O muzici #2

• Čovjek iza ovog perfektnog spota je niko drugi do režiser Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.  Hail Michel Gondry!

O muzici #1

Možda i dalje najljepše izvođenje u postojanju.

It's easy to see without looking too far

Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover that you'd just be one more
Person crying

Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

exulansis

n. the tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it—whether through envy or pity or simple foreignness—which allows it to drift away from the rest of your life story, until the memory itself feels out of place, almost mythical, wandering restlessly in the fog, no longer even looking for a place to land.

Altschmerz

n. weariness with the same old issues that you’ve always had—the same boring flaws and anxieties you’ve been gnawing on for years, which leaves them soggy and tasteless and inert, with nothing interesting left to think about, nothing left to do but spit them out and wander off to the backyard, ready to dig up some fresher pain you might have buried long ago.

Q: On the awareness that you’re happy

“What was the term for consciously being aware that you’re happy and therefor becoming unhappy?” –Anonymous

kairosclerosis

n. the moment you realize that you’re currently happy—consciously trying to savor the feeling—which prompts your intellect to identify it, pick it apart and put it in context, where it will slowly dissolve until it’s little more than an aftertaste.

Kairosclerosis is from the Greek: kairos, "the opportune moment” + sclerosis, “hardening.” The Ancient Greeks had two words for time, chronos and kairos. Chronos is quantitative and linear—the ticking of the Western clock. Kairos is more qualitative, referring to moments that are indeterminate and sublime, when something special happens, when god speaks or the wind shifts, when a door is left open between one minute and the next. 

This definition is why I ain’t writing The Dictionary of Obscure Pleasures. In my experience, moments of joy tend to die on the examination table. Kurt Vonnegut liked to say, “I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.” I think the opposite is true. Notice when you’re sad, and dive in and wallow and examine it and pick it apart with forceps and calipers. The sadness will lose its vitality and harden over time into something benign and foreign, like an emotional fossil.

nighthawk

n. a recurring thought that only seems to strike you late at night—an overdue task, a nagging guilt, a looming and shapeless future—that circles high overhead during the day, that pecks at the back of your mind while you try to sleep, that you can successfully ignore for weeks, only to feel its presence hovering outside the window, waiting for you to finish your coffee, passing the time by quietly building a nest.

adronitis

n. frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone—spending the first few weeks chatting in their psychological entryway, with each subsequent conversation like entering a different anteroom, each a little closer to the center of the house—wishing instead that you could start there and work your way out, exchanging your deepest secrets first, before easing into casualness, until you’ve built up enough mystery over the years to ask them where they’re from, and what they do for a living.

rigor samsa

n. a kind of psychological exoskeleton that can protect you from pain and contain your anxieties, but always ends up cracking under pressure or hollowed out by time—and will keep growing back again and again, until you develop a more sophisticated emotional structure, held up by a strong and flexible spine, built less like a fortress than a cluster of treehouses.

yù yī - 玉衣  n. the desire to see with fresh eyes, and feel things just as intensely as you did when you were younger—before expectations, before memory, before words.

you reject your own nose because it represents the glitter of commercialism

The Grinch:
All right, you're a reindeer. Here's your motivation: Your name is Rudolph, you're a freak with a red nose, and no one likes you. Then, one day, Santa picks you and you save Christmas. No, forget that part. We'll improvise... just keep it kind of loosey-goosey. You HATE Christmas, you're gonna steal it. Saving Christmas is a lousy ending; way too commercial. ACTION.

(Max knocks off the nose)

The Grinch:
BRILLIANT. You reject your own nose because it represents the glitter of commercialism. Why didn't I think of that? Cut, print, moving on.

Oktobarska arhiva

Provociraju me. A ja sam tip osobe koji ima pretrpan ormar robe od čega nosi jednu četvrtinu u najboljem slučaju, jer sam pohlepna i sebična i ne bih da se odreknem viška dok nije star izmrcvaren i iscijepan. Dok ih ne bacim kao poslednje tranje ili samo iznosam dok se nisam dobro izmeračila a inače mi se to pritom nikad nije previše sviđalo.A sad me oni provociraju. Šetaju preda mnom u mojim starim krpama. 

O samoubistvu

Apsurd i njegovi osjećaji su poput kože pored osunčanog prozora. Dio proključava na toploti sunca, drugi dio se mrzne u hladu skrivenim oknom i zidom. Nikome ni bolje, ni gore. E sad, da li je nužno ustati i preći samo na jednu stranu, zavisi od onoga koji bira. Do samog kraja će sigurno jedan dio ostati opečen, jedan ledeno hladan i utrnuo.

Politicology #1

“Izborni dan, oko podne... Šef je okružen najpovjerljivijim ljudima. Ćutljiv je i mrk. Stvari ne stoje dobro, kako izgleda. Najpovjerljiviji ljudi oko šefa već su pomalo uplašeni. Ipak, trude se da oraspolože Glavnog. To je osnovna strategija za bilo kakav društveni uspon, i svi to znaju. Šef i dalje ćuti, a prepadnuti dvorjani se nadaju samo u najmoćnije adrese: Boga i Šefa. Ne nužno tim redosljedom. Znaju da samo i jedino On (odnosi se na Šefa, izvini Svevišnji) može imati neko rješenje. Spasonosno, kao i uvijek. Ipak, ćute, Stvari ne idu kako treba... Šef najednom ustaje, laganim i sigurnim korakom odlazi do balkona. Odnekud se stvorio i šešir, klasični stetson. Šef ga stavlja na glavu, tek da podsjeti na Roberta Divala u legendarnoj sceni iz Kopoline “Apokalipse”. Pogleda svoj glavni grad na dan izbora. I izgovara: “Kako volim miris državnog udara ujutro”. I sve bi riješeno. Ko zna - zna.” (Balša Brković, “Udar”)

Na 101. godišnjicu smrti Velimira Rajića

НА ДАН ЊЕНОГ ВЕНЧАЊА

И срушише се лепи снови моји, Јер главу твоју венац сад покрива, Крај тебе други пред олтаром стоји- Проста ти била моја љубав жива! Честит'о сам ти. И ти рече “Хвала!”…  А да ли знадеш да се у том часу Гранитна зграда мојих идеала Сруши и смрви и у пеп’о расу? Ал’ не! Не видим од тога ни сена;  По твом лицу радост се разлива... И свршено је! Ти си сада жена- Проста ти била моја љубав жива! Ја нећу клети ни њега ни тебе,  Ни горку судбу што сам тебе срео; Ја нећу клети чак ни самог себе, Јер ја бих тиме своју љубав клео. И нашто клетве! Нашто ружне речи?  О срећи својој човек вазда снива; Бол, јад и патњу смрт једино лечи. Проста ти била моја љубав жива! Па пођи с Богом! Још ти могу рећи:  Да Бог да сунце среће да ти сија! Све што год почнеш свршила у срећи! Са твоје среће бићу срећан и ја. И сваког дана ја ћу да се молим  Кад звоно верне у цркву позива... Ја нисам знао да те тако волим. Проста ти била моја љубав жива! Чуј, Боже, молбу моје душе јадне:  Сва патња што си пис’о њој, ко жени, Нек’ мимоиђе њу, и нек падне На онај део што је писан мени! Услиши ову молитву, о Боже!  И душа ће ми мирно да почива; И шапутаће вечно, док год може: Проста ти била моја љубав жива! И онда када дође оно доба  У ком ће земља тело да ми скрива, Чућеш и опет са дна мога гроба: "Проста ти била моја љубав жива!”

Iskustvo ljubavi se ne prenosi

Ljubav je strašna stvar. Šta da vam kažem? Na ljubavnom iskustvu drugih ne može se učiti. Svaki susret između muškarca i žene započinje kao da je to prvi susret na svetu. Kao da nije bilo od Adama i Eve naovamo milijarde takvih susreta.

A, vidite, iskustvo ljubavi se ne prenosi. To je veliko zlo. I velika sreća. Bog je to tako uredio. Budite oprezni. Nemojte nikoga povrediti. Ljubavne rane ostaju najdublje urezane u duši. I nemojte da vam literatura zameni ljubav. I literatura je opasna. Život se ne može zameniti ničim.”

(„Lauta i ožiljci” 1994)

Danilo Kiš