Monday, October 17, 2011

posvećeno Džonu O’Brajenu, autoru romana Leaving Las Vegas

Leaving Las Vegas
Za Džona O’Brajena
Teško mi je da osvetlim sve razloge zbog kojih čuvam petnaest godina sećanje na čuveni film Majka Figisa Leaving Las Vegas, rađen po romanu Džona O’Brajena. Po mnogo čemu glavni junak Ben Sanderson je prilično verna verzija pisca. Temom samožrtvovanja film duboko dotiče samu suštinu ljubavi, ne samo romantične.
Pored ovog uznemirujućeg filma, kroz ovu prozu prosijavaju u nešto drugačijem tonu još dva koja spadaju u moju ličnu antologiju - film Devet i po nedelja i, naravno, Kill Bill.
Antologiju čega?
Važno mi je da nešto vidim na filmu.Tek onda postane stvarnije od stvarnosti. Nisu svi moji ljudi bili tamo gde sam ja bila, a junaci Figisa ili Tarantina jesu. Džon O’Brajen je bio, sumnje nema.
Postoji jedna vrsta ženskog mazohizma, jedna vrlo određena vrsta ženske upornosti da se ide do kraja po svaku cenu, za koju sam skoro sigurna da se već nalazi u katalogu dijagnoza svetske zdravstvene organizacije. Naklonost prema samo jednom biću na svetu, nekontrolisina, ona je ženska, kaže Margaret Diras.
Tom vrstom ženskog samospaljivanja bavim se na neki način i u novoj knjizi poezije Poludragi. I lepa Žana Ebitern, Modiljanijev supermodel, mogla bi da kaže, to što u priči govori moja unutrašnja Elizabet, junakinja Devet i po nedelja: Kako si znao da ću biti takva prema tebi? A mogla bi da kaže i Šarlota de Korde, na svoj crni način.
Mogla bi da kaže i Marijana Vigins, koja je otišla dobrovoljno u sklonište sa suprugom Salmanom Rušdijem, dok je bio izložen opasnosti da bude ubijen na licu mesta.
Mogla bih to da kažem i ja.
Well, so be it!
Priča Ko zna da je ljubav slepa je priča u priči, neka vrsta bajalice. Dok sam je pisala, neko je stvarno bio u Las Vegasu, gde žive moj unutrašnji Ben i moja Sera. Ja sam Las Vegas. Kad je došlo vreme da pročita priču, rekao je ponosno: Ne brini, razumeću”… Džaba sam krečila. Stiže pitanje: “A ko ti je taj Ben Sanderson?”
Pravo pitanje glasi – a ko je tebi Ben Sanderson?
Nedavno je priču na engleskom pročitao neko ko već dugo nije u mom životu, i gle čuda, podvukao crvenim delove koji se, smatra on, ekskluzivno odnose na njega. OŽIVEO čovek, kao na filmu. U moju pesmu kô u svoju baštu, hoću da kažem.
Filmska kumulacija, filmska brzina i njen vampirski žar, filmska muzika koja nas proganja do nivoa halucinacija, sve te silne projekcije naših najdubljih vizija – to mora da ostavlja posledice ako se šetkamo među javom i međ snom.
Neko je još na samom početku filmske istorije, primetio kako na platnu pred nama igraju mrtvi ljudi, prazne ljušture. Neodoljivo su mi potrebni ti probrani onirički prizori, hologrami, duhovi, opiljci. To je meni nešto kao holter. Čujem kako šumi stomačna aorta, kao na ultrazvuku.
Neophodne su mi filmske infuzije, mantra - veće od života.
Ja sam od onih ljudi koji misle da kraj može da se izmeni.
Da je sve reverzibilno.
Zato pišem.
I posvećujem ovaj tekst Džonu O’Brajenu, koji se ubio samo dve nedelje pošto je potpisao ugovor za snimanje filma Leaving Las Vegas po sopstvenom romanu.
Sve je tu veće od života.

Severni bunker, Književnost i film - Ko zna da je ljubav slepa

Marija Midžović

Ko zna da je ljubav slepa

Treba mnogo voleti muškarce. Mnogo, mnogo. Mnogo ih voleti da bismo ih voleli. Bez toga, ne bi bilo moguće, ne bismo mogle da ih podnesemo.

Margueritte Duras

Danas je teško ugovoriti sastanak, a još teže izabrati dan venčanja. Najčešće kad ja mogu i hoću da se venčamo, on nije u gradu, kad je on raspoložen ja duboko sumnjam da je on onaj pravi. Kad je on onaj pravi ja sam upravo gledala film Eastern Promises i Viga Mortensena i htela bih nekog tetoviranog i talentovanog da me zasmeje i razbije maler. A kad on podivlja od ljubavi, ja vidim da nemam bele cipele na visoku petu.

Ja živim u mentalnom, sunčanom potkrovlju i mogu (a i ne moram) da se udam svakog trenutka, samo ako znam tačno vreme i gde su mi one cipele. Doduše, ponekad sam zauzeta ili se stara ljubav vratila u grad naše mladosti i čitav dan pravim voštane figure. Zaluđujem se neko vreme, pa me napusti koncentracija. Brak mi retko padne na pamet.

Nisam idealna verenica, to priznajem. Ali, i ja gledam danima romantične filmove. Uhvatim sebe kako bubam rečenice, koje će sakriti koliko ga volim. Otvaram usta i pustim da iz mene progovore junakinje mojih omiljenih filmova.

Kako si znao da ću biti takva prema tebi, pita moja unutrašnja Elizabet.

How did you know ? How did you know I’d respond to you the way I did?( Elizabeth)

On čuje samo isklesane, zagrcnute poslednje reči, sa kraja filma, kad sva srca stanu mirno a u vazduhu visi ona jedna jedina nota. Naravno da se uplaši i treba da se smrzne.

U tebi sam video sebe, kaže njegov dubler.

I saw myself in you.

To have and to hold

Ali, on ima neuporedivo više vereničkog optimizma i istrajnosti, kao da nismo sa iste planete. Pretvori se očas u najboljeg čoveka na svetu, popne se na trambulinu , pridikuje i tera me da čitam obaveznu lektiru za stupanje u brak. Bibliju, Stendala, S. Ficdžeralda, S.Sremca i naravno Lazu Kostića. Ja se smesta uozbiljim i brže bolje vežbam teške fraze i preslišavam se naglas. On je strpljiviji od neba, spreman je vekovima da čeka jer zna da je za brak potrebno dvoje. Čudna reč monogamija.

Paskal

Složili smo se da ćemo za venčanje uzeti veliku, belu tortu na sprat sa kratkim vencem od crvenih ruža, za poneti, takozvani take away. Tortu sam videla na venčanju u Las Vegasu, koji je antiteza svakom braku, uprkos brojnim kapelama od kojih vrvi grad svezemaljskog greha, gde je čovek samo broj sobe. Zar to nije pravo mesto da se žena zakune muškarcu i on njoj da sve što imaju stave na jednu kartu – datum venčanja. Ništa nas ne sprečava da zapucamo zajedno u Las Vegas. Svakom grešniku potreban je mali, besmislen predah u vidu blagoslova, a pravednik je bezbedan i dovoljno jak da ga podnese.

Las Vegas, kao i svaki grad, država, selo ili šuma, sastavljen je mahom od grešnika koji misle da su pravednici i pravednika koji misle da su grešnici. I to je poslednji ostatak Božanske globalne volje i rezultat pogleda sa veće visine. Ja sam aritmetička sredina grešnice i pravednice. On je iznad razlomačke crte jer ne bi grešio ni u najvećem ludilu. Zato sam, dva puta uzastopno, duboko razmislila kada me je, na moje zaprepašćenje, zaprosio. Komplikovana žena kao što sam ja ne udaje samo zato što neko želi da se njome oženi. Prosidbeni ispad preporučujem samo najžilavijim, najbolje uhranjenim, drčnim muškarcima , koji su već ostavili gomile teških ranjenica širom sveta da ih reanimiraju na licu mesta, u vozilu hitne pomoć. To su oni što vole sirene i glasnu muziku.

Malarme, Kidman

Moj prefinjeni, dobro kalibrirani unutrašnji fotofiniš uvek pokaže da li je muško srce smežurana, plava suva šljiva ili mesnata perunika, divlja orhideja, olovna vojničina, upijač za mastilo. Teško je zamisliti sve ono što sam uspela da iščupam iz muških grudi, još teže ono što nisam. Poznajem zamke operacije na otvorenom srcu.

Tom Kruz ima skraćeno ahilovsko , depilirano poprsje kome prede sajentološki sef. Ipak, u srcu želim da nadjem samo kucanje, pijuk, šum koji igra, ne tražim ja New Age lutku za ubadanje igala, ma koliko bila seksi. Ali, neka Bog poživi Kruza. Kad tanana princeza Nikol Kidman baci na zid svog , sada ex, lepog, plavookog muža, zakuca ga sa obe ruke onako visoka i tankovijasta i počne da ga ljubi, e, to ljubljenje ne prestaje kad kamere stanu.

Eto, danas sam i ja spremna da sudjenika nateram da mi se preda, u zanosu kao ova lepa, australijska ruža, makar se malo i obrukala kad mi krene žica na devojačkoj časti. Pa i Kidmanki je u početku bilo malo neprijatno da razbija Kruza o zid, a posle nije mogla da prestane, sve dok mu nije slomila ključnu kost. Ni ti nemaš kud, čuje se samo tvoj nemoćni blagi uzdah prihvatanja.

Vidim da se ti moj dragane više ne plašiš to malo Las Vegasa, jektičave, suve pustinjske naseobine u večernjoj garderobi. Zar to nije grad u kome su ljudi spremni da sve daju za sreću i venčaju se između dva bacanja kocki, koje nikada neće promeniti slučaj.

Dok nas nešto ne rastavi

I sad smo tu gde jesmo. Tu su bele cipele i crvene ruže, torta koja čeka prvog ženidbenog namernika i muzika Toma Vejtsa. To je dan kada se jedino kaže „da“, pa onda triler „Dok nas smrt ne rastavi“. Tvrdnja neodljivo romantična i puna nade. Prava ljubav uopšte nije lek već, naprotiv, zagrcnuta mašina koja radi samo dok pevaju anđeli, a kad okrenu leđa i igraju klikere, nastane tako strašna tišina da se ljubavnom paru tresu kosti. Oni razumni ponekad žele da ih nešto uspešno rastavi. Samo je taj rejv gori od bele kuge.

Kad im dosadi, anđeli pokupe klikere, podele ih među sobom, strpaju u male heklane kesice i zvižduću. Počnu opet da mašu krilima a on mi kaže iz čista mira „Ti si najlepša žena koju sam video“. Neću ni da čujem refren dok nas smrt ne rastavi. Ovu mantru ću dobro sakriti , kao kapsulu cijanida, koju belosvetski avanturisti nose u unutrašnjem džepu, za ne daj Bože. Ova spadala ne podnose bol, a ja ne podnosim užas. Bol je znak života.

Ako Bog ne bude imao vremena da rastavi što je sastavio, a danas je često na to primoran jer je zahteva za razvod više nego što je zakazanih venčanja, moraću kao i uvek sama da se snađem. Muka je Svevišnjem i torta za svaki dan i javnu upotrebu, ali njega detalji sve manje interesuju. Čak i njega, poznatog po beskrajnom strpljenju i ljubavi, zamara vrtoglava brzina s kojom se naprasno menjaju dobri običaji. Nije presrećan što mora svakodnevno da vrši reviziju ranije započetih srećnih zajednica, koje su počivale, pored ostalog i na ozbiljnim receptima za kolače koji se čuvaju kao porodični dragulji.

Dobrota tvoja bolja je od života

Nema više pravih, bogobojažljivih, primerenih torti na sprat, ova tvoja je prava favela od torte, snadji se nevesto, ja sam ipak zadužen samo da vas držim u životu dok se ne sretnete. Ili, da to možda sprečim, ali ja nekako ne verujem u prirodnu selekciju ni u tu vašu telesnu hemiju, sami vadite kestenje iz vatre. Iskamčili ste moj pristanak da sami nađete svoju duhovnu i biološku polovinu. Neću se mešati, vidim da mi trenutno ne idu romantične veze, ali ne znam ko greši vi li ja. Ili si deo rešenja ili si deo problema. Čuo sam vas da to govorite.

Evropska i druge zajednice

Ja bih platila prevoz i pozvala Ketlin Brenan da nas venča, ne želim matičara i popa, muškarca, još manje maskiranog u Elvisa Prislija. Posle ću kao udata žena popiti čašu šampanjca, pa i burbona, sa Ketlininim mužem Tomom Vejtsom. Udatoj ženi se veruje kad digne čašu naočitom gostu.

Devojci svi brane da očijuka, iako je to dobro za razvoj inteligencije pa i za hormonalni status i zato se uvek osećam kao devojčura kad me neko gleda bezobrazno, hvala na pitanju. Sve međunarodne institucije kažu da meni iz nerazvijene zemlje uopšte ne treba večernja pratnja. Ja sam preživela bombardovanje i sada sam možda zrela i za udaju, za flertovanje, to ne. To sam preskočila u razvoju. Doduše izvesno je da iskustvo neposredne smrtne opasnosti može da utiče na donošenje bračne odluke kao i na određenu dozu opuštenosti i nezainteresovanosti, pogrešno nazvanu karasevdah. Ali, ne nužno.

Ako Bog da

Svako koga su bombardovali zna da odluku donose brzo. Torta za poneti je idealna kad je tvoj život brži od tebe. Moderna žena donosi odluke u magnovenju, kada se, recimo promeni padajuća meni na aerodromskom displeju. Ako me u trenu neodlučnosti zatekne poziv za prvi let za Pariz, okrenem aerdomska kolica za 180 stepeni i zaboravim da sam upletena u neku traljavu veridbu, bilo domaću bilo međunarodnu. Niko ne sme da me pita gde sam nestala.

Ali i mahnite ženske odluke se preispituju na aerodromu i carini. Kakav je to dert, kad biste samo znali. Pravo mesto da se oslušne plameni jezičak nedoumice, dok te carinici požuruju.

Moj muž je čovek na mestu, baš kao i scenarista Ben Sanderson, s tom razlikom što nije došao da se ubije u Vegasu alkoholom. Ni ja nisam uličarka zlatnog srca sa vegaskih pločnika, mada sam malo trashy, što ne znači da ga ne volim isto onako kako je Sera volela Bena, kaže moj plameni lakmus. To je mera, više a ni manje se ne može. Ja ću kao i Sera u Vegasu postati poštena žena i voleću ga sa ili bez njegove dozvole očajnički, neumorno, samoubilački, iscrpljujuće, nekontrolisano, raspadajući se na ono od čega sam sazdana. Jednom u životu, ako Bog da.

Brak će me spasti svih aerodromskih iskušenja. Njega će ushititi novi horizonti, duboko zamišljena bračna saputnica pa i mogućnost da lično sretne Vejtsa.

Hladnija od smrti i slađa od svega

Eh, ta torta. Pre svega ona po definicji nije bajata, to ne može da se desi u Vegasu, gde se brzo rasprodaju rekviziti, a naročito oni za venčani rijaliti šou. Takve torte naprosto nestaju smesta sa pulta. Dok se na jednoj zaokruži venac od šlaga, ma nije se ni uhvatila kora a već utrči visoka mlada žena u žutoj trenerci. Smeje se čudno, uliva strah u kosti, i kaže: Dajte mi, kad vas lepo molim, odmah ovu tortu, čeka me napolju verenik na motoru. Nama se žuri, trenutno imamo odlične astrološke aspekte a i mnogo se volimo. Molim vas, jedva sam ga naterala da prizna da me voli, dok mu zuji u glavi, i da kaubojski šešir zameni cilindrom pa, budite dobri, i spakujte odmah tortu da mi se ispuni konačno ova nemoguća želja. Živote možete da zadržite.

Posle kratke ali slatke jeze, sažale se dobroćudni, namazani kuvari, ti izdajnici iz Verone, i daju svaki put instant tortu. Onda smesta, veselo dok im se smeje žabarski brk, otrče da ispeku novi patišpanj. Pošto im se to gotovo redovno dešava, drže gotovu smesu, uvek u frižideru. A i strašna je ona riba u žutoj trenerci, teško se zaspi posle njene grdnje a kamoli molbe. To zna i Tarantino.

Upisan

Poluodmrznuta torta i šampanjac biće pravi simbol braka dvoje nespojivih ljudi koji su izabrali jedno drugo da bi im život bio više od razlomka. Bez njega, mlada ne zna šta bi sa sobom, dosta joj je poznatih i nepoznatih obožavalaca i čini se kao da njen perpetuirani hedonizam nema kraj. Nema ko da me zaustavi i overi. Vratanca na mom čistom, uvek spremnom srcu lupkaju sablasno.

Lep kao devojka, Toplica Milan, Lanselot, Ajvanho. Odmah sam shvatila da nije važno od čega je torta napravljena, važna je samo filmska brzina i dostava u minut do 12. Možda bi trebalo tu tortu naručiti dok Bog još ćuti i ja pomalo naivno verujem da mogu sve sama i da će uvek biti dugih popodneva, da se klati papučicama i pije kafa na mediteranskoj strani, pa časkom preko puta u Kazablanki, opušteno udari po čaju. Uvek će biti neba i zemlje i borovine i medovine i ruzmarina i rastanaka ispred aviona. Ali, srećom i Vegas je pun brzih torti u skladu sa bojom venčanice i dizajnerom.

Kasnije, biće vremena za istraživanje potencijala tajanstvene pregrade u srcu iza koje se kriju miševi i lešine što reče Dž. Barns.

Petlja

Ali, sada ga ludo volim i jedino me zanima kako da sa njim podelim radosno zalogaj torte koja je bila namenjena nekom drugom. Ukratko, da li ja imam stomak za to. Pitam i njega. Kratko kaže da torta može smesta da se pokupi i u nekoj pariskoj pekari, moramo da požurimo da nam ne pobegne taj čarobni trenutak kada smo u trenu videli jedno drugom iznad glave zlatni oreol. Pristajem na sva rešenja, samo da se ceremonija organizuje brzo, jedino uporno tražim Vegas i famoznu Ketlin Brenan. Naravno, ako ima vremena i nije u kreativnom amoku. Doduše i meni se to dešava, upravo sada dok ovo pišem i ljubav prema njemu je zasenila sve moje follies, pa čak i ove redove.

Nema više iznenadjenja, on naoko razume zašto volim samo njega od svih pravednika i grešnika, koji neprekidno sumnjaju u sebe, držeći ovaj svet u nepodnošljivoj ravnoteži. Jer, šta bi bilo kad bismo znali težinu svakog greha i poštenja. Da li bi bilo brakova i venčanja? Ne verujem. Ljubavi, da. Više nego što bi se očekivalo.

Više od petlje

Oboje smo rekli „da“ u istom trenutku, gotovo uglas i složili se konačno oko portabl torte. I zašto bi u tom ili nekom drugom pogledu bilo nesuglasica kad smo tokom onog vedrog i malo nestašnog popodneva jedno drugom isprobavali nevidljive oreole. Meni je stajao nekako nakrivo, nisam sebe mogla da prepoznam u njegovim očima, dok je njemu sasvim prirodno da u njega gledam kao u Boga, da ne dišem za to vreme, da ga poljubim slobodno samo zato što je to on. I on istog trena uzvrati poljubac, kao da je sav od šećera celca.

Ništa te ne pitam

Lepe su ti te bele cipele, kao stvorene za večanje. Imaš ukusa i dopada mi se kad si malo viša od mene, to je tako hip-hop. Nemoj ni slučajno ništa drugo da obuješ čak i ako si odustala od bele haljine. Mnogo sam srećan što ćemo izgledati nenadmašno. Lepša si od svake pop pevačice i moja si, to me čini srećnim a tebe dostojnom ne samo javnih nastupa već i dubokih, plišanih noći kada ćeš videti da ću te voleti do kraja života. Pa je’ l ti ličim ja na ludaka, samo obuj molim te baš te cipele, kasnimo, sumnjam da će torta izdržati pod pustinjskim suncem. Može i Vejtsu da pukne film, samo se okrene i ode, ako torta počne da se ruši, on je prilično emotivan. Bele cipele te krase, ne smeš da budeš nervozna, vidiš kako sam ja spokojan, zadržao sam hladnokrvnost, ništa te nisam pitao kad si se za pet minuta vratila, izubijana, sa tortom. Ali, mnogo se držiš iznad situacije, ja preuzimam odavde komandu, sečem tortu sabljom kao Bekam kad se venčao sa Viktorijom. Ne mogu više da ti povladjujem, ovde se sada zna ko nosi pantalone, cepa tortu i šutira loptu.

No time like present

I još, kad malo bolje razmislim,odlično što nas već čeka neka torta, makar i tuđa. Ljubav ne mora da čeka, ljubav nije nikog čekala i torte na točkiće su živi dokaz da sve može doći na mesto i bez naše volje i plana, kada se više nismo nadali. Život nema reprizu.There is no time like present, rekli bi Amerikanci, a oni su izmislili Las Vegas, eh kakva imaginacija i bes. Jedino što će mi svake godine Vejts i Ketlin dolaziti na slavu i moram da im čestitam redovno Novu godinu i Božić, setno kaže moj čovek.

Dala sam ti tone slobodne volje

Hajde da se venčamo brzo, dok ovaj svet još postoji i andjeli prekidaju svoje dečije igre. Ove cipele su stvarno previsoke, nemoj da me teraš da dugo stojim u njima, tone mi štikla, kažem ja .

I počnem da plačem i da se smejem u isto vreme, kao svaka ushićena, blago pripita mlada, koju je udarila sunčanica.

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Marija Midžović


DOZVOLJENI MINUS

Orgije mrzim, rimsko

bunilo, kad nekog otmu

usred dana. Masne fote.


Masovni grobovi i

grobovi garsonjere.


Malo probušen.

Stavljam reči u njegova

usta. Kamenoresci u čudu.

Nema većeg ognja.

Jedem ljude, oni jedu

mene. Rođena glumica.

Praznog srca.


Srpski Marija.

U lizezi od bordo pliša,

koju prostiji svet

naziva bolero.


Sevnu muške grudi,

vrata egipatskog

carstva.


Kralja Petra garda.

Gospodin Foka.

Crni lak za nokte.


Vera u Boga

kod devojčice

najduže traje.


Književni magazin- trobroj posvećen desetogodišnjici izlaženja


Monday, August 29, 2011

Goran Lazičić, prikaz knjige Poludragi, Blic knjiga, 21.08

POLUDRAGI

AUTOR: Marija Midžović

IZDAVAČ: Gradac

BROJ STRANA: 32

POVEZ: mek, s omotom

ISBN: 978-86-83507-71-9 (GK)

CENA: 334 dinara

OVO JE ZBIRKA PESAMA poznate, ali na sceni ne toliko prisutne autorke. Ostajući na tragu prethodne zbrike „Beogradska sirotica“, Marija Midžović piše poeziju modernog senzibiliteta i razgranate intertekstualnosti, objedinjujući mitologiju, folklor, istoriju, visoku književnost, film, popularnu kulturu, svakodnevicu potrošačkog društva: Amazon, manastiri i freske, Tarantinova mlada i devojka brža od konja, beogradsko proleće „na suvom i hladnom mestu“, petrogradske pesnikinje, kalcijum u kostima, Nojeva barka i Hičkokove ptice, Barton na Sutjesci, Verlen i jazavac pred sudom, Marija Antoaneta i devojke zazidane u Skadar „pod suncem solarijuma“, šumeće tablete i Ema Bovari...

U ZBIRCI SE MOGU PROČITATI mahom kratke pesme, koje jezički i semantički korespondiraju sa savremenim dobom, jer sugerišu fragmentarnost, nestabilnost i neuhvatljivost značenja i smisla u svetu oko nas. Pesma nastaje kao nepredvidljivi asocijativni tok misli (i emocija) i donosi rafiniranu ironiju i naročitu „antisentimentalnost“, čak i kada ima elegičnan ton. Ova poezija je subverzivna, ali je daleko od banalnosti kojima angažovane feminističke pesnikinje ne tako retko podležu. Na kraju, ali možda najbitnije: ova poezija je zabavna.

KADA BI STIHOVI MENJALI KOSMOS, OVI BI GA POKRENULI: „Na mene je/ red da vam pokažem/ crnu čipku diskobolosa.“

LIRSKI SUBJEKAT OVE KNJIGE JE (MUŠKI, ŽENSKI ILI...): svakako ženski, ali intelektualno ženski. Tačnije, „poluženski“ (što ne znači i da je „polumuški“). On(a) uobličava autentično (post)feminističko iskustvo, koje bi se moglo nazvati „postfeminističkim stoicizmom“, ili, kako bi rekla Radmila Lazić, radi se o „nekastriranoj postmodernoj ženskosti“.

KADA BIH KRENUO NA PUT, OVU KNJIGU PONEO BIH: Zbirku „Poludragi“ obavezno treba pročitati, kod kuće ili na putu, svejedno. Ali pošto ona nesumnjivo traži obaveštene čitaoce i ljubitelje poezije – drugim rečim pravog, a ne „polučitaoca“ – možda je ipak bolje ostaviti je za posle odmora, pa onda na miru uživati.

Goran Lazičić

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Elizabeth Taylor of mine

Huge and massive response of media and people all around the world on the news of death of beautiful goddess Elizabeth Taylor was not surprise. She was the model of person larger then life.
My personal affection for this grande dame come not from her artistic background, which is huge and made her a legend but more from her lifestyle, energy, feminine aura and power of rebirth.
Her marriages are fascinating. Divorces, also. Double wedding with Richard Burton- priceless, like entire relation which seemed pretty genuine for film industry world.
I loved the way she was getting old, no drama pure example of getting old like cathedral. Always keeping strong feminine caprices , like when she was marrying truck driver hunk, with blonde hair. No, she was not embarking marriage in the old age trying to make safe contract with some male zombie of her age, to keep her company till death them apart and unplug her from the respiratory machine & give her proper funeral. Oh, no. She lived her seventies like she was moody prom queen.
In the rainy days/ and there are number of them when you are queen/, depressed, she was sitting at home, in her pajamas, not answering the phone, gaining g weight, eating tones of chocolate, running her race to Betty Ford clinic. Oh, how I loved her zero diets, solely with a lot of alcohol!(Yes, I've tried it, by chance!) Next moment she was like phoenix raising from the ashes in her super sexy evening gowns, attending number of charity dinners and social gatherings, fighting AIDS. Or she was proposed and appeared on the cover poages one more time with bridal tiara and diamonds. Chocolate this time was only a marital aphrodisiac, as well as diamonds!
This kind of vital feminine energy for me is a as you like to say EPIC, that empty word, except when applied on ET!
If I had chance to live in Hollywood almost certainly I would do my best to to meet her, as journalist.
Did we had anything in common/ if the small can be compared with grand/ as Latins used to say? Oh, yes we did. I now you are laughing now, but I don't care, cause you are not her. We share same astro conjunction Venus- Uranus, which always brings exciting private and emotional life. So I understand to some extent her life zest, being reborn every single day, her transformations and rejuvenations, fun and legendary, royal love life.
Now , want to say Good buy, one and only Elizabeth Taylor.
I love you.
I respect you.
I envy you.


Monday, March 28, 2011

Public reading in KCB

Public reading , from my second book of poetry Semi-precious. Fellow poets were great and focused - in a a way we can recall scent Rembrandt's famous painting Anatomy lesson .
But, no good remark on my queen mother posture - could do better supermodel's Mom appearance, with my 175 cm:))
Ok, too much fun, I know.
I express my gratitude to the people from Cultural center from Belgrade Mrs Dobrila Ibrajter& Mr Marjan Cakarevic for introducing my writing with such great honor and for their hard work and hospitality.
Zavrsno vece trodnevne manifestacije povodom Svetskog dana poezije u Kulturnom centru Beograda, koncept Ana Ristovic
Na slici sleva na desno Zeljko Mitic, Dejan Ilic, Dejana Nikolic, Danica Vukicevic, Marija Midzovic, Tamara Suskic, Jelena Lengold, Carna Popovic, Jasmina Topic, Milan Dobricic i Mirjana Sefanovic

Svetski dan poezije

http://www.blic.rs/Kultura/Vesti/242556/Poezija-i-u-tramvajima

Sunday, March 20, 2011

On AI, SK and other women of greatness

Tonight in Belgrade poets are gong to mark Worlds poetry day, by very colorful and vivid concept developed by Serbian poet Ana Ristovic.
I have chosen to read someone else's poetry. I enjoy honoring great writers, who are my building blocks. I have chosen AI, as symbol of all those women who made difference in my life. It would- could have been disaster, for someone like me, if we didn't have chance to read this kind of genuine feminine poetry. Things would be , for me, personally more rough. They made me stable and proud and sticking to my own thing. I am not saying I would't be here without them, for example my youth trip to London in my twenties was also experience of my life/put me in perspective, years in journalism, a number of great people... many more things made me the way I am now.
BUT those female voices were truly precious / i understood then as I know now great truth: disadvantages are advantages! This is the catch.
You can't scare me easily- thanks to my great witnesses. I am sure men don't understand this kind of voices and the thing what we gained for ourselves, maybe only a few good and nice and open men who encourage us do so. But as my great friend SK, american poet, says there hadn't been too many of them. Never will be.
In Serbia it is not nice to say aloud you'r feminist/ mostly because of very low level of understanding in media of modern processes in general. Women are also part of this conspiracy/ pointing very often in public they are not feminist. I also hate labels and maybe would say I am not feminist, cause I feel myself multifaceted but, yes I am going to resist and endure anybodies pettiness and discrimination firmly and permanently.
Man who don't tolerate us being appointed editor/in/chiefs, CEO's, generals, bishops or directors and so on/ those man are bullies. They bully other guys too. Women can bully other women and men too.
That's why feminine writers mean a world. Gender means also, cause gender is/was problem, check Vida report.
So I will recite the poem Woman to a man tonight, by AI. I could recite as well Wallace Stevens also or Novica Tadic/ because of their grandeur.
But as daily Blic quoted AI is my choice http://www.blic.rs/Kultura/Vesti/242556/Poezija-i-u-tramvajima I will gladly read AI, cause I've always liked her poetry.
For example how she was so ladylike when she wrote motto "To Willam Dafoe, my Muse this time"...and so on. my Muse THIS TIME- Wow!

For now I am honoring AI cause she passed away, last March and cause she is a part of me.




Wednesday, March 16, 2011

On journalism/journalists

need to say few things on this gorgeous profession/ always excited with bitter, overcritical & emotional response from the non-journalists and prejudices. We have to admit this is mythical profession, by all means. Legendary. When I was applying to Annenberg school of journalism I was very thrilled to join their course on image oh journalist in Hollywood movies. Wow! Yes, there is a myth on being journalist which can be compared with great sports careers, politicians, care racers, scientists, super models, writers and any other public figure.
Journalism is likes sport championship/ makes you be better of yourself everyday, makes you better informed, enlarges your views and, more then that, puts your point of view and moral judgement on trial. On the other hand, there is so fast gratification/ comes in less then 24 hours. You always know/ when you have dunked and made your competitors suffer great deal! And so know everyone else That is all part of media magic. You travel. You meet people.You drink and you smoke and then you quit all that stuff. Then you start again:) You make great acquaintances for life, you have chance to talk with people who meter and more then that/ you have chance to ask them every possible thing . Also, those conversations continue often even when the recorder is off. Being journalist put you in the eye of the storm personally/ you face inner limitations and have to fix them as you have to face deadlines, pressure, burn out. You face consequences of your words and work . Sometimes you change things for better. Unfortunately, sometimes people who just work as journalist/ but are not true journalist/ they make things ugly. We've seen a lot of that in Serbia and in neighbor countries.
But still/ proud to be journalist. Also a writer/ published author, in anthologies../I respect my journalistic work and experience A LOT. It gives to the writer data, experiences, sharpness, focus, moral edge, faces and places, power and need to change quickly point of view.... People often make comparison between those two professions on the expense of journalism. Oh, no sirs! Great writers are great writers/ they can express themselves in every possible way!
This mean remarks have to do with envy/ journalist have aura. Like olive branch crown/ that' how people secretly feel about media people. They don't fantasies anymore about life of writers/ they are considered freaks for centuries.
But, journalists they embody all the mysteries following life of great writers combined with everyday fuss of fast living and novelty,simply they are more flash and blood then writers. They are heroes and I know what it takes to have great story and be the first one to announce something that meters to all of us.
For Serbian crowed and journalistic quilt in the war coverage and provoking the war/it is important that you understand/ there were volunteers in all media ready to do that. No genuine journalist was ever on the side of the war. In journalism, as in all other profession there are mercenaries.
Also need to point one more thing/ journalism makes you at the same time outsider and important critic. No other professon gives this double perspecitve: being in and being apart, being social and antisocial, being opinion maker and just observer, at the same time.
Shall I add know that famous sentence/
you can follow me on Twitter, just add r?
@mrsbelgrade

Sunday, February 6, 2011

latest issue of Literary magazine, I did as editor/in/chief http://www.skd.rs/magazin-112-113-114.pdf

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Novica Tadic - Death of poet

When I've heard Novica Tadic, greatest Serbian poet of our times have passed away I was terribly sad and upset in that special way. I am not going to share personal memories on short conversations we shared, throughout last 15 years. I want to capture darkness and feeling of hopelessness I was overwhelmed by like most of us , who live in the house of modern Serbian literature, being told about Novica's departure.
No one can come even close to his dark and courageous visions put so marvelously and disciplined in the frame of Serbian language. We are always fascinated with this special kind of doomed poets, poetes maudits or lets say in american manner : haunted. They are well known dark avenue of poetic expression, we could name classical. Those visions ceratinly appear in prose writing, delivering ultimate dark truths in a different, more direct way. In poetry horrors are petrified, barking and screaming their tune to us, but in a shape of cold, dark gem stones, elaborated in the concise, poetic way.
When I was younger didn't completely understand the essence of their expression / I was thinking about those poets as adorable princes of darkness, beautiful and picturesque emanation of horrific artistic origin. Loved haunted poets, so many of them, Lautreamont, E.A.Po, Baudelaire, Rimbaud or novelists, like Conrad, Celine, Ballard and many, many more...Today I know those were/are men who simply did /do care. Their unique talent delivered this horrific visions as their expression of empathy with hardest and most hurtful and dangerous conditions poisoning and tearing apart our human essence.
Takes genuine human dignity to rise to this level of complete expression of poet's vision. The very idea elaborating the most unbearable conditions of our existence is possible, it is a healing by itself, salvation in a word. When it is accomplished with such genial talent, like Novica Tadic did, we can't but feel being saved by one man's human sacrifice and courage. And kindness, above all. Kindness is the key the word I would use as essential hallmark of this great writer and unusual man.
When he is gone/ if he is gone / the world is more dangerous and ugly place, without God again. That's why Novica's departure makes us feel abandoned and unbearable alone again.
Me, also - to the highest extent of human sorrow.
Zen masters say absence of master is infinitely long.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

How I wrote Hadrian's memoires

Still enjoying Voltaire. What a style! I envy, envy him. Studied Latin and Greek/ maybe I am a probably soft and prone to roman architecture of language. Not to mention I was brought up in the family where kids, including my father, were thought French from early childhood, before WWII.
I don't speak French, except some love French, we all have to know, as we have to be good in English to use technology or Italian to enjoy pasta.
Need to say my personal library is fairly packed with equal number of French and English writers, Americans are on the separate floor - they are dangerous, Latin Americans are partying in the penthouse all the time, Serbian writers live on the ground floor to meet and greet foreigners in our part of the world. Russians play chess in the salon and occasionally have firearms duels in he woods. Afraid to follow them to the woods, I carefully enjoy this vintage gents stories on paper / loving Puskin madly. In fact, all of the writers inhabiting my mental haven make my face pale and my heart trembling with fear, from time to time!

Those deeply personal favorites I take everywhere with me/ from kitchen to bedroom.

Conrad, V.Hugo, Lispector, Cortasar, Duras, Coetzee, D.W. Foster, Ballard, Lispector, Pynchon, S.F. Fitzgerald, Blok, Bartelmi, Twain, Cvetaeva, Carlyle, Simone Weil and many, many more.

Once we played game in the office , choosing which writer we would like to be, meaning the classic book we would like to be written by us. Well, I killed other competitors/ choosing for myself Hadrian's memoirs by Marguerite Yourcenar.

The rest was silence in the office!

This has to do with that ghostly, cannibalistic quality of literature - like baying typing machine used by some famous writer, pilgrimage to places where our hero was drinking, living and writing, or this little game we played in the office. I almost can't describe how joyous this game was and all fellow journalists took part in it with same deep, serious thinking.

Well, my inner vampire got the first prize!
So, my favorite authors- watch yourself.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

LIŠENA SVAKOG ŽARA


Žena mojih godina

Draga, uslovna sloboda

Amazon je moj putokaz.

Iznad vremena velike tuge.


Zatežem bore u vlažnoj

delti. Oživljena vatrom,

kućnim poslovima.

Bez ruže u zubima.

Na tri ćoška.


Ostavljam mrvice

za sobom.Ne starim

kao katedrala .


Vezana za manastir

kao pčela.Ni stara

ni mlada: gledam

žive boje.


Vas, šamani.

Sav taj bes.


Teža od srednjeg

veka. Dodajem nulu.

Gluva kučka.


(Iz knjige „Poludragi“, Gradac, 2010.

Kulturni dodatak „Politike“ 15.01.2011.)

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Living backwords

Recreating story Misery, written 10 years ago. Inspired with real events and people, still feels fresh and memories brought back to my mind again feel brighter then when it was really happening.
This quality of writing- possibility to keep hints and fragments of ourselves the way we were once is amazing. So your writing platform, your intellectual, sensual and spiritual self is capable to freeze deep your personal self,and you can come back to your memories and play with vex figure, who has your face as much as you need.
This quality of writing is why we need written testimonies - no meter are they fiction or some other kind of expression.
The writing is the only shelter to hide from very hurtful truth saying you can never go back home.
So now I speak with those ghosts of mine, remembering the archeology of building story but also re-living those emotions and encountering real people, obviously tattooed in my life deeply. How nice I can live and walk again through this little street of my life. Hear again those words and sounds, seeing all those faces in the same material and emotional position as they were arranged decade ago.
Better then the movie, better then life. This possibilty also neutralize so often used phrase how life doesn't have redo. Oh,it does!
Isn't it very strong part of writers playfulness and instinct/ to go back and sniff around footprints of distant memories.
Of, course it doesn't have to do with intimate memories but also writing can bring ball back to you/us , in case we are talking about recreating some big, historic, mutual experiences.
Seems I am now entering anthropology of writing, but it has to do with mystical part of my inner voice.
I see now how every blog post starts innocently and in the end not so naive and innocent.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

Partying with Voltaire

So the beginning of the new year sounds like classic La vie en rose, to tell the truth, every time I get a bit drunk and dizzy, I sing this song, laud or silent.
The year 2010 has been one of the most exciting and surprising ones, so I am anxious to see and hear from 2011:) Dear, could there be more of THIS? Wow,I will keep ready and steady 363 days to realize that.
On writing - Hm,I did published second book of poetry, after so long and I will try to be quicker considering poetry/ cause the way I read, I hear,I infuse words in my mind is of poetic sort/ I realized this morning while reading Voltaire's Dictionary. In my mind this Cristal cut cynicism and, lets say rationalism/ sounds like bunch oh verses, poems in prose. And I've picked up few things for good, besides this elegant, smart, cool attitude of his. No one can be so arrogant as French thinkers and Voltaire is one of the kind.BUT he is good, extremely modern. He would devastate modern world of media and communication/ we would never be able to put it back together, if by any chance he could be reborn.And he would be great TV presenter.
Yes, dear old world I am absolutely positive it is time for the classics/ I am into Voltaire, and very good writer friend is for long time obsessed with Montaigne/ this one is much on vogue in the global perspective.I hope he will provide essay on Montaigne soon and I am sure he will devastate but also repair current Serbian landscape of madness, sadness and lost track.
French rationalism was my huge building block, as teenager I enjoyed on and on this beautiful way of thinking in old family library of my gran-gran pap's. Loved them all and felt at home reading timbre but sobering words of those guys, seems I was a bit serious girl.(OK,I had a crash on Marc Bolan, so i was not completely lost) Now, as fully adult it is time to party again with all of theme Montaigne, Voltaire,La Roschefoucauld which perhaps has to do with my journalistic side. In fact writer and journalist do connect in this kind of writing.
Seems I am starting to write blog for real.
New thing, thank you 2011!
PS I am overjoyed when machines and spellcheckers go mad with this French names, oui!

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