O
the round
little man we
loved so isn't
no!wa gay of a
brave and
a true of a
who have
r
olle
d i
nt
o
n
o
w(he)re
Setting jednostavan:
Nešto što liči na binu i redovi nepreglednih, bledih lica. Uredno su ispeglani.
- Ja...
(kroz masu se prolama aplauz, koji traje)
Ja ne može da dodje do reči, ali se i dalje trudi.
(aplauz još uvek traje)
Ja, u pokušaju da ih nadjača, malko otpljunu i zacrveni se u licu.Počinje iz početka, ali se čuje samo
Ja...
(aplauz traje još žešće)
Publika iz drugog reda se probija napred. Ovi, sad iz zadnjeg trapa, negoduju. Ja ih vidi, ali nije siguran šta se dešava. Otvara usta i nešto viče. Prvi i drugi red su u delirijumu i na trenutak prestaju da se svadjaju oko pozicija. Jer,
(novi talas aplauza ih sve prekida, treći red se opasno primiče i ne prestaje da aplaudira)
Ja, ozarenog lica zatvara usta i uživa u pogledu neko vreme. Ne zaboravlja da se zahvali dubokim naklonom.Iz džepa vadi žvaku i stavlja je u usta.Shvata da bi ruke trebalo da stavi u džepove.
Iz mase se probija jedna ruka i na pozornicu baca nešto. Tresak, a onda tišina.
Izmešani redovi ćute. Ja prestaje da duva balon. Svi gledaju u pravcu ruke. Masa se lagano razdvaja i on počinje da govori u svom brisanom prostoru. Iščekivanje...
- Ja...
(kao stidljivo, aplauz se promalja od nekud. Prvi Ja maše rukama . Niko ga ne vidi. Sada već viče, ali ga niko ne čuje. Pokušava da se probije kroz nekadašnji drugi-prvi red, ali se zaglavljuje na početku. Ovi oko-starog-Ja nešto negoduju, ali su isuviše daleko od nove publike novog Ja.)
BrandnewJa nešto govori. Ovi okolo se pogledaše, a onda počinju da aplaudiraju. Novi Ja je zbunjen, osmehuje se. Ponovo diže ruku i maše im. Otvara usta da nešto kaže, ali ga gromoglasni aplauz prekida.
Neko pritiska dugme i zavesa se spušta.
Aplauz ne prestaje.
Ne zna se da l' je na dugme.
Publika ustaje i oduševljeno pozdravlja klepetom stisnutih dlanova. Čini mi se da su svi ispeglani.
Iz mase se promalja jedna ruka...
Šta sam ono htela da kažem...
OUT IN THE OPEN
We walk stealthily like mad wolves.
Blood trickles down from the livid jaws, grinning,
Threatening to devour.
Majestic, our limbs flutter; float around like a fire
Fear...
Somewhere in the black night the hauling call hides
the shadows of the moment.
Molten, mingled, elegant like martyrs
We stagger, stoop and seize simultaneously.
Like a king on a forgotten throne,
Like a fairy in a forsaken land,
Like a sinner in a temple of virtue,
Like a saint pierced with a spear.
The crevice in our chests opens a black, timeless hole.
There is only one way, for the immortals.
Go deeper into the flesh!!!
No amends, no reproach, just oblivion.
The bliss of the blame helps...
The lingering hope lies above,
Underneath the illusions of an arrested decency
We mope around in a convenient asylum
respectably.
Disillusioned, disheartened, enchanted by a heinous piper
- It's not over till the fat ladies sing, he says.
There is only one way out - The way in.
Radni naslov je mogao i da bude „Shopping & Fucking", ali ne zato što je to drama koja se pamti po naslovu, kaonpr: Shopping & ono što svi rade,
Ili
samo Shopping & gerund,
ili Shopping & značajna interpunkcija koja vernog posetioca može navesti da je reč o,
na primer nečemu jako važnom.
Ne.
Ja bih o Geriju, čije je vapaje (ako se dugogodišnje silovanje može skrckati u jednu reč) neko konačno čuo i duboko-smisaono-i-značajno/terapeutski pretvorio u mater-of-fact pitanje:
'Da li koristiš kondom?'
To je, otprilike kao momenat kada Džimi, osvrćući se u besu, kaže:
'Let's pretend that we're human beings and that we're actually alive.'
Znam, većina vas koji ste se, uprkos blablatrućkanju (i to podužem) drznuli da nastavite da čitate dovde (ne zameram, ni ja ovo ne bih čitala), već zatvara stranu bloga koji je u stvari trebalo da bude o Šekspiru.
„I understand it's full of foul language - Shakespeare didn't need it, did he?", rekao je ministar obrazovanja, povodom značajne interpunkcije.
I ruka se pomalja kroz masu...
"....why talk of beauty what could be more beaut-
iful than these heroic happy dead
who rushed like lions to the roaring slaughter
they did not stop to think they died instead
then shall the voice of liberty be mute?"
HE SPOKE. AND DRANK RAPIDLY A GLASS OF WATER.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________
HAMLET-ACTOR
I am not Hamlet. I play no role anymore. My words have nothing more to say to me. My thoughts suck the blood of images. My drama is cancelled. Behind me the scenery is being taken down. By people who are not interested in my drama, for people, to whom it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter to me either. I'm not playing along anymore. Stagehands install, unknown to Hamlet-actor, a refrigerator and three TV sets. Humming of the refrigerator. Three programs without sound. The scenery is a monument. It portrays a man who made history, a hundred times life-size. The petrification of a hope. His name in interchangeable. The hope has not been fulfilled. The monument lies on the ground, razed three years after the state funeral of the Hated and Honored One by those who now rule us. And the stone is inhabited. In the spacious nose and earholes, in the folds of skin and uniform of the shattered icon dwell the poorer population of the metropolis. At the fall of the monument followed, after an appropriate time, the Rebellion.
My drama, if it could yet take place, would happen in the Time of the Rebellion. The Rebellion begins as an urban promenade. Against the traffic regulations during working hours. The streets belong to the pedestrians. Here and there an auto is overturned. Evil dream of a knife-thrower: the slow journey down a one-way street to an irrevocable parking-spot, which is surrounded by armed pedestrians. Police who get in the way are simply pushed aside.
When the procession approaches the district of the rulers, it is brought to a halt by a police cordon. Groups form, out of which speakers arise. On the balcony of a Government building appears a man with a badly fitting suit and starts to speak. When the first stone hits him, he draws back behind the double-doors fitted with bulletproof glass.
From the call for more freedom comes the cry for the overthrow of the Government. People begin to disarm the police, storming two three buildings, a jail a police station an office of the secret police, hanging a dozen quislings of the authorities by the feet, the Government deploys troops, tanks. My place, if my drama ever took place, would be at both sides of the front, between the fronts, over them. I stand in the sweating masses and throw stones at the police soldiers tanks bulletproof glass. I glance through the double-door outfitted with bulletproof glass at the oncoming crowd and smell the perspiration of my fear.
I shake, choked with nausea, my fist against myself, standing behind the bulletproof glass. I see, choked by fear and loathing, myself in the oncoming crowd, foam licking at my lips, shaking my fist against myself. I hang my uniformed flesh by the feet. I am the soldier in the tank-turret, my head is empty under the helmet, the strangled cry under the chains. I am the typewriter. I tie the noose, when the leaders are hanged, kick the stool away, break my neck I am my own prisoner. I feed my data into the computer. My roles are spit and spittoon knife and wound teeth and gum neck and gallows. I am the data-bank. Bleeding in the crowd. Exhaling behind the double doors. Wordslime bubbling in soundproof speech-balloons over the battle.
My drama has not taken place. The script was lost.
The actors hung their faces on the nails of the garderobe.
The stage-prompter rots in his box.
The overstuffed plague-corpses in themaudience don't move a finger.
I go home and kill time, at one / with my undivided self.
Television The daily revulsion Disgust
at prefabricated babble At manufactured merriment
How do you spell FRIENDLINESS
Give us our daily murder
For Thine is Nothingness Revulsion
At the lies which are believed
By the liars and noone else Revulsion
At the lies which are believed Revulsion
at the faces of the power-brokers lined and seamed
from the struggle for posts votes bank-accounts
Revulsion A cart of scythes crackling with one-liners
I go through the streets malls faces
with the scars of the shopping blitz
Poverty
without dignity Poverty without the dignity
of the knife of the boxing ring of the fist
The brutalized bodies of the women
Hope of the generations
Strangled in blood cowardice stupidity
Laughter of dead bellies
Heil COCA COLA
A kingdom
for a murderer
I WAS MACBETH THE KING HAD OFFERED ME HIS THIRD CONCUBINE I
KNEW EVERY BIRTHMARK ON HER HIPS RASKOLNIKOV AT HEART UNDER
THE ONLY OVERCOAT THE AXE FOR THE / ONLY / SKULL OF THE
PAWNBROKERESS
In the loneliness of the airports
I exhale I am
Privileged My revulsion
is a privilege
Screened by a wall
Barbed wire prison
Photograph of the author.
I don't want to eat drink breathe love a woman a man a child an animal anymore. I don't
want to die anymore. I don't want to kill anymore.
Tearing up of the photograph of the author.
I break open my sealed-off flesh. I want to live in my veins, in the marrow
of my bones,
in the labyrinth of my skull. I withdraw into my intestines. I take refuge in my shit, my
blood. Somewhere bodies are being broken, so that I can live in my shit. Somewhere
bodies are being carved open, so that I can be alone with my blood. My thoughts are
wounds in my brain. My brain is a wound. I want to be a machine. Arms to grasp legs to
walk no pain no thoughts.
Television screens go black. Blood from the refrigerator. Three naked women: Marx
Lenin Mao. Speak simultaneously each in their own language the text
IT IS A QUESTION OF OVERTHROWING ALL SOCIAL RELATIONS, IN WHICH HUMAN
BEINGS ARE...
Hamlet-actor puts on costume and mask.
HAMLET THE DANE PRINCE AND FEAST FOR WORMS STUMBLING
FROM HOLE TO HOLE TO THE LAST HOLE, LUSTERLESS
IN THE BACK THE SPECTER WHICH MADE HIM
GREEN LIKE OPHELIA'S FLESH IN CHILDBED
AND SCARCE AFORE THE THIRD COCK'S CROW TORE
A FOOL THE CLOWN-COSTUME
OF THE PHILOSOPHER
THEN CRAWLED A WELLKEPT BLOODHOUND INTO THE TANK
Steps into armor, splits the heads of Marx Lenin Mao with the axe. Snowfall. Ice Age.