce cuo do kraja.

Sjecam se u podrumu nase Zgrade,
netko je hvalio Balasevica.
Ante van Paradiso ga je drcno odpizdio.

Sjecam se kad sam polazio u skolu,
prvi ili drugi razred.
Otvarao sam vrata na kraju stubista naseg vocnjaka,
i osjecao se kao da glumim glavnu ulogu u filmu.

Svi smo Zvijezde Juga,
Al' sto smo tako jebeno provincijalni?

Priviledged

I know how to be
so-called HAPPY,
aber/men/mais
it's difficult without U.

Ik ben zo-genaamde geprivilegeerd
to have met you.

Come As You Are

I just find you so G_ddamn interesting, Maria.
Come to Thirsty Garry's,
discover me like you never saw me before.

Have a drink with me,
picka mu materina.

DEar Clarence

Please forgive my tardiness.

I have disturbed my night-day rhythm during the Festival and have yesterday taken some killer sleeping pills from a friend...

I'll be there by 15:00, I promise. I hope to make a brief visit to dr. Beast too.

Natash,

I went for a quick coffee & cigarette in the houmba, 'cause i'm extremely late for the meeting in 's-gravenhage.

Come to Bloemfontein if you see this within half and hour or so, okidoki?

Rebecca

Rebecca.
Her name was Rebecca
and I am late for a very important meeting in the Hague.

SEMFICH

TO VAM SE KODNAS ZOVE DVOPET.
DVAPUK PECHEN.

T SLICE

you have chosen YOUR NAME,
Jethro!

Too young to rock''n'roll, too young to die.

jb;ihbkn, iliti: HOW TO COOK

104
010
06104 = 20

JU JUST PUT TWO SLICES TOGETHER
AND SOMETHING IN BETWEEN
TO HOLD THEM TOGETHER.

EASY.
YOU KNW HOW TO WHISTLE, DON'T YOU?
YOU JUST PUT TOULIPS TOGETHR
AND
BLOG.

NARKOTICA

KOJA JE TVOJA
BOJA?

NARKOTICA.
LUNAR ANTARCTICA
VARJA IS GONE

OUT OF THE HOTEL
LONG TIEM ABO.

HBO. HAVO/EUROPOORT
vlakbij DiZZy jazzclub.

today

tomorrow.

NOTHING EVER WAS,
ANYWAY.

(TUDEJ, TJUSDEJ)
(s.SPAN/F.hYVONNE/NURKOKENNEN/ENNETE PEACOCK & ANDIE MCdOWALL).

Tracy

like i told you
is may name.
mayte, she had a child by prince.
but then she didn't.

i know prince is goed,
how is mayte?

aj saw her once in vienna
w/my broethr.

we drove n my brand new Audi 80G^^
.

Anothr mama

for obama.

i know who that is.
it's hillary.

hillary is goin g to be
another persident of the united states of amercia.


ain't no 2 ways about it.
voc d kies.
kies kok, wim!

tHIS blog is a work of fiction

This. blog.

the woods are lively
dark and deep

but i've got promises to keep
and maaaaaaaaany miles to go before i sleep.

manjana tamo aleko
vanavongds heir vlekbij.

heel vlekbij.
vrlo istocno.

od jaja.

od jajca do raja.
svemiraja.

UPRAVO SD

APOKALISPA KADA?
NI KADA.
AIKIKO SHIMADA.

W/JETHRO TULL
GUITARS BY: BILL FRISELL.

vEVGOTBRIDGES

TO GO UNDER WATER
IN THIS COUNTRY


DID U KNOW?
READ ABOUT IT NEWSPAPAER.

jAG

jag-mig156


ILJUSYHIN

pada ko kamet jednom pogodjen.
a pala su

OBA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OBA SU PALA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

u instrumentalu

oj~!

s kime
s cime


J A G NEMAMNIKUCHTANIMACHETU.

3 bralizions

Hau much is det?
Icalot.

In 1971.
6,000,000 people died in kroatie.
vaj?

becausebecause
they did.

even the as yet unborn people did die alittle.

le petit beurre.

a - 1

het canon 350d
3sis

d fleur du malaise.
anyfilmwilldoaslongasit'sin black.

black.
aint' no 2 wyas about it.
black.

back in black.
highway to eh, heel?

ja.

hyvaa pyvonen
hyvaa aipava'
aikodanikada shimada


SÁKA JE INTELIGENCIJA PRIMJENJIEVA.
BURAZERU OJ.

(to sm ti opjevo u narodksko dijalektu, da se ne mora citat medju redaka.)

alles goed mej tij?
thuis?

nein = 2

hjitytdkij

ajsmouk

justop
dechauitwrksinrotterdam

chispitas800@hotmail.com

detizmajimejl.

majnambr
is

0627.3008.0827.

In the beautiful country,
they do not call it 911.

Wy?
VW?

Vaj iziz ven itkenbi izier.

In dit land, faderland, htey call fcuk.
Theyt dial.

112.

JESTE LI ZNALI

DA JE RADE

ICH MACHE DAS GERN-SHERBEDZIJA

IJO BESPATNO PIVO U FILMU?

To vam je danas u rburcii
VJEROVALI ILI NE?

Ripley.
I've did it.
I've bveen there.
b.v.

GmHb.
Aus BMW.

2

LOSHA

MILOSHA

UBISHE

Loha zivi u lijublijani

LJUBLJANA JE BOLANA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!





LJ-UBIM-5%

hET

Ret

HE-T= RET = THE = D = DE

TV.

SANREMO
SVAKI DAN SVAKOGAPOGLEDA SVE VISE NAPREDUJEM.
U SVAKOM POGLEDU

OTAC NA SLUZBENOM PUTU

it's official

I am
N.O.S.

S.O.N.

certi-fucking-fyable
S.A.N.E.

Ajsoitlajvonnos.

Parafernalija.
monaglobtor
thor

valhalla
valla valla

aSHIK OSTA NA TE OCHI
KO NA 2 CHRNE NOCHI

HVRATSKA I SRBIJA



KO DVA
METKA
U
GLAVI.

BULJASI.

Kaputt

The thinkg
with
computers

datorna

izh

dat ju nevr nou ven dejarauit
ordzastpereternsitng.

I ave MU
Man Un.
Man U.

U=Man
S-man.

Who th fcuk dju think juar5.

No more Idolatry

No more Mirrors
for me.

The person standing
The person seeing
The person is in danger.

Mais... personne
Jamaise.
Jamaise rien.

J'aime.
J'ai...

Very, very Hungry.
Il kako bi Cetnik reko
"Vidis da sam gadan
kad sam tebe gladan."

Coupe de grace

Lights Out!
Lights Out!
Lights Out!

Call
00
31
6

27
3008
0827

And hear Her, the Angel Sing.
Amazing Grace.

Save The Queen and Her Fascistic regime

The Queen is Dead.
Long live the Queen.

I've thrown her out of window.
She flew beautifully.

Her Name was never Maria.
Maria exists not.

She chose her name.
Her name is Sinisa.

Apage Satanas.

Happiness is a Warm Gun

I finally Understood what they've meant!
These Mondays in the Netherlands were always killing me,
Never quite gotten used to the fact that most shops open at Midday, or 1 pm, or not at all.

Boomtown Rats had it pretty right.
Comfortably Numb.

Only thing better than Sex is Flying.
Crushing in a B52 must be better though.

I love my walls, I have so many of them.

Wat en nou?

Well, to put it in a plain English...
I am screwed.

I just left my apartment without a clear idea where my key is.
But it's Monday.

My Days are Thursdays.
On Mondays I am very, very Dutch.

"Fuck


Love


Feel


Pain"