december 1973.

Confused week, and I wrote the diary two weeks later, so... chaos.

Photos for the tablo*. We discussed and almost agreed that I should do the pics, and when we were already in agreement and quite tired of the discussion, Savka, who kept mum all the time, comes up with the suggestion that we do it the classic way. We know how it will look, it will be retouched beyond recognition, the photographer will remove all the spots, shave nicks, will soften the light, caligraph the names... the trade. With that we'll look more like the other tabloes and all the others from previous years, than like ourselves. So... we may be well organized when it comes to drinking, making excuses and evading, and even that only when it's brief. So I gave up on my magnum opus, which was to glorify the skin irregularities, moustaches in near future, thin sideburns and weary eyes. Do what you want.

Friday the 21st is Zova's birthday, šeri brendi again. Radisav got me to the blackboard, something about economics, and I know we talked about Raquel Welch (that she's a meter and razor tall, but they lower the camera so she looks taller) and had we been sober I'd have done badly.

After school she waited for me (... 11 word...). Went to Vojvodina for a movie, something about how the prisoners of the system hate the free, when seeing them makes it clear how they are not free themselves... it's just that I didn't write down the movie, probably "Joe, that's America too" (which is translation back, not necessarily enough to guess the original title, the distributors would often go wild when making a title for the yugoslav market). And the copy was a bit chopped.

Forgot to congratulate her on the anniversary, eleven months though... we make a schedule for tomorrow.

Saturday morning. I'm waiting, and just when I meant to say "I've waited my due, what can I do, she's not coming", there she comes. So congratulations first, eleven kisses, one for each month. First to R. at the bookshop, to buy greeting cards.

- got anyone on a card who is so hairy and fuzzy like me?

- you kidding me?

- cmon you see he ain't got, take these drunks

- well okay

Then bought me some corduroy jacket, a size larger so it's a bit wider but better than my size with sleeves too short. It has a belt, so the extra width is not too much of a problem. Bought a pair of parrot socks like she has.

At school in the afternoon, first mocked Čarga that his mom got him drunk, well it's army day... The girls bought us each a book, "Pencil writes with heart", which is a collection of witty and unexpected answers to standard questions that two psychologists gathered from children aged around 4-6 or thereabouts. It has good pearls and unexpected wisdom. It attained some glory, and in the following years we even saw it on the stage, by Drama workshop Centar. I brought another bottle of šeri. Didn't drink, Mjedac got my share.

I wanted to take the car to school but dad wouldn't give it, rather drove it in the afternoon and handed me the keys. Luckily, I left school just right on time - the classes were shortened, ŽGLJ was away. And I appeared on štrafta also right on time. That means that she appeared exactly at her usual sixteenth minute. (... 153 words...) Talked at random, he retold the "Bluebeard", then how the city beauty pageant was - there were only four girls candidates. And four prizes.

Upon return practiced butting into the garage. Made a nice hole by the path, got it right the third time.

On sunday we played cards until her bus. Dad had maths exam, results on tuesday, on thursday latest. That V. who tutored him a lot last year, didn't appear in a while, don't remember seeing her much lately. She was a chick and a half, and I don't know why they picked her and who was she intended for, perhaps as a bait for me, to wise up finally and find a girl (it was mostly june 1972, when my crisis was near its end). It was largely a miss, not even in a delirium she wouldn't cross my mind unless she had nothing on, she wore everything wrong. The skirt was a mini but nylon stockings in the middle of june, c'mon. And white heeled shoes... not firing me up at all, no matter how built she was.

On monday written (drawn) on descriptive [geometry] at Š.Đ... not that I founded a Resava school**, I founded a printery - I did one for myself, then for Dragana, Tejka and Bajče. They promised me a treat, I died (of fatigue).

(now for this bit the time is approximate, I only remember we were in afternoon shift, as the scene happens in lamplight, so the sun set around 18:00 or earlier, as art was the sixth class in both the third and fourth grade)

The art class, with our beautifully weird professor, who was both a gentleman and a bohemian of sorts at the same time (Radoje later told me he forgot an umbrella in the classroom (!) and kept him for a whole hour after the shift, scouring the building to find it, unsuccessfully). I have prepared a translation of Don McLean's "Vincent", and since the poor guy (van Gogh, that is) was the subject of the day, I asked the professor if we could hear this translation.

Of course, Bosa recited it. I don't remember how good the translation was, perhaps just correct and in places true to the spirit of the original, clumsy and rough in the rest of it, but it conveyed the general feel of the song/poem (it's the same word in serbian anyway), and I think we had a true moment of art there. Bosa should become an actress, if there's any justice.

The professor didn't comment much, perhaps he wasn't really listening, following his own train of thought. Perhaps he liked it.

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* Probably from french tableaux. It's a big piece of solid cardboard, with pictures of everyone in the class are posted, along with the classmaster, optionally the school director and sometimes the other professors. The pictures would usually be postcard size or somewhat smaller, heavily retouched, everyone in the same garment (that is one for girls one for boys), with the best hairdo. It would be laid out in a window of some shop on main street for a few weeks around the graduation.

** Medieval thing, XV century, where monks copied holy books. Even wikipedia mentions this second meaning, copying, i.e. plagiarism or cheating at written tasks.


Mentions: Bosiljka Šain (Bosa), Branislav Bačikin (Bajče), Dragana Vitas (Dragana), Radisav Pajsić, Radoje Maletin, Savka Čajkanić, Slavica Tejin (Tejka), štrafta, Velemir Prokin (Čarga), Zdravko Smetovački (Zova), Živko Mjedenica (Mjedac), Živorad G Ljubišić (ŽGLJ), in serbian