The interference came through an artist I had heard before, but never heard of her. In what seem to be an unimportant part of the song “Not fair” by Lily Alen, the original fundamental doubt of what are defined to be premarital romantic relationships is raised. In a monologue, Alen expresses the doubts of a woman who is generally satisfied with her man, except sexually that is. And after describing brutally, yet sweetly, how he can never make her scream and how all he does is take, due to, although not explicitly stated, but yet obviously described premature ejaculation, the unnecessary doubt is raised. The song goes something along the lines of “maybe I’m just overreacting, maybe you’re the one for me”.

What it made me wonder is how much do we lose in life, in terms of time, nerves, efforts and energy, by raising such stupid and totally unnecessary doubts. Albeit leading a life based on ‘no regrets’ principles, it still took me quite some time thinking of very, very similar doubts. But why should we? Why should we question our selfishness of wanting to have pleasure? Especially sexual one?! Let me just get back to Lily Allen, who in this song says that “there’s just one thing that’s getting in the way, when we go up to bed you’re just not good it’s such a shame”. Now imagine what a desperate state this is…

Here’s a very nice version of this song, performed live…

What stroke me most though, was a typical patternised view in one of the most random city landscapes. My ex-ex-ex-girlfriend was completing her checklist. She was just doing something she always wanted to do: take a walk, through city’s cafes, while holding hands with a man. It wouldn’t matter who indeed this man would be, as long as he would be good enough for her parents and willing to marry soon. (Now you also know why we broke up, a long, long time ago.) She didn’t want guys who were pursuing a career, nor guys that would be adventurous. She wanted something in between, smaller, simpler, straight-forward. She wanted a (future) husband. And there she was, walking around, showing her (future) husband to the people of the city, like somebody shows off a pet or a new bike.

Good. I actually felt good. She got what she wanted. And no, this is not one of the typical stories about ex-girlfriends. I don’t have feelings for her, nor do I want her back. I was indeed happy that she was happy. Yet, I stopped and took my time to analyse her achievement for a second.

Having a checklist completed is not a big deal. But I haven’t told the whole story yet. The man whose hands she was holding happened to be nobody else but her ex-ex-boyfriend. Or, if you count me, that would be her ex-ex-ex-boyfriend. The one who was the director of the enterprise she worked for and who, among other things, harassed her. The one she hated most. The one who was the Satan’s face to her. The one she had a great talent to find bad words about. Well, that’s life, I guess. No wonder that we’re being called Melrose Place, based on that shitty TV show of the nineties… We end up screwing the same people, while being around the same people, over and over again.

Silly. Ain't?!

***

On the day of collectiveness – individuals smile

He leaned his head to reach it

She smiled

His head was leaning, and neck aching

While his stomach was being invaded by butterflies

The two of them

Among all these people

Injured the collectiveness

And they both smiled

***

Nostalgia for a Cheap Hotel

The morning sunshine blasted,

When he opened the curtains

Of that fancy hotel room

So doom!

He ran out while still brushing his teeth

She was not waiting for him

Other people were. Waiting.

But not only for him

They were waiting for the ultimate solution of all the problems of that day

***

Imagine Films

He thought of death and remained calm

Took no drugs but he was still high

Just like in every other hotel building

He skipped the 13^th floor

He opened the door, he slammed the door

She was there. Or perhaps it was just a hologram

In the world of a movie story and Hollywood,

The thin line between the truth and imagination,

Vanishes slowly, but permanently

***

Inspiration

The muse is just a stupid invention

As there is no such thing as the muse

Inspiration needs no inspiring

And inspiring brings no inspiration

***

Bipolar

His mood was changing

Like the weather in London

Fast. Radically. Drastically

His mood was a prone of interference

Unlike the weather in London

***

Fever

He was cold and warm and cold again

And then hot. Very hot

Fever doesn’t have to do with the temperature

Fever comes from the inside

Appears outside

Fever has everything to do with IT.

***

The Writer

This is a story about a writer

Who cannot read his handwriting

Nor stand the noise of his typewriter

There are two kind of writers

Those who think what they’re going to write

And those who write what they think

I belong to none of them

I’m unique

Or just uniquely fucked up

I’m not a writer

I’m just an idiot who abuses the early invention – the letters

***

Frustration

The wind blows the ashes

Of a lit cigarette

Making the poison spread up in the air

At least for a second

Frustration

Emotional, professional, sexual…

Whatever it is

Cannot just blow with the wind

Frustration prevails

Like the black aquarelle colour does

When you mix it with white

Frustration is a real emotion

The only real emotion

(And the white colour – is no colour at all)

***

Faster

He lived too fast

Too fast too be caught

Too fast to enjoy

Too fast to be enjoyed

He lived faster than he could even realise it

That by living faster

He wasn’t really living

But dying

All – faster

***

Clouds

To him

She was just a small cloud

Half empty – or half full

Full of rain that would never fall

Small, very small cloud

That would follow him on every move he’d make

A cloud that would not let him see the sun

She was so small, like his private cloud

That he could not escape from

He would see the sun shinning on other people around him

The sun would shine on everybody but him

He wished for the sun, he wished for a miracle

But he got really used to her – the cloud

That he didn’t want her to just burst into rain

And get him wet

And disappear

What he really wanted – is her to become his sun

Private one

Something that she never will be able to become

And never will

Thus, he will remain cold, shivering, forever

Whatever forever means

***

The Momentum

Is it now or was it earlier

When the hell will then it be?

The real, powerful, convenient, momentum

To talk, to fuck

To go out for a walk or swim

Ain’t life just too short

To wait for the real momentum

To do the right things?

Or perhaps, this is just a cliché

Used, overused, abused

By bad, really bad writers,

Like me

***

The Q

My existence is a consequence of an awkward semi-pleasure

My joy is surreal

My pain is a side effect of my living

My living is a collateral damage of the universe

Who the fuck am I?

***

Offering Demands

he had too much to ask for

and just a little to offer

although he was willing to offer everything

he felt wasted, exhausted, drained

he knew that it would never rain

but still ran out for an umbrella

he swallowed his own spit

and licked his own sweat

and was so desperate to lick hers

if she would just allow him to make a change

unlike politicians he needed more than one chance

When I was introduced to the VanguardFactory I had to step back from some of my ruling principles. For example, it’s not that the VanguardFactory left a great first impression. And I keep insisting that you never get a second chance to make the first impression. That’s true. However, sometimes, the second impression is much more important than the very first one. And this is what really hit me. VanguardFactory’s second impression. And the third, the fourth, and so on… Countlessly going through her clear thoughts and sharp analysis whilst remaining attached to the complicated topics. Wonderful.

One may wonder, why am I bothering to clarify this. Well, the thing is, there are a few things that have happened since then, and not all of them are good, while all of them are connected to each other. Some are connected in a very unexplainable way. For example, ever since Gonzodiac appeared, the VanguardFactory disappeared. Not a single blog post since then. Is it a pure coincidence? Could be.

Yet, this is the time of the return. Gonzodiac returns to its pragmatic approach with delicate style, while VanguardFactory has already returned to its geographical state of inspiration. A bloom of thoughts is expected, but the correspondence that we call life has shown that it can be unpredictable. Let’s see what happens.

0. Introduction

There were no conversations about weather. No pretending, no contempt, no acting. A simple walk never made more sense. Such a binding force between two hands was never witnessed before. The frequencies matched in a wide but different range. There was nothing special about that event, as everything was simply special.

1. The Woman

The world was wan for quite some time already. She could have been just another pale face in the paleness of grey. But she wasn’t. She showed up quickly enough to make it noticeable but yet slow enough to avoid the shock. Although, her presence itself did shock the environment! She came as a vivid surprise of the wan world. She was bright and happy, but not extraordinary at first sight. She was formally fancy, not outstanding, but yet gorgeous. She was colourful!

(Word Count: [19]83)

2. The Man

He was wrong to think he was tired of being wrong. Indeed, the wrongness itself had caused him a lot of confusion already. Now he was not so confused anymore. He was turned into confusion. He represented confusion for her. But that’s just the dark side of his character. The bright one was the greyness that was being heavily interfered by her colourfulness. He enjoyed it, although he knew it would shake his comfortable position of numbness. He became the magnifying tool.

(Word Count: [19]82)

3. The Past

There was something that happened in the past. Some of it was remembered. Most of it was forgotten. None if it was important.

4. The Present

When there is nothing but fragility in the world, then fragility itself represents strength too. It represents the present and the past to the future. The good thing about living in a fragile environment is the stress of not having it broken into pieces. And stress can be a good driving force. The idea is to ignore the stress and enjoy the stress-free present of fragility. Nothing depends on the two of them, yet everything depends on the two of them alone. It’s like a house of cards, with two cards only.

5. The Future

Tom Cruise will not be able to film his “Mission Impossible 4”. So the future, for the time being, remains unveiled. The future is not about safeness, stability, comfort… It’s about challenges, new horizons, new patterns… The critical thinking of the future is not about asking the question why, it’s rather about asking the question why not. And the more we think critically, the better future we have. The future will be there. The woman will be there, the man will be there, the world will be there, thus for, the future is certain and unavoidable.

Hard to choose! And I am not sure I could answer. None of that and all of that at the same time, perhaps. My weirdness has nothing to do with my own self as such. If you look at me, the way I live, things that I do and stuff I like or hate, from my perspective, or any individual prism around me, there’s nothing wrong or weird about it. Yet, if you look at me from a wider social perspective – I’m a weirdo – no doubts!

The thing is, I cannot really fit into any of the social patterns based on which the society in this part of the world functions for so many years, decades, or even centuries now. It’s unique. Or should I say, uniquely bizarre.

There’s a single pattern, which evolves in different forms but still remains the same, which everybody, at some point in their lives, has to join and obey. It’s simple. First you meet a girl or a guy, and then you hang around for couple of months or years with them. Next thing you want to do is you want to get engaged, and then married. Pregnancy is a must and usually happens 2 months before or after the marriage. But before that, you have to find yourself a good job, which in the Balkans means a position where you can afford working as less as possible and get a decent monthly wage. It has nothing to do with career, position, or the labour itself, as such. Nine-to-five job with weekends off and being able to take your family for two weeks annual leave in some beach would be just great. Mortgage with a high interest rate follows, and with that, a new apartment somewhere in the new fancy recently-built buildings, or, in best (read: richest) case scenario, a house in some of the trendy and hyper-expensive residential areas around the town. This is what “everybody” is doing, and why shouldn’t I? It would, if nothing else, help me limit my hobbies to walking around with my own kids and thinking of what a boring day I had at work, or, in worst cases, how to pay the next mortgage instalment.

Well, this is it folks. This is the social patter valid in most of the countries in South-East Europe and especially the newest one – Kosovo. If you think you didn’t join it yet, just wait until it happens. Of course, it comes in many variations, depending on gender, wealth and geographic locations. If you don’t see yourself living based on this pattern, you soon will. If you won’t, then you’re a weirdo, just like myself.

An ex-friend, who is at the same time an ex-girlfriend, made me watch a weird film some months ago – Pi by Darren Aronofsky. It’s a good one, although I wasn’t crazy about it. Yet, in short words, it’s a story about a weird scientist who seeks a key number that would unlock the universal patterns found in nature. Pi – the 3.14 magic number is given as an example. This film made me think about social patterns more than about natural ones. If one can challenge natural patterns, such as decimal numbers for example, and enjoy let’s say the hexadecimal system (or binary ones, like some friends of mine who do programming for living) why wouldn’t I challenge the social patterns.

Because I’m done with middle 20ies and in some years will be 30 years old? Because when I am 30 it will be quite late, or the last moment, to get myself enrolled in the pattern I have explained above?

Huh! The only good thing one can learn in a collage course called Critical Thinking is to ask the question WHY! And I am asking it now. Why should I? Why should I, let’s say, when I meet a hot chick and I’m 30 years old, think of sharing my house with her instead of wishing to get into her panties? Why shouldn’t she think the same, instead of wonder how my credit card balance is? (Let’s just not get into that) Why should I vote for a certain political party? Why should I have coffee at a place where everybody else is?  Why? Why? Why?

Well, the fact that I am asking too much, is enough to qualify me as a weirdo. So be it!

P.S. I don’t edit my blogs. Mind my spelling mistakes. I don’t care!