Rachel, love story

———————

a novel by Nastich

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Paradox

”Whenever I was feeling down, I was told I looked good.

Now I am falling apart, they tell me I look great.”

 

Rock Hudson

I met Rachel at a place called Kinoteka,

Right after the screening of Written on the Wind.

She was sitting next to me.

On the silver screen, a drama was playing out

Starring Rock Hudson, Robert Stack, Lauren Becall and Dorothy Malone.

Rachel has the same eyes as Rachel Weisz,

The actress from my favorite movie The Shape of Things.

Not the shape, but the clear, bright shine in contrast to her black hair.

After the show, on the stairs of Kinoteka, I asked her,

“How did you like the movie?”

“It was great … I love Lauren Becall…”

“As I do Rock Hudson …”

“We’ve watched their movies together,

Without knowing it….”

“It seems like …”

“Wanna get a drink?”

I surprised myself with the question asked. My heartbeat froze at 55.

“Yes, I got time till 10”

We went to Shansa.

A place I used to like, but it had gotten too fancy.

Metal chairs … the advance of civilization …

Shit.

“Can I call you Rachel?”

“Yes, but tell me why.”

I explained her why but she hadn’t seen the movie.

Rachel teaches in school. Rachel is a lean, feminine lady.

Rachel is “la Belgradienne”. In every sense of the word.

That was my impression, and my intuition confirmed the same.

My intuition never fucks with me.

I walked her to the corner of Roosevelt and March 27th Street.

Suddenly I teared up.

The next street, years spent in a pool joint named Braca’s.

Manda, Marko Pavlovic, Marko Aleksendric and I.

Twelve years ago.

Two hours at Braca’s,… then Tash, and off to the park….

The place is closed, I think.

I heard Braca died.

I saw him only once in my life.

He had looked like a drunkard sailor, with a bell shaped nose.

I have Aleksendric’s number,

I don’t know what’s up with Pavlovic,

Manda is around, but we hardly ever talk. 

Rachel took me to the corner.

I do not believe in coincidences.

“Would you like to see Belmondo tomorrow?”

The Man from Rio? She asked in agreement.

 I nodded.

“Five thirty, in front of Kinoteka?”

“Deal …” I said.

I walked to Dorcol.

I was gonna send a text to Alesandric …

Gave up. I will text him tomorrow …

the strange feeling of insanity

Today, after Belmondo, we looked at the Kinoteka schedule.

Whatever was left to be seen…

I fell in love.  I wasn’t tripping. I’m 31-years-old,

Not just a kid who’s falling for any chick.

“With whom did I fall in love?”

I don’t know yet.

 

now I wanna be your dog

She wanted to do a psycho test on me, based on my affinity to actors.

My favorite –  Her favorite:

Eric Roberts – John Malkovich

Tom Beringer – Anthony Hopkins

Mickey Rourke – Jerremy Irons

William Dafoe – “But, why did you pick those savages?”

“Why savages, where’s that from?”

“Roughnecks, is that how you want to present yourself? A tough guy??”

“That’ll be your own conclusion”

“… And musicians, who’s physically fascinating to you?”

“Henry Rollins”                                         

“Why am I not surprised? You have some serious issues. What did your shrink tell you?”

 “That is who I am, and not to hide from myself.”

“You got advice alright, worth every single Dollar …”

 “While she was finishing the med school, you were battling with Psychology, keep your inferiority complex in check.”

“I think you’re a fag!”

 “Maybe, but you’ll never find out”.

She went to the kitchen to get wine. I turned my head to scan the crowd.

Another deadbeat party. Same gang, same stories.

Only Rachel was new.

New to me, and…

“So … you’re not gay?”

 “Unimportant. You’re the one who wanted to do tests on me, anyway.”

“You have a girlfriend?”

 “No. Do you want to be my girl?

 “You’ll never find out!”

“Give me your phone number.”

She took my phone and keyed it in,

Iggy Pop was wailing in the background:

“Now I wanna be your Dog …”

 

stoned brothers

A week later, I got depressively anxious.

That feeling of unhappiness, and with every minute

You’re getting more depressed because nothing makes any sense.

And it doesn’t’ make sense, I am falling for Rachel, I may love her, but she’s not responding.

Rachel, what pills to take? I know … I don’t need any help.

Double dose of Prozac and a fistful of sedatives.

I stared at my cell phone the whole day.

Waiting for Rachel’s text.

Yesterday, though … yesterday I wasn’t thinking of Rachel.

Not as much as today.

I went with my brother and his girlfriend to a wedding.

Some moron was getting married, my brother’s buddy,

Got a girl pregnant.

Fuck him; he should’ve used a condom.

  1. My brother’s girlfriend:

Tight top, tight jeans, push-up bra,

Pumped up ass, boots – heel size: high as two of my dick.

“Your girlfriend looks like a slut”

“Don’t you insult her.” my brother replied.

“Your girlfriend looks like three sluts”

“What the fuck is up with you –  Shut up!”

My brother said.

“She looks like thirty three sluts”,

I said.

“Shut up, pill popper, everyone knows you’re a latent homo,

Who can’t deal with it, so you’re picking on all of us.”

His girlfriend shouted.

“Your girlfriend looks like a slut who does psych tests in junk magazines”

I told him.

We got in the car. I was sitting in the back.

My brother was dressed up like a local criminal,

Slim fit T-shirt, leather massager bag, white shoes –

That’s in nowadays.

Me – 501 Levi’s, DM’s and shirt.

I had put on an abnormal amount of cologne.

Popped few pills, I am careless;

My Brother was loaded with 6 Tramadols, and a grain of dope.

The slutty girlfriend was waiting for the wedding party. Drank only wine.

I gave him a CD, house music mostly to take us on a ride.

“Why are you dressed like a slut?” I asked my brother’s slutty-girlfriend.

She was gazing through the window. I bent over her shoulder.

“Why are you dressed like a slut?”

“Suck a dick, faggot” she screamed,

”I’ll set you up, they’ll beat the shit outta you.”

I pressed my head against the windowpane.

“Bro, is your slut a good fuck?”

He ignored me.

I would too if I were loaded with all that crap.

The slutty girlfriend gasped, and then giggled …

Her buddies will mess me up, I’m fucked.

I don’t give a fuck.

Bitch.

We arrived at the wedding shortly. Soup, cabbage rolls, roast meat on the table.

I sat next to my brother’s slutty girlfriend’s sister.

She was nothing special.

Me, slutty girlfriend’s sister, my brother, a slutty girlfriend.

“Hey, why is your sister dressed like a slut?”

 I asked the sister.

“Suck a dick”

 Said the sister in between the bites.

Mhm … the same vocabulary. Well, they are sisters; after all… blood is thicker than water.

“How about a quickie, ha?”

She said nothing. Kept on chewing.

“C’mon, how about a piece of that pussy?”

Nothing. She’s gotta be hungry …

I waited for her to clean the plate; I didn’t feel like doing a monologue.

Last bite of pork chops. She washed it down with some wine.

Suddenly, I heard my brother yelling,

“What’s up fags, suck my dick.”

Three “fags” jumped the table.

I wanted to help, he’s my brother,

But I was too stoned.

One of the fags kicked him in the guts; the other one busted his head.

My brother fell on the floor. The slutty girlfriend was pouring cold Coke on his head.

She was crying.

It all looked funny to me.

Fuck it. He did it to himself.

I woke up at 5 this morning. Watched Roger Federer’s match, and then U-21 soccer finals.

Still raining and it’s almost midnight.

I’m looking at my cell phone like a fool.

No “Good night” from Rachel.

 

in the meantime…

We got together today.

Little walks, movies, sitting on the bench in the park.

Soul opening, melting right before her eyes.

Pathetic? No such a thing.

The truth is “pathetic” only to cowards.

I can’t keep quiet any longer.

 

I understand. Everything.

I told her today.

She told me today.

I want a relationship. I am in love. I was never in a relationship.

She doesn’t want that. She wants freedom. She was in a five-year relationship …

I understand. Everything.

deal

 

We’ll be friends.

I’m in love, but I’ll survive.

Can’t have it all in life…

Rachel came over today. While I was painting the clay.

She asked if I still remember what movie we met at.

“Of course…”

“What do you think, what did Laureen and Rock talk about during the breaks on the set?”

“He was probably boozing …”

“He was not. I’ll write what happened, but don’t stop your painting…”

Sun was shining on every piece of pottery. Sun fascinates me. And flowers. Flowers bring me joy.

I would put flowers through my entire apartment,

If I only had the money.

If I only had a job.

But, I am unemployed thirty-one-year-old, unhappy in love.

A Man. A Dude. A Kid. Don’t know anymore.

She handed me the paper.

 

WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED BETWEEN ROCK HUDSON AND LAUREN BECALL … LAST BREAK ON THE SET …

 

Sitting across of eachother.

A mirror between them.

He in the armchair.

She on the chair.

Unhappy man and

A pretty woman.

Set break.

Lauren Becall is fixing her makeup. Rock Hudson

Sitting,

His head hanging.

Irritated.

“Listen …”

“Yes”, says Lauren,

Still looking in the mirror.

She‘s putting powder. Rock is drinking whiskey.

Bottoms up. Fills it again.

“You know how much

I love you…”

Laureen puts her powder away,

Turning to Rock.

Silent.

Rock glances at her,

His eyes watery.

“Every movie has its end.

This one had the beginning,

Plot and end.

We came to the end.

I came to the end.

I acted the best I could.

Can’t do it No more.  My brain will explode.

I’ll go crazy.

I’m already crazy.

Only this …” (he rises his whiskey glass),” … keeps me from killing myself.”

“I was expecting, longing for a different part.

But I didn’t have a choice!

The moment has come to take the mask off and leave the business…”

He took a few sips.

Lauren knew what he meant.

A tear down her cheek. She got up, and hugged him.

“You are that unhappy?”

He was silent; she felt his tears soaking her shirt.

 “C’mon, we’re on.”

Rock got up, washed his face, plastered a smile across his face and walked out of the room.

He went to do what he knew best.

To act.”

 

“Unhappy man”, I said.

“Yes … I know how much you love him.”

I looked at her … Rachel …

And I sighed.

 

 

 

“Buddha sees a Buddha, pig sees a pig”

 

I came home,

Did a little workout

While SKA music

Was playing in the background

On and on and on,

Then I took off the gauze from my shoulder

And played “The Misfits”,

Grabbed a bottle of water.

Well…

I got a tattoo of my mother

On my left shoulder.

She doesn’t know it yet,

I told her I’ll get a tattoo of my favorite soccer team flag.

I asked her

For the photo,

On which she looks happy.

She gave me three.

I asked her to choose one.

She did.

 

“What do you need it for?” she asked.

 

“It’s for the book.”

My friend, a girl, did the tattoo,

She also did my first two tattoos.

By chance, four different women saw the tattoo first, all with different mindsets,

Single thing in common.

The comment.

I need psychiatric help.

I am Oedipus.

Someday, I will be nagging my wife for not cooking like my mother.

I have a major sexual identity problem.

Interesting.

How come no one thought of RESPECT?

Respect for the person who had everything, but an easy life,

Three kids in poverty,

Getting up at 5AM each morning for 30 years just to put the food on the table.

Not to mention all the love she gave to our father and us

And got back more shit, than joy in her life.

How come no one thought of RESPECT?

How come no one thought of RESPECT?

How come no one thought of RESPECT?

How come no one thought of RESPECT?

How come no one thought of RESPECT?

 


A friend of mine said – funny, but all my buddies were impressed – “What’s the deal? There’s the old saying – “Buddha sees a Buddha, a pig sees a pig.”

 

Yeah … of course. I stopped wondering.

 

But again … Rachel got it.

Do I love her? Yes.

 

 

 

… and Rachel Weisz..

 

“If you had a mad amount of money, how

Would you spend it?” Rachel asked me last night.

“I would kick all the white men out of Africa and

Buy the Africans food and medicine for the next 10

Centuries and I would buy all the animals from all the zoos

In the world and return them to nature, then I would …”

“I wasn’t thinking about good deeds, but for yourself?

What would you do for yourself? Only for you.”

Strange girl. Terrific. She turned my life upside-down.

While I am lettering this, she is discussing

Yesterday’s show of “Event of the week” with my mom.

“OK. Just for me. I would buy a yacht. Huge one.

I won’t drag you into this story, OK?”

She nodded. She approved.

“So, a huge yacht. Loaded with all the super luxury shit.

The biggest and the priciest.  I would take

Ten of my best buddies, if I had that many.

Just the loyal ones and those I think would be trustworthy

If the shit hits the fan. Food and drink for a year.

And two hundred hotties. Show -girls, sluts, models,

All the gold-diggers. So we can fuck,

Whenever we feel like it. Dope – half a shipload.

Cocaine, all kind of tripping’ mushrooms,

The best painkillers, tranquillizers.

Of course, I would bring along a doctor,

Who has the best-equipped hospital on the planet.

He’d help if someone OD’ed. And virtual

Gaming helmets, when we get bored with the bitches,

We could get our game on, blasted out of our minds.

And the Sun. A whole year of Sun!

So – every day must be sunny.

Can I buy the Sun?”

 

“You are one unhappy boy.” Rachel said,

She shut her eyes, kissed me on the mouth and

Gave me a big hug.

 

 

 

 

 

the gift

 

Yesterday around 10 pm.

Rachel came behind my back, kissed me in the neck and said,

“Happy birthday!”

I turned back; she kissed me on the mouth,

She was holding a framed print in her hand.

Print of a scene from the movie North by Northwest.

Delighted.

We talked about that movie on our first date.

I was talking.

She remembered my most brilliant scene.

I am delighted.

And confused, too.

“Rachel, it is not my birthday today.”

“I know, but I wasn’t with you on February 15th.”

She hugged me.

I didn’t say anything.

I cried.

 

 

 

the call

 

I went to the video store before the game last night.

An old habit.

And love.

I love VHS. My cell rang.

Number unknown, I answered.

“Yes.”

“Is that …”

“Yes, it’s me. And you are …?”

“Your ex girlfriend’s ex boyfriend.”

“You got something to tell me?”

“Only that we still talk every now and then, that’s all”

“OK, now I know. Anything else?”

“Did she tell you we’re in contact?”

“No. Anything else?”

“No. Only that.”

You could tell when someone has a smile plastered on their face.

He sounded like that. He was smiling.

Amused.

“Thank you, you’re a good girl”, I said to him.

He laughed.

“Enjoy”, he said laughing, and hung up.     

I picked up the movie and went home.



 

Rachel, do you have anything to tell me?

 

All day buzzing in my head: Rolling Stone’s song “Time is on my side”….

The star of a movie I rented was hounded by it…

I’m watching the soccer game, and waiting for Rachel to arrive …

 

 

… but the girl

 

She was so wonderful.

Brought me the MP3 of Everything but the girl.

Didn’t say anything.

I asked nothing.

She left so I could watch the game, alone,

Australia – Croatia.

But she didn’t give me the chance to tell her: “I don’t wanna see the game.”

She just got up and standing by the door said: “Enjoy the game, kiss.”

I wanted her to stay.

 

 

after

 

She came back after the game, brought a bag full of strawberries, kissed me and said: “I love you”, then left.

I didn’t tell her that I peed blood this morning.

 

 

fuck your strawberries

 

I have been terribly anxious since this morning …

I slept five hours max,

And the heat made working out impossible …

I drank fluids by the gallons, trying to pee that blood out of me …

Anxious. A phone call woke me up.

Helena. My ex girlfriend.

We’re still on good terms, more than good.

We arranged to get together.

Rachel knows I hang out with Helena.

I hit the shower, took a handful of sedatives.

My cell rang.

Unknown, yet familiar number.

“Hi Radovan.”

“Hi.”

“How are you?”

“Anxious.”

“Why Radovan?”

“You got any questions?”

“Why are you anxious?”

I hung up.

 My girlfriend’s ex boyfriend.

Thanks for the strawberries, they were delicious.

 

 

hand-eye coordination

 

Rachel is out

With her friends.

I don’t want to meet them yet, I am too nervous.

It is damn humid, but I have to go to work out.

Boxing is perfect for hand-eye coordination.

That’s where my fascination with boxing came from.

My brain is a mess.

I am jealous.

And I knew Rachel would burn me out. It’s my fault.

I still pee blood.

It gets me extra pissed.

I used to have a way out of my anxiety.

I would scratch my arm or leg.

One single spot. Until the blood came out.

It would start bleeding some more.

Nothing crazy, only few drops …
Anxiety acts inversely proportional to the amount of pain.

When the pain is at its peak I feel great, relaxed, and calm.

Then I wash my face in the freezing water, get some alcohol, and pour it over the wound.

It hurts, it burns, and it unloads me even more.

Then I stopped the habit.

When I feel like I should decompress,

I put on gloves, weights around the arms, and punch the boxing bag …
I hate Rachel.

Actually, I hate myself for letting her make me fall in love with her.

I found some songs that still make me rip inside.

Artist: St. Etienne
Song: Only Love Can Break Your Heart

When you were young and on your own
how did it feel to be alone?
I was always thinking
games that I was playing
trying to make the best of my time.

But only love can break your heart
try to be sure right from the start.
Yes, only love can break your heart
but if your world should fall apart…


Artist: Everything But The Girl
Song: Missing

I step off the train
I’m walking down your street again
And past your door, but you don’t live there anymore
It’s years since you’ve been there
Now you’ve disappeared somewhere, like outer space
You’ve found some better place….



Artist: Everything But The Girl
Song: Love Is Strange

Love, love is strange
Many people take it for a game
Once you’ve had it you’re in an awful fix
‘Cause after you’ve had it you never wanna quit
A lot of people, they don’t understand
They think lovin’ is money in their hand
Your sweet lovin’ is better than a kiss
When you leave me those kisses I will miss
Love, oh woh, love is strange…

 

 

for better or for worse

 

Few years ago I met a guy and a girl.

My generation.

1975.

He got off the dope.

She didn’t leave him, when he told her.

They went together through all his diarrheas, vomiting, and madness.

He cleaned himself up.

They got married.

Instead of wedding bands, they had the same tattoo on their ring fingers.

Life.

 

And all of you are pussies.

 

And I am, as well.

 

 

 

fuck it

 

I am impotent.

Six months already.

Doctors said –the stress.

Doctors said – the sedatives.

I take too much.

They said.

I’ll see what Rachel will say.

Tomorrow she’s staying over.

Actually, today.

I don’t know why I haven’t told her yet. I am not ashamed, I only feel like a cripple.

I’ll see what she’ll say …

 

Fuck it.

 

 

tonight, if you want to find out, come alone, after midnight … tonight, when the dolls take …a stroll, you’ll find out, you’ll find out the truth … how I feel…

 

Wine.

Salad.

Fruit.

For Rachel.

 

Juice

Sedatives.

Salad.

For Radovan.

Two movies.

Bullet and Das Experiment.

For us.

 

 

the end of a trip

 

She kissed me right away.

Hugged me fiercely.

Brought some ice-cream.

“Want some?”

“No, thanks. I’ll have it later.”

“What are we watching?”

Bullet, crazy ass movie, with drugged Mickey Rourke.

“I can’t stand him.”

“You want something else?”

“No. It’s OK, I may like it.”

She crossed her legs,

Ate ice-cream with the huge spoon.

She was beautiful.

I sat next to her.

Gave her a long kiss on a cheek.

I took a sedative and antidepressant.

“Do you have to take that?”

“I have to, when it is this humid, always.”

“But three of them?”

“Yes, that’s my fix.”

She gasped with the disgust.

“You take junk. Thirty milligrams???”

“It’s a prescription; I don’t take it for fun. Yes, thirty milligrams.”

“Those psychiatrists are fools.”

“Mine is awesome”

“What’s wrong with you all of a sudden, why are you like this?!”

“Like what?!”

“Pissed off”

“I am not, I just don’t like that you take pills and go to the psychiatrist.”

“I go once in six months, and drugs are doing me good.”

“They are not doing you any good if you are still taking them.”

“Why are you so pissed?”

“I am not, and stop with that idiotic question!”

She raised her voice.

I played the movie.

“You fake out the depression, to be the center of attention.”

“It’s in my family’s history… grandmother, mom, and my sister, me …”

“Don’t lie! It’s just an excuse to get stoned.”

I didn’t respond.

The movie started.

Mickey Rourke gets out of jail.

His brother and his best friend wait for him.

“I can’t describe to you the feeling when the guard gets into your cell and says:

Start packing, you are going home.”

I told her with a grin.

Rachel looked at me.

“What are you talking about?”

I got up and printed out the article from the web…
14.11.2002. Eight Soccer fans of F.K. RAD from Belgrade were apprehended and arraigned a day before yesterday in Bjelopoljski county jail, where the county judge from Pljevlja indicted and sentenced them to 30 days of imprisonment.  The reason for incarceration as the judge explained was an assault of the police officers. Sentenced are R.N. (27), B. D. (19), V. N. (22), M. B. (22), S. R. (25), brothers M. (23) i D. M. (30) i R. R. (19), all from Belgrade. The ninth supporter of F.K. RAD, N.P. is under medical treatment for serious arm fracture, at the hospital in Pljevlja, where he is awaiting surgery …

 “So??”

“R.N.”

“That’s you???”
”Yes.”

“Houligan??”

“No. A fan. And that was long ago. We were abused.”

 “You are idiots. I would keep you in there”

”What do you know…. You think I enjoyed cops busting my kidneys and scull, for no reason??”

“Right, its somebody else’s fault!”

“What’s up with you tonight???”

I grabbed her by the hand.
She broke loose.

“Don’t touch me. I‘ve already told you I don’t want a relationship. You are seriously ill.”

She got up, took her purse.

Got to the door…

I didn’t budge.

She slowly closed the door.

Almost soundless.

 

 

just don’t break my heart

 

Good Morning.

I went to bed at 10 am,

Got up an hour ago.

Had sweet dreams with the usual lurid episodes.

But everything is great! J

Freedom.

Goodbye Rachel.

And thank you. Followed by the bitter smile and shatter in my chest and guts.

 

 

brother.

 

A friend called me, a moment ago, and I told him what happened with Rachel.

“Bitch, bro, I told you.”

“You still have that number her ex called you from?”

“Of course, Why?”

“So, I could find him and beat the crap out of him.

You can come along too,

We’ll arrange it.”

J J

“No need.”

“OK, as you like … Although

He should have his pussy busted”

“He should, I know.

Fuck’em.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m watching the I.D.”

“Uh, mad movie.”

“I like the Football Factory better
“I can hear the announcer, are you watching the game?”

“Aha. Boring”

 

 

abre Los Ojos

 

Nightmares have been killing me for years now.

Morning is a bitch.

Dawn.

The last three – four months got worse.

I wake to a dog howling in pain.

I don’t know if someone hits him, or the bigger dog scares it.

But I can’t stand it.

I get up quickly and look through the window.

I can’t see anything.

And so it goes, morning in and morning out.

I don’t know anymore if it’s real or if I am dreaming.

But my heart is pounding like crazy.

I take a beta blocker and a sedative.

Still, I can’t fall asleep.

Dreams … always something bad.

Blood. Death. Loved ones, and I move too slow to help them.

Few days ago, for the first time something happened,

I took it as a sign for me that I am done.

When I am tortured in my dreams, it lasts, and lasts, and lasts,

And just when I cannot take it anymore, my conscience

Sends me a signal and I can wake up.

I wake up happy and fucked at the same time.

Happy because it was only a dream,

Fucked because I feel so shitty.

A few days ago, I was in agony …

When I realized it was only a bad dream,

I opened my eyes and then realized

The nightmare didn’t end.

There was no way out.

Then I woke up for real.

Totally at peace.
This is your life, and it’s ending one minute at a time…

To fall asleep is the hardest thing. Much worse

Than waking up.

Before you doze away you know what awaits.

Torture.

 

Open your eyes.

 

my friend, long ago, when the Earth was still a flat slab …

 

He would go crazy

If he wasn’t taking them.

But it’s the pills

That he died of.

Before his death, he just wanted

To see

The coast.

 

Memories of good people.  A tear rolls down…

 

 

 

boring Harrison Ford, boring Tom Hanks and a busted ass

 

Interesting day, yesterday.

Hot as hell

I watched two movies.

A shit with Harrison Ford –

It’s hard it is to break the movie pattern:

A role model dad,

A pretty, young wife,

A picture postcard life,

Kids’ photos on every desktop in the house …

And, of course, evil people kidnapping them,

Harrison is all miserable and torn until the last fifteen minutes of movie,

When he decides to finally get mad and get them all.

I watched it fast-forwarding some parts.

The second one I was watching while playing chess.

Da Vinci Code

Fucking boring, to me at least.

Most because I don’t care for the subject.

Coulda, woulda, shoulda

And I am still out of work.

I play chess, listening to Audrey Tautou

And boring Tom Hanks, my cell rings.

Familiar unknown number.

“Hello”

“How’s it goin’, are you lonely?”

Oh, old buddy – ex boyfriend of

A woman of our lives.

“Enjoy yourself, don’t worry about me.”

“I’m in the front of your building.

Come on down for a talk.”

“I’m coming.”

What a drag, just what I need right now is

Him whining about Rachel.

But fine. Let’s beat the shit of him one last time.

At least my building is in the shade.

A guy, in front of the building, was leaning against the car.

“Hi, buddy.”

He extended his hand.

I extended mine.

Looks… tall, handsome and dark.

Bicep tattoo, but of course, peeking from under the tight shirt,

Puke No. 1

I notice the rosary around his wrist,

Puke No. 2

The weather is still filthy, shade doesn’t help.

And then I got beaten

Just as I spotted the rosary, he punched and knocked me with the same fist

– Prize fight hit-

He beat the shit out of me.

I didn’t even try to hit back,

He got me with the first one.

He almost knocked some of my teeth out…

He kept punching me in my face, my mouth and nose, four or five times.

It didn’t take long, a few seconds maybe.

He got back into his car and left.

So what? Nothing.

An extra shower yesterday

And some extra ice for the lip.

I have a strong nose.

And an excuse to take a headache pill.

Pills.

I am going to sleep now, and when I wake up …

We’ll think of something J
Good Morning Rachel… I know you are thinking of me.

 

 

happy colors

 

msg from Rachel.
zero zero: fourteen minutes, am…


Sleeping?

No.

How are you?

OK, I guess.

I heard there was a fight with Marko?

A small one.

And I told him to calm down. I’m sorry, he went too far.

Are you together again?

No. We are not.

It’s good for you to hang out with him; he seems like a good fella.

You’re being cynical?

No… never.

I’m going to sleep, talk to you soon,

As soon as I organize my schedule, I’ll give you a call.

OK.

 

  1. I turned off the phone.

Got out of bed, took 1/4 of a beta blocker and the strongest sedative.

I was terrified. I thought I was gonna get a heart attack. A stroke.

Breathless. I washed my face with some freezing water, and kept poring it on my chest.

Irritated. Mad. Pissed…

I’m lucky the blocker works …

  1. I’m a fool. I’m calm now.

What is all this about, anyway … what …

My stomach is killing me … I care about her.

I cared.

I’m burnt out.

Now, I don’t care.

It is a good thing I am like that …
whoever screws me over,

I don’t forgive …

And I have no desire to see that person ever again.
Rachel, good bye.

I deleted her number… I have a bad memory of numbers…

 

But his …

 

After writing this, I’ll go

Paint some pottery.

Haven’t done it in a while.

And I have only cheerful colors.



terrace

 

A bad evening.

Peed blood again. Not a lot.

Lips don’t hurt.

But I’ll have a scar.

It’s hot,

I sleep

On the balcony.

Tying

My wrist

With a duct tape,

To keep me from jumping when

The night terrors hit.


I told my psyhiatrist that I have suicidal thoughts.

What I fear the most are heights.

I get dizzy when I look down from just a foot high.

And then, in the moments when nothing makes sense …

Its draws me in.

I have a beautiful terrace.

Spacious.

 

 

the parts I skipped out … Rachel

 

 

 

MEMENTO 1

 

Rachel opened the fridge. Naked.
”And what did you expect. He just got out of jail. “

She looked at me derisively. And smiled. 
”So what, bitch, I don’t give a shit for his jail.

Like, he is going to beat me up? J J ”

“He’ll destroy you…”

“Like I give a shit.”

 

I went to his place. Rang the bell.

He opened the door. Punch.

It was painful.

Then a few more, right in the head.

 

“Didn’t I tell you?”

“Blow me.”

“Feel like a pussy, ha? Your pride hurt?

He beat you good …”

“Blow me….”

“Pussy J J”

 

Bitch has a nice laugh…

Summer dress.

 

“I’m a pussy, all right, get lost now.”

 

I held the door for her,

My head bursting with pain.

She left. Fine perfume left behind.

I took 5 pain killers and 4 of my strongest sedatives.

I hate the taste of blood in my mouth.


 

…in preparation for an urban politically correct dinner, while Adolf Dado Topić sang on repeat

 

 

MEMENTO 2

”you’re such a bum, what kind of music are you playing …”

I said nothing to the urban politically correct bitch,

Who was tossing the salad, because we were about

To be visited by her friends who I

Despise. Actually, I’m bullshitting.

Only one of them really annoyed me

His whining and rolling eyes.

Anyway, they didn’t like me, ’cause I was a conservative.

Whatever that word means.

”And don’t provoke Johnny.”

“I won’t.”

“Don’t”

“I said I won’t, I won’t even talk to him.”

“Well, the two of you have nothing in common anyways,

He has travelled half a planet over.”

“And half the planet fucked him over.”

“Moron. You are a latent homo.”

“You think so?”

“I am positive.”

“Tell Johnny to do an enema, so I don’t stick my dick in his shit.”

“You are disgusting. You are a

Latent cock sucker.”

How many insults can a man take from a woman

Under a PMS excuse?

However, the morning load of sedatives

And a quarter of beta-blocker did their part.

“No wonder you tattooed your mommy on your shoulder.”

Adolf stopped singing.

“Rachel …”

Baseball bat broke all the CDs.

About three hundred of them.

Neatly placed in a stylish wooden CD shelf.

Dear to her, a present from the xyz friend.

Baseball bat returned to its corner.

Adolf kept on singing “Elizabeth”,

And the second quarter of beta-blocker

Slid down my throat.

 

love

 

 

MEMENTO 3

I watched him

In disgust.

I never liked that

Type of man.

The type that wears an army coat,

But not a flight jacket, politically correct, clean

Shaven, etc. etc. etc.

School-army-college-wedding:

Soup-cabbage rolls-roast-a tie.

Brandy-kids-hot mistress-rosary.

Modern.

“Modern.”

Whatever that meant.

She glanced at my belly,

And looked away.

My Dear Rachel…

Rachel, my Dear.

She is disgusted by me.

I gained weight

Since we got together.

The one I was degusted by

And she who is disgusted by me,

Had a great time.

I was standing next to

Them,

To make matters

Even worse.

They were laughing.

They like Woody Allen.

I like him too.

But my Dear Rachel never

Asked me.

She never asked me anything.

Not why is my desk covered with medication,

Nor why I have the headaches,

Nor how was jail,

Nor why I am addicted

To painkillers …

I asked her everything.

Everything.

Even though I knew

I wouldn’t like half of her answers.

Why she doesn’t like Spike Lee,

(Who’s on my “hero list”)?

Why she likes the ones

I do not.

Almodovar and Wenders.

Lynch, of course.

Why she dislikes Poe?

And I don’t.

And why she cheated on me

With this “unmale”,

She’s smiling at, right now?

I felt like Lino Ventura

Right before the knock out.

Marvelous feeling.

She said: “at that moment …”

I accepted.

He knew that I know.

I know that

He knew

That I know.

We were a happy trio.

I drank my beer

And went to the restroom to throw up.

I got my shirt off.

I enjoyed puking.

In the gags between the pukes,

My right hand was scratching

The left buttock. The sore was slowly coming out.

I was done.

With throwing up and with the sore.

It burned.

Fuck it.

Two painkillers in my fist,

Under the sink,

Cold water.

Gulp…

I sat on the bowl.

Feeling mighty.

Two months of weight lifting,

Fasting and a pile

Of painkiller pills.

I put my hand on my balls and dick.

I closed my eyes just sitting like that.

I stood up,

Locked myself in,

And returned to the earlier pose.

I was sleepy.

I felt the weight of my chest muscles.

It was good.

I lay on the floor.

It’s beautiful.

My Dear Rachel …

 

pigs, postmodernism, gay happy songs and hooligan terraces

 

SURPLUS REPORT 1

I’m out of town. With Rachel.

Paper and pen. When I get back, I’ll type it.

Countryside.

A forest and a river 5 minutes away.

Rachel brought along some books and

That thing, not a Walkman,

But plays MP3’s.

I always forget its name.

A pile of books.

Albahari, Basara and Harms.

I hate postmodernism.

I burned a CD with some of my favorite “gay happy songs”.

To tickle me while I’m resting my brain.

Wham – the best of, Elton Johndon’t go breaking my heart,
sugarbabes – push the button, Take That – the best of.

Rachel hates my “gay happy songs”.

And just in case, while working out –
Agnostic Front,
Operation Ivy and
Dance Hall Crashers.

As for my reading, detective novels exclusively.
At my surprise,

In half of those cop flicks,

The cop is actually a good guy.

I don’t want to read a narrative

In which the main character is a pig.

If I cared about the life of pigs,

I would buy a book on pigs.

In the rest of the novels,

The main characters

Are drunkards and womanizers.

Like Mike Hummer.

And that’s kind of OK.

Rachel follows the World Cup, I don’t.

I’ll watch the finals.

Arenas displease me. It is all sterile.

And those waves

Made by the fans for fun.

Extremely moronic.

Fuck the game without torches, flags and

The singing gangs.

We slept in the same bed.

 

erection, blood and breakfast

 

SURPLUS REPORT 2

I love when a woman scratches my back.

Very.

To leave the mark.

To burn. It’s a sign

A drop of blood will come out.

To bury her nails

Into the sore skin.

At that moment my head is about to burst,

But the sensation is phenomenal.

I gulp down a couple of painkillers and we carry on.

When I sense the limits of unpleasant pain,

I stretch my back, and hold onto the bed rail

To do a couple of push-ups.

I wouldn’t even remember this

If my impotence phase wasn’t gone.

In my talks with a psychiatrist

I didn’t elaborate on any possible causes for the impotence.

I didn’t want to know.

The erection reappeared.

Caused by nothing.

In the morning.

Rachel got up before me.

On the table I noticed two plates

Filled with salad and cheese.

Rachel was waiting for me,

To have a breakfast together.

I don’t love her anymore.

 

 

 

 

Orwell’s human farm

 

SURPLUS REPORT 3

It’s surprising how well we get along

Every day, we walk the bank of Sava

And to the part of the forest…

We like watching the animals.

Pigs – So pretty, don’t give a shit about anything,

It’s an insult to compare them to cops.

Ducks – Actually, male and female. Love blossoms.
We tell them apart by the fact that

He is heavier

And has a green feather necklace.

She always goes in the front of him,

And he waddles few steps behind her.

Sheep – As Rachel and I go by them,

They stare. As if we know each other for 1000 years.

They have that dull indifferent gaze. But curious.

They are not stupid.

 Men are stupid.

Puppies – Beautiful. All tiny pups,

A mix of local lovers and available ladies…

Cows – A Cow. We saw just a single one.

Wagging her tail, warding off flies.

The heat didn’t seem to bother her.

She glanced at us utterly disinterested.

Snail – I’ve moved it off the road,

It is way too slow. It looks like a

Depressed suicidal in armor.
Frog – We saw it in the dark,

By the house.

Little, tiny.

Like a spring coil, a spring coil with eyes.

Dusk.

When we got home,

Rachel made us some ice-cream.

 

strange day. nice.

 

SURPLUS REPORT 4

A neighbor’s kid

– house next door –

Village punk smartass,

About 7-8 years old.

Persuades me to play ball with him.

I managed to break  

Both of my big toes.

How stupid a man has to be?

To deliberately break the right toe nail,

Right after breaking the left one …

And who else would play soccer in sandals …
Rachel was sitting in the wicker chair,

Laughing. Kid laughed too. I gave him

Money for ice cream.

She went to fetch bandages, alcohol and cotton swabs.

I was sitting and she was wiping my blood.

She packed them up neatly.

Kissed my feet.

I was, surprised.

Yes, but unable to react.

She didn’t look at me. I didn’t move.

Later, we watched Federer and Nadal

In Wimbledon’s finals.

Rachel is a Federer fan,

So am I.

But Nadal is a badass.

Wild, natural.

That’s why most men don’t like him,

Because they know he could fuck their girlfriends, wives.

That’s why I’m getting to like him,

Because I am sick of the male gendered pussies.
Federer won, that’s good.

Right after the match I figured out

How big of a headache I had. My subconscious is

Going to kill me one day. I get headaches

Whenever I care a lot about something.

Then Rachel took my hand,

Led me to the bed

And we kissed.

I was imagining her as some other woman.

Real. Already existing.

Fuck it.

We made love.

 

to hell with your stability!!!

 

SURPLUS REPORT 5

We were sitting in the yard,

Rachel on her second coffee, me on my fifth painkiller.

The day began badly. An agonizing night.

As I opened my eyes,

I ate a little chocolate and

Gobbled up a few pills.

We were silently listening to the music.
Since we listen to different stuff,

We divided the day into 3 hours

Of alternative ownership over audio space.

Because of the night terrors that will be the end of me someday

She let me start with my selection.
Miso Kovac. Smash Mouth.
Sugar Ray. Frank Sinatra / Dean Martin.

She was sunbathing.

I didn’t feel quite well.

Because of love making.

Didn’t need all that.

Especially, because of my SMS correspondence

With my own unresolved emotions from 4 years ago.

I call her Barbara. After the character, played by

Anica Dobra, in the movie: How the R.N.R. Went Bust

I used to quote the lines from the movie….

“Barbara, you can’t leave me like this –

 I mean, who is going to wash the dishes …”

Or my favorite quote, ever –

“Baby, if you think I am going to run after you,

You’re delusional …

Let’s forget that fella, Darko; he’s small fry anyway,

Well, they don’t call me Long George for nothing …”

I met Barbara four years ago.

We went out once …

Then I went to a soccer match.

And the delightful Dukljans kept us on vacation for a few weeks…

When I returned, Barbara said she lost my number, and so …

We ran into each other a month ago.

Coincidence.

She has a boyfriend; they’ve been together for two years …

Stability. She said.

To hell with stability.

Well, she was the one I was thinking of last night,

When I made love to Rachel.

Rachel, who doesn’t ask who I’m texting all day,

Beautiful Rachel.

She does not ask me a thing.

It’s more stable that way.

 

the ghosts of the past

 

UNNEEDED REPORT 6

Every evening, Rachel and I watch Will & Grace.

We would prefer to call the show Jack & Karen instead.

Jack is our favorite. Whatever he says, it makes us laugh.

Retorts from Karen

About pills and alcohol, 

Make Rachel look at me tenderly.

Earlier on Rachel watched the soccer finals France – Italy,

While I was riding the bike in the village.

She was telling me how it all went.

I don’t like Zane too much, but he

Should have beat flat,

That sleek bitch Materazzi.
It’s all one freak show.

She artfully described the game,

Everything I missed…

Rachel fell asleep in an armchair.

I moved her over to the bed.

I took a few sedatives …

…. She wasn’t asleep – she was crying.

She hugged me. And I hugged her.

Then she got up suddenly,

Took a paper and pen,

And wrote something down,

She gave it to me and came back into my arms.

It said:

“Do you believe that the soul can hurt?”

 

epilogue… possibly…

Eleven years pass, the curtain is coming down …

It couldn’t have been any other way …

The night terrors were getting worse,

Depression was unbearable …

Without the pills it was imposible to hold on …

Doctor gave me few months to live,

My liver couldn’t be fixed …

Rachel … Rachel is happily married, has two boys, ten and six …

Stability. I knew she was not going to leave everything and run away with me,

Far, far away from stability….

She has a good husband, they tell me she is happy …

I am happy for her … The last woman I loved.

I will leave her my books, all the CDs I burned for her …

the pottery, yeah … and the Sun …

I am afraid of death.

The daybreak is looming.

Good night.