Author Archives: freeeky

fact 'o day

>dejstvo dneva: cyberdog trgovina rulz!

>(tale pride s krajso zgodbo.)

nekje proti koncu lanskega leta (se slisi ful dalec nazaj, a?) mi je ena podarila zapestnico. sicer s pretvezo, da njej je ta zapestnica prevelka in da naj jo pac dam jst gor, in bomo vidli, ce mi pase al ne. mmmhm. ampak dobro, zapestnica je res bla lepa, in kljub temu, da je bila za vsaj 2cm in pol sirsa od tistih meni se vzdrznih dveh milimetrov, se mi je celo dopadlo jo imet na roki. to jest, ni me motila.

breakthru!


kot se vidi s slike pa je na tej zapestnici bila mesalka. in ce je v mojem zivljenju ena oseba, katero bi takoj brez pomisleka asociirala na mesalko, je to #ona. in ker se je blizala noc, ko se bo koncno spet le postavila za mesalko in spustila “megafantasticensuperfenomenalnohinsplohbomba” set, sem ji zapestnico posodla. ni bilo dolgo, ko smo ugotovili, da je ta zapestnica bolj zanjo kot zame, tako da sem se s tezkim srcem poslovila od tega darila… in si narocila drugo.

yay!

in prejsni dan mi je postar, vkljucno z izgleda obveznim lupckom za “dober zacetek leta”, le izrocil paket direkcijone iz londona. sprint v drugo nadstropje, dokaj precizno rezanje plasticne vrecke in zapestnica je bila v moji lasti! mwaahahahahaha!

na zalost pa je bila pot do me dokaj trda, ker je bil ‘ornament’ prelomljen na pol. takole.


nekje med navdusenostjo, da sem koncno le dobila zapestnico, in razocaranjem nad poskodbo ornamenta, sem ze razmisljala, kako bi zadevo lahko popravila. sms cimru naj posodi sekundno lepilo, in kratko sporocilo folku pri cyberdog, da ce bi se zadeva dala kako zamenjat. da nocem nazaj denarja, gre se mi za zapestnico.

ravno, ko ugotovim, da se je lepilo posusilo, in zacnem ze malo panicarit, dobim odgovor na mejl:


moj odgovor?
“DUDE!!!!!! thank youuuu!!!!” … in ene maljarda smajlijev.

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scribble scrabble

>new year's wishful thinking.

>presenetis me med vrati sobe. jaz odhajam, ti si prisla.
naslonim se na steno, opazujem otrocjad med igro pikada, cakam nate.
zivcna sem.
koncno se le vrnes iz sobe. teh par trenutkov se je zdelo kot vecnost.
primem te za roko. zmedena si, vidim ti na obrazu.
“mudi se mi. ne zdaj.”

skoraj povlecem te v tvojo sobo, zaprem vrata.
stojis sredi sobe, pri koncu postelje.
gledas me s tistim “zakaj delas to?” izrazom.
stopim blizje k tebi. “babe..”
ne dovolis, da dokoncam stavek, umaknes se k vratom.
z roko na kljuki glasno izdihnes in sklonis glavo.

moje plitko dihanje cutis na tilniku.
z ustnicami se narahlo dotaknem tvoje koze. treses se.
spustis kljuko in se pocasi obrnes, z glavo nikoli vec kot par centimetrov od moje.
poslusam najino dihanje, ko zacutim tvojo dlan na obrazu.
situacija je prevec zame.
ce bi vedela, kako je cutit nevihto v trebuhu, potem bi to bilo to.
zaprem oci, ne prenesem vec pogleda tvojih modrih oci.

“oprosti.” recem impulzivno.

konica tvojega jezika na mojem mi se vedno pospesi utrip.
tvoje mehke ustnice veliko predobro pasejo mojim.
svet okoli naju izgine, se posebej njegov srebrn avto na dovozu.
znana blizina tvojega telesa ob mojem, prepletanje prstov…

“baby, kul je.” reces, ko zapres vrata za sabo in me pustis samo.

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nekaj za duso

>leto 2010 skozi moje dogodke.

>v biljardni smo prisli do manjsega razodetja, katerega nam ze vsaj dva meseca poskusajo v glavo vtepsti cisto popolnoma vsi. od starsev, sodelavcev, postarjev in smetarjev, do najboljsega soseda in prodajalca oblekc za nase stirinozne prijatelje..

..cez manj kot en teden bo konec leta 2010!
kak v 3pm?!

in ko smo ob srkanju espressa in kokte vedno znova skapirali to dejstvo (konec leta je!!), smo dali skoz tudi nase #win in #fail dogodke. seznami so sicer bili kratki, a to samo zaradi nasih luknjastih spominov. bili so popolnoma nakljucni, v nobenem posebnem zaporedju, se najmanj kronoloskem. kategoriji se prepletata, zakaj bi se omejevali.

teh par je tistih najbolj pomembnih, vse ostale vam povem ob kavi:
podrla par zidov in blizje spustila pest novih ljudi. brez vas ni mojega dneva, to vam je jasno.
spoznala osebo, ki mi trenutno pomeni tako zelo veliko, da mi je cudno. njegove trepalnice me vedno znova fascinirajo, njegovo razmisljanje se veckrat.
v nekem dolocenem paru oceh vidla emocije, katere od nje nisem pricakovala. na zalost so naslednje jutro izginile in jih se ni nazaj. cakam.
dnevi preziveti v navdusenju in vznemirjenju pred koncertom meni skoraj najljubse pevke. razocaranje, ko s klikom miske kupim karto na drugo stran evrope na tocno ta datum.
prezivela fenomenalno vezo z osebo, katero sem imela zelo rada. na nek svoj nacin jo imam se vedno. se vedno malo prevec. pasala mi je. bit z njo mi je pasalo. ko je bilo konec poletja, je sla tudi ona. pogresam njene besede, a zelim ji sreco. (btw, vse najboljse.)

in da ne pozabim, po manjsi drami in popraskani roki le dobila moje cudo od inteligence, macka mukija. hvala bogu, da ima devet zivljenj. porabil je ze vsaj stiri.

verjamem, da sem veliko pozabla napisat, omenit. za vse tiste dogodke in vsem tistim ljudem, najlepsa hvala. mogoce zvenim osladna, ampak na tak ali drugacen nacin ste prinesli nekaj v moje zivljenje. pa ce je bilo to dobro ali slabo, nek pecat je bil.

hvala.
pa srecno v 2011!

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>"tell me you like me and i might let you stay."

>i counted the exhales of warm air as the light
from the atm exposed your lips
something startles you, you look at me and pause
“you have that ‘i want to kiss you’ look. stop it.”

but i didnt.

evening went, night was settling in, memories
flushed back in your words. i said ‘lets go out
for a smoke’, you hesitated but followed me
with a smile nonetheless.

i only endured 2min of talk before the kiss.

soft fingers tracing my lips, the feel of your
hand gloves on my cheek, forgetting everything
that wasnt you, your hands holding my face
and your dark brown eyes piercing right thru me.

you linger.

pressing your forehead at my lips, like you
needed it to breathe. you turn and leave me
there, with the city lights you so love, and
i held your taste in my mouth

for days.

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everyday yapyap

>twitter je sicer bizarn, a veliko manj perverzen kot google. razocarana.

>prejsni dan mi je kolega povedal, da me je sanjal. sicer ni bilo prvic, ampak ponavadi se gre dokaj hitro “straight to business”… if y’know what i mean, hehe.
tokrat pa si je sanje popestril s se eno kolegico in ker sem se jaz prevec ukvarjala z njo (d0h), je hotel opozorit nase. presenetljivo, da je prisel samo do te ideje, da mi – polize nogo.

ja, vem. the fcuk?!

seveda me je zanimalo, kaj bi to lahko pomenilo, in ker ima stric google indexiranih maljardo strani o sanjah, sem se spravila na lov za razlago. na zalost veliko dlje kot “foot fetish sexy lesbians” nisem prisla. se je pa zato “moja” twitter skupnost ze parkrat izkazala za veliko bolj odzivno kot google, da se o bizarnosti njihove domisljije niti ne menimo, tako da sem probala sreco se z njimi.

rezultati so tocno taksni, kakrsne sem pricakovala. ce je to dobro ali slabo, pa se odlocite sami.

(screenshoti linkajo na statuse. ce kdo zeli, da odstranim screen, naj se javi.)

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nekaj za duso

>"today you.. tomorrow me"

>prejsni dan, na kofeju s kolegom, vidim starejso zensko, ki nese dva malo vecja paketa. do parkirisca je imela se nekih sedem stopnic, malo je rosilo, sneg tudi ni bil za ignorirat. opazim, da hodi bolj cudno. desno nogo je imela poskodovano. dva paketa, torbica, stopnice, poskodovana noga.
katapultira me iz stola, vzamem paketa in jo, ob njenem veckratnem ponavljanju “stokrat vam bohloni!”, pospremim do njenega avta z znakom za invalide.

.
.

Just about every time I see someone I stop. I kind of got out of the habit in the last couple of years, moved to a big city and all that, my girlfriend wasn’t too stoked on the practice. Then some shit happened to me that changed me and I am back to offering rides habitually. If you would indulge me, it is long story and has almost nothing to do with hitch hiking other than happening on a road.

This past year I have had 3 instances of car trouble. A blow out on a freeway, a bunch of blown fuses and an out of gas situation. All of them were while driving other people’s cars which, for some reason, makes it worse on an emotional level. It makes it worse on a practical level as well, what with the fact that I carry things like a jack and extra fuses in my car, and know enough not to park, facing downhill, on a steep incline with less than a gallon of fuel.

Anyway, each of these times this shit happened I was DISGUSTED with how people would not bother to help me. I spent hours on the side of the freeway waiting, watching roadside assistance vehicles blow past me, for AAA to show. The 4 gas stations I asked for a gas can at told me that they couldn’t loan them out “for my safety” but I could buy a really shitty 1-gallon one with no cap for $15. It was enough, each time, to make you say shit like “this country is going to hell in a handbasket.”

But you know who came to my rescue all three times? Immigrants. Mexican immigrants. None of them spoke a lick of the language. But one of those dudes had a profound affect on me.

He was the guy that stopped to help me with a blow out with his whole family of 6 in tow. I was on the side of the road for close to 4 hours. Big jeep, blown rear tire, had a spare but no jack. I had signs in the windows of the car, big signs that said NEED A JACK and offered money. No dice. Right as I am about to give up and just hitch out there a van pulls over and dude bounds out. He sizes the situation up and calls for his youngest daughter who speaks english. He conveys through her that he has a jack but it is too small for the Jeep so we will need to brace it. He produces a saw from the van and cuts a log out of a downed tree on the side of the road. We rolled it over, put his jack on top, and bam, in business. I start taking the wheel off and, if you can believe it, I broke his tire iron. It was one of those collapsible ones and I wasn’t careful and I snapped the head I needed clean off. Fuck.

No worries, he runs to the van, gives it to his wife and she is gone in a flash, down the road to buy a tire iron. She is back in 15 minutes, we finish the job with a little sweat and cussing (stupid log was starting to give), and I am a very happy man. We are both filthy and sweaty. The wife produces a large water jug for us to wash our hands in. I tried to put a 20 in the man’s hand but he wouldn’t take it so I instead gave it to his wife as quietly as I could. I thanked them up one side and down the other. I asked the little girl where they lived, thinking maybe I could send them a gift for being so awesome. She says they live in Mexico. They are here so mommy and daddy can pick peaches for the next few weeks. After that they are going to pick cherries then go back home. She asks if I have had lunch and when I told her no she gave me a tamale from their cooler, the best fucking tamale I have ever had.

So, to clarify, a family that is undoubtedly poorer than you, me, and just about everyone else on that stretch of road, working on a seasonal basis where time is money, took an hour or two out of their day to help some strange dude on the side of the road when people in tow trucks were just passing me by. Wow…

But we aren’t done yet. I thank them again and walk back to my car and open the foil on the tamale cause I am starving at this point and what do I find inside? My fucking $20 bill! I whirl around and run up to the van and the guy rolls his window down. He sees the $20 in my hand and just shaking his head no like he won’t take it. All I can think to say is “Por Favor, Por Favor, Por Favor” with my hands out. Dude just smiles, shakes his head and, with what looked like great concentration, tried his hardest to speak to me in English:

“Today you…. tomorrow me.”

Rolled up his window, drove away, his daughter waving to me in the rear view. I sat in my car eating the best fucking tamale of all time and I just cried. Like a little girl. It has been a rough year and nothing has broke my way. This was so out of left field I just couldn’t deal.

In the 5 months since I have changed a couple of tires, given a few rides to gas stations and, once, went 50 miles out of my way to get a girl to an airport. I won’t accept money. Every time I tell them the same thing when we are through:

“Today you…. tomorrow me.”
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nekaj za duso

>"tell me a story."

>spraznat glavo mi najveckrat ni problem.
nastimam marizo ali sarah, dam na max in me ni. takrat se svet zacne malo bolj pocasi vrtet, in malo bolj mi postane vseeno za dogodke okoli mene. v tistem trenutku je edina motorika dvig salce k ustnicam za se en pozirek kave, pocasi zaprem oci in spustim glavo na rob mize.
preprosto me ni.

isti ucinek imajo njeni smsi.
njena glava je tako polna nekih cudnih asociacij, domisljija ji dela 100 na uro in danes je v njeni zgodbi nastopala panda agatha iz dubrovnika, z otecenimi gleznji in ambicijo postati go-go plesalka, ki je v bistvu rada pekla cokoladne piskote, se prijavla na super goli idoli, kjer je ostale tekmovalke niso prevec marale, zato jo je sova (ali je bila koza?) spotaknala, tako da se je panda iz same depresije nafilala s tabletami, in ker jo je v spanju nosila luna je preplavala vse mozne reke, spoznavala geografska cudesa portugalske, in na koncu se je zbudila v nekem gozdu, kjer je spoznala levinjo francesco, ki je bila tako navdusena nad agathinimi nogami, da je postala njena agentka in panda je “kaj kmalu plesala na najprestiznejsih stangah, ob vecerih pa se grela v mehkem objemu francesce”.

tolko bizane (oz. POPOLNOMA VERJETNE!) kot so njene zgodbe, pa se mi bolj kot za vsebino smsov gre za njene besede. mogoce bi ji morala povedat, da mi lahko naslednjic preprosto iz stare stevilke revije nova prepise horoskop ali vse horizontalne namige pri krizanki. popolnoma mi je namrec vseeno o cem pise. odkar jo poznam imajo njene besede name pomirjevalni efekt. (mislim, da je to tisti tanajtabulj pomemben razlog, da nekoga popolnoma in do konca sprejmem v moje zivljenje. vem, slisi se cudno, a bit z nekom na dveh kvadratnih metrih in si NE it na zivce, to je zelo pomembno. in v tem #ona zmaga.) ko v glavi ne spravim skupaj niti tistih par besed za najbolj osnovne stavke in ko mi je se tisina preglasna, takrat mi to njeno pretiravanje pase bolj kot samarac budali. z vsakim piskom telefona mi je blizje in z vsakim smsom je moj nasmeh se vecji.

zvecer ji posljem sms za lahko noc in z zaprtimi ocmi docakam njen “gudnajt :)”. takrat vem, da je nek del nje se vedno samo moj.

hej
ja, ti
coj
eem
.
.

gnajt, ju

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