And then in November, loneliness Tristesse * Recently I saw a colored letter on the desk of writer-director-writer-scandalist such Zajefajny gadget under the outstretched paw of the back of the book and helping to block transmission of the parties. The ideal case for the arduous klepaczy the keyboard, which wants to be something more exact quote. I am writing - probably "want to", because somehow lately it seems to me that the biggest sensation in years doing the last thing and the matter taken out of context-riddled, publicity, fragmentary. Then - a scrap - set vis a vis the distorting mirror, and even perhaps the whole of their range. And with surprising passion discussed with deformed reflections, those already pokaleczonych things / issues / subjects. At one point, the discussion reaches such a climax that no one wants to remember that this is just the spectrum, it is bits and pieces of ... But no matter. It's a reflection on the margins, perhaps a sliver argument and explain why for some time did not really want me to write. Moreover, "most beautiful" This cuts my face at times boundless misery, or in the dark autumn evenings, so you may need to wait. Hence
not finish the previous entry, because the quality and the nerve of those planned for the events I have somehow floated out of your head, does not seem so funny now, or revealing.
But with the holiday fervor and turmoil, I have two "refleksyjki. The first is the constant longing for Transylvania, and Iberia. You could say that it does not Visiting these places, I feel some orphans, O-emigrated from the right environment, which, even if I have to leave for a longer period, it is the perspective and faith that soon I will return to the right place. And maybe that's why I just wish this was already autumn :-) continually manage to somehow always be the first to write in the blogosphere that there will soon fall. Summer no longer can afford to go to hell.
So for the second time with the holiday "refleksyjek" to close the summer themes. Well, somehow, recently, testing is no longer sometimes I was particularly pleased to achieve the so-called reading. poetry. I do not read longer poems, nor does it interest me quarrels, Italy and achy trends of new and old, trendy, niche, whether classical or club pre or post conservative, social, or anarcho ch .. knows what poets. I just did not and that's that.
(
had to do an introduction to ... )
with surprise and satisfaction ordinary easiest read in the last summer season, two (not new) pieces, which made me terribly, but it's awful and very like. Somehow perfectly dograły / zgrały together and more time than they gave to the analysis of current events in the political and social life of the country (though I can not without irritation read "magazines fleszowych opinion," and reaching the journalism department usually refer the impression that the authors have more readers for debili than is usually attributed to politicians - and perhaps there is some reason? - In peeling this perspective: my receiver - my debil?). Put it this way. Let's go back to the lines.
The first is the "set of icons" of Gottfried Benn (unfortunately here in a different translation than the one that ended up in the monthly 'Odra', but unfortunately the store was probably fucked the garbage by my beloved, who, acting in accordance with the dictates of his subconscious, held that in the bucket of waste paper is its place :-) too bad because that translation was a buzz in itself, a bit of work if less ...)
mouth girl, who long lay in the rushes looked like ogryzione
.
When the chest was opened, the esophagus was torn.
Finally, under the arch of the diaphragm
find nest of young rats.
little sister was lying dead. Other
ate liver and kidneys,
saw a cool head, and survived
feel beautiful youth.
and beauty, but fast, she found they also die:
thrown them all into the water.
Oh, how kwiczały little snout!
(Beautiful youth)
Ha, I do not know why, but it took me to this piece as a perfect picture, the essence of what I call: młodzieżowością, pop culture, twentieth-century paradigm of the cult of youth, not so much as a biological condition, every mental formation. And the second
Author - Reiner Kunze: Die
before me, a little earlier
you not
Alone you came home
(supplication mind on your feet).
kuwa, if I ever again be a young and willing to write banialuków person, I would like to write something like that :-) But I did it Kunze, so intent upon request contained in the preceding sentence hang in the drawer with the inscription: extremely illogical claims of Pat; -)
dyrdymalenia
And so the first day of work after a too short summer break.
* quotation from the poem by Gottfried Benn
