Revizija.

Kot se spodobi za (pred)zadnji dan, premlevam tistih 355 dni, ki so za mano.

Če odštejem vse mini napade panike zaradi prihodnosti in tistih nekaj razočaranj ter prištejem krasne trenutke z vsemi mojimi krasnimi osebami na vseh krasnih krajih, lahko pod črto rečem, da je bilo dvapetnajst kar precej fino.

Česar pa ni bilo, pa še bo - računam nate, dvašestnajst. Zmešajva en koktelj sreče in ljubezni in zadovoljstva in uspehov in zdravja in lepih trenutkov, da se ga pošteno nalijemo z vsemi najinimi. Te bom pričakala z zmerno mero šampanjca, v rdečih gatah in z nasmehom na obrazu. Da si narediva parti vseh teh 366 dni. :)

Koraki.

Odkar ne hodim več s tabo, hodim hitreje.
Osredotočam se na vsak vdih in izdih, ker bi sicer izgubila tempo in fokus. Vdih (leva noga) izdih (desna noga).
Odkar ne hodim več s tabo, hodim v neznano.
Pot in cilj več nista važna, pomembno je le, da se ne ustavim, da ohranim tempo in fokus. Vdih (leva noga) izdih (desna noga).
Odkar ne hodim več s tabo, hodim sama.
Nihče, ki ga srečam na poti, ne more spremeniti moje smeri, da ne bi upočasnil mojega tempa in zmedel mojega fokusa.
Vdih (leva noga) izdih (desna noga)
Odkar ne hodiš več ob meni, štejem korake in število vdihizdihov.
Vdih (leva noga) izdih (desna noga).
Le tako lahko prezrem top prazen občutek v trebuhu, ki me opozarja, da so kraji in ljudje, ki jih več ne bom mogla obiskati, ne glede na to, kako dolgo bom hodila.

Endvatri.

In bo konec leta. Endvatri, res.

Do takrat še dober mesec in pol vse hladnejših dni in juter, ki jih včasih prespim le zato, da mi ne bi bilo treba razmišljati. O vsemu in vseh. Pa tudi mesec in pol kuhanega vina in vikendov na vseh koncih. Mesec in pol novih stvari in norih koncertov. Mirnih večerov in malomalo sreče.

Da zaključim leto, kot se spodobi.

I think about you almost each morning, and roughly every five days.

(Jon Sands)

"A Working List of Things I Will Never Tell You"

When I said I wasn’t with another girl
the January after we fell in love for the 3rd time,
it’s because it wasn’t actual sex.

In the February that began our radio silence,
it was actual sex. I hate the tight shirts
that go below your waistline.

Not only do they make you look too young,
but then your torso is a giraffe’s neck attached to tiny legs.
I screamed at myself in the subway

for writing poems about you still.
I made a scene. I think about you almost
each morning, and roughly every five days, I still

believe you’re there.
I still masturbate to you.
When we got really bad,

I would put another coat of mop water on the floor of the bar
to make sure you were asleep when I got to my side of the bed.
You are the only person to whom I’ve lied, knowing

I was telling the truth. I miss the way your neck
wraps around my face like a cave we are both lost in.
I remember when you said being with me

is like being alone with company.
My friend Sarah wrote a poem about pink ponies.
I’m scared you’re my pink pony.

Hers is dead. It is really sad. You’re not dead.
You live in Ohio, or Washington, or Wherever.
You are a shadow my body leaves on other girls.

I have a growing queue of things I know
will make you laugh and I don’t know where to put them.
I mourn like you’re dead. If you had asked me to stay,

I would not have said no.
It would never mean yes.

Bo.

Spet ponavljam svojo staro mantro in upam, da ohranim kanček sebe v vseh teh stvareh, ki so se zgrnile name. In da bo čas za malo krasnih jesenskih dni, za malo brezskrbnih juter, za malomalo iskric.

Vsebovreduvsebovreduvsebovredusebovreduvsebovreduvsebovreduvsebovreduvsebovredu.
vse. 

Ozimnica.

Ves teden sem zbirala poletje in ga skupaj s poezijo in filmi pod zvezdami in koncerti in večernimi sprehodi in malo ljubezni spravila v nek kotiček sebe, kjer me bo grelo v hladnih jesenskih dneh, ki prihajajo.

Upam pa, da bo tudi jesen vsaj pol toliko krasna, kot je bilo to poletje.

Habits.

Sem si rekla: dovolj imam
 in v tem čisto nič poletnem, deževnem dnevu spakirala, da jutri navsezgodaj ujamem bus in čez osem ur sonce in morje. Da preplešem noči, ki bi bile sicer predolge in polne težkih sanj, in spijem kak gin tonic preveč. Da pozabim vse, kar me teži, in končno najdem lahkotno, brezskrbno poletje, ki ga tako težko čakam že od junija.

Ker če noče priti k meni, pač grem jaz k njemu.

Vse je v redu z mojo dušo.*

"Vse bo v redu" je te dni moja mantra.
 In ko to napišem, se pokaže sonce. Prisežem. :)

Pridi, brezskrbno poletje, te čakam z razprtimi rokami..

*Patetetico - Vse je v redu z mojo dušo

Na pragu poletja.

Za mano je eden težjih tednov v zadnjih letih. In ena najtežjih odločitev. Sem naredila prav - upam vsaj, da se bo tudi tokrat skladalo to, česar si želim, s tistim, kar se pač mora zgoditi. Res upam.

Do takrat pa naj bo malo poletje. Brezskrbno, bosih nog. Z lasmi, plapolajočimi v vetru, in metuljčki v trebuhu. Teh že (pre)dolgo ni bilo. Malo, vsaj malo..

That`s how it is in April..

Spring in me.

Danes sem se ustavila in pogledala nazaj na zadnjih nekaj mesecev. Je bilo nekaj težkih dni, priznam, ampak, ko potegnem črto, ugotovim, da se nimam zaradi česar pritoževati.

It`s all good at the end of the day, they say. And it obviously really is.

Čas, da ustvarim nove spomine. Čas za te krasne, pomladne dni. Čas, da zacvetim(o).

But maybe I`ll be okay, Ma`..

Look what they've done to my song, Ma`..
Look what they've done to my song.
Well, it's the only thing I could do half right
And it's turning out all wrong, Ma`.
Look what they've done to my song..
Look what they've done to my brain, Ma`.
Yeah, they picked it like a chicken bone
And they think I'm half insane, Ma`.
Look what they've done to my brain..
Wish I could find a book to live in..
Wish I could find a good book,
`cause if I could find a real good book
I'd never have to come out and look at
Look what they've done to my song.
And if people are buying tears
We'll be rich someday, Ma`..
Look what they've done to my brain.
But maybe I'll be alright, Ma`.
Yeah maybe I'll be okay,
`cause if the people are buying tears
then we'll be rich someday, Ma`,
Look what they've done to my soul, Ma`!
Look what they've done to my soul..
Yeah, they tied it in a plastic bag
and they shook me upside down, Ma`..
Look what they've done to my song..

 

Utrujena sem. Tako hudičevo utrujena od vsega.

Od vseh. 

..Look what they`ve done 

to my soul, Ma`..

24.

"Twenty four is so clearly the hot button age right now. Got some change in your pockets and some stamps in your passport. And, according to Girls, you’re probably having a lot of weird sex and wearing unflattering clothing."

On turning 24.

Če bo res tako, se ne bom pritoževala. Sploh. :)

cincuenta y tres.

Todo sobre mi madre me vsakič znova uniči, četudi ujamem le zadnjih 20 minut. Ay, Almodóvar..

"Las mujeres hacemos cualquier cosa con tal de no estar solas."