Been to DC-99 in the morning. In the afternoon, went to take pictures of Ivka's daughter. Had trouble with the fine grain developer, for which I got the recipe from that photographer in the printery. It takes forever - two rolls, hour and a half, and it was thin. Got even more annoyed the next evening when I did the prints (but nowadays, looking at those, they are actually quite good). Took to reading a lot, just to cool down my nerves - after Hemingway, switched to Odyssey (won't ever finish Iliad, too much war).
On 18th went to Veca and Sneca, for another boring afternoon, but then they had some friend - a year older than me, medical high, mini showing nice legs, interesting face. Eyes and lips unusual, intriguing. The conversation snagged very often, but gradually thawed and, well, we'll go see "Love story" tomorrow. Just to see what kind of bullshit is Hollywood selling now.
The girl isn't stupid at all, only looks so when she tries to say something smart, doesn't feel natural. We'll see.
The next day there was a lot of fuss - out of six tickets (her brother was also supposed to go, he's in Veca's class in the elementary, and one more person, don't know who) two were missing. They both got very annoyed, recriminations were flying across, all the suppressed jealousies and who knows what have burst like a champagne cork. This new girl and I were somehow above the fuss, almost allies, and our eyes have met a few times, when I wasn't ogling her legs. The tickets were found, of course, in a very obvious place, nervous and blind make a double blind.
The movie is tepid... good colors, nice shots here and there, straight narative editing and that's about it. The rest is just the typical Hollywood, the old one trying to squeeze some more money from the same old. Eh, those Americans.
One evening, tuesday perhaps, I went with the trio to Dom, and at least had fun watching as they refused at least six guys who asked to dance. I've seen complaining looks addressed to me, to which I could just shrug, I'm just the escort here, don't ask me. The (unspoken or already spoken by that time) agreement was that I'd be the minder. So, take the girls out to have fun... take the cake but don't eat it. Now have a cake. Worked perfectly, no fun at all.
On 21st Pop again failed to show up at the club, so no keys. Walked home. Stood a bit with my ex barber (started cutting my own hair this winter - seeing how it's impossible to teach that old horse any new tricks, whatever you tell him, he does as he knows so result is always the same, and besides, I can't stand football talk), commented about the alleged bill to ban long hair. It won't pass, I said, or we'll have another revolution. (it didn't, and we didn't, or it was just a gossip, or someone testing the waters)
In the evening, Sneca, Veca and the other Veca (same name, my mom called her Double Veca) appeared quite late. The only fun moment was recounting the faces of those six poor guys. The Other Veca was in less of a shape, except the eyes, still kind of mysterious, though the glint wasn't there. At least we all go to Dom tomorrow, where it takes mouth to ear contact to speak and be understood. Here at home it's all silent, every word is heard. Now it would be different if I was alone with her but - she's let out on the condition that we all go together.
On 22nd Tejka came. Tiptoed into the room, to see my mom first, something about returning the pack of cigarettes. Mom is still mad at her for not having me at the doček. "But I invited him!". Yeah, right, she did, her "you can also come if you want" is nowhere near "be sure to come" from the host himself. Mom said I'll make more in the future, but none of the old gang will be invited. By then I finished glueing the brush (what?) and came in. Tejka was looking at something very interesting on the floor. I saw right away that something's off, but then she asked to borrow the "Hair" album to record it to tape. Bring the recorder here, if you want. Or record some cute russian school songs (a gentle reminder of what she did in october 1970.). "That means you're not giving it". "Bring the recorder here, record all you want. The record is not leaving the house."
Anyway, I went to fetch the trio. The other Veca was late, they were still at dinner (the apartments are facing each other across the parking), then she had to get ready... arrived at 20:20. Then it was the wanna go, donwanna go tossing match between them. One doesn't want to go, then the other one won't go without her, then yes then no... So after a whole hour of nerves, we went up and watched Welles's worst movie, "Lady from Shanghai". After a while I got fed up and asked the other Veca to go out with me tomorrow. Her folks won't let her out without the other two. Which leaves it open to yet another blackmail, so I just thanked them for the evening, took my leave and spat on the pavement when there was noone arround.
At home, to make things worse, the TV is in my room, so in the evenings and on sunday afternoons they sit in front of it. Watching "Peyton place", which is about the first one that I started avoiding. It's so fucking american. Nice camera work, with usually one person standing in the front on the side, talking to another in the far back on the other side, wide angle... except that it's just about the only technique they use, and do it all the time. Loses any meaning after six times, and besides, the whole thing is one big ad for american way of life. So at best times I'm not in my room.
On 23rd, a sunday, at the time for the series, I prefered to be away - mom said she has to keep mum when dad is listening to the news or I to Nikola Nešković, so OK, she deserves the honor. I simply went up to Other Veca. Her kid brother opened up, good, I didn't get lost. Convincing her to get out in the evening, however, didn't work... She wasn't sure she'd be let out (unless a blackmail combination could be worked out) and even then it takes her tree hours to make up. I already managed to ask her whether she has a boyfriend, well yes sort of up there in the village near the border (so they are yet another fresh transplant as of what, a year ago, and this guy sort of still counts?). We sat until 22:30, talked, talked, talked, spilled a lot of beans... and then she's visiting the village these days, it's vacation time. So OK, let this sit a little.
On 26th Dragana came while I was playing chess with dad (again?). She ditched CD the other day... she said she won't come to Dom and then came with some other company. He becunted ("popizdeo" - became angry - translate better if you can) right away. She sent him off, who is he to take away her liberty, bla bla. He didn't know who he was dealing with, error 1; he took her too seriously, error 2.
Lots of Korni Grupa that day - first NN had the drummer in the studio, then the (new!) 2nd channel ran "Korni sound", which is some work shots from the studio and then 22 minutes of "First light in house number 4", live recording from Skopje 1970 (this became publicly available around 2017; at this point I just wished I had a tape recorder).
28th saw other Veca somewhere in passing... thought she was in the village. Hmm, missed five days for nothing. Veca and Sneca passed by as well, just dropped to say they've also been there in the village, went to disco there every evening. Yeah, right, and here you can't make them go with a shotgun.
Dad is traveling often these days, grandpa had surgery, pancreas successfully removed, done now.
Finished reading Odyssey. The Greeks had some special views on love, sex and life in general. I made notes.
So... if she was here, I should contact her right away. Wrong, she was here but travels now. Comedy of confusion is based on bad communications. I didn't even ask when will she be back. (It's theoretically possible that the travel was invented because of me - there's a guy visiting, may become frequent, let's get her away). Came home and found Ilona - boy have you grown, I'm so glad to see you, I'm so glad... didn't you meet Aranka? She just went off with some friends... So I went off, despite planning not to go, and the crowd there at Dom was incredible, of course I didn't find them (and who knows where they went). After a few steps Dragana and Slavka spotted me and called me to sit up with them (there was a sort of podium with chairs, perhaps 40cm above the floor, used mostly as spillover wardrobe (and later, allegedly, as a camouflage to fuck behind). Joška and Pišta were there. I asked Slavka to ask them if they knew who I was. Nope. So tell them my nickname. Ah so you are that guy... and this is my brother, the impotent one. So now we officially know each other (though I was never able to know who is who), and I got a fresh sampe of humor from MPSŠC. It seems that I've put both at ease, I'm not such a mysterious guy, just a mysteriously famous frajer in our small circle. Wish I could get those two sisters among this bunch, that would be a feat.
Some girl and I exchanged glances. She was mad and I was falling in love, deadly. Then she came closer. I changed my mind. I already know the prettiest girl in town, and this is not it. Walked Dragana home, and she told me how she balanced at least four guys who tried, one of them seems madly enamored but prevented by the other three. She's lucky that way.
30th at DC-99, Pop came from the first FEST. Fresh feathers, full of fresh ideas. Lazar drove us to Lesnina (they are neighbors there). He has an idea for a movie, but wouldn't divulge in the club, only when we were alone, well, almost - that rich kid mummy was just listening in. The movie would be called "PAIN" and would contain bare facts, no story, about crying, crying, pain, misery, poverty... anything that is hard to look at. The rich kid was just standing and listening*.
On home front, fighting with my folks about sleeping - I tend to lie down as late as possible, and wake up even later. They don't like it and nag me in hundred small ways. Wish I could skip the afternoons somehow, that would be perfect.
I don't run after the bus, and I don't care if it's full. If I get in, fine, if not, well, it's only five to ten minutes longer without. I still get there by eight. Or 14:00. Had to stop writing about that, mom came threatening, it was 2:40.
Of course, that was only an introduction into a full scale confrontation, which is a nasty job. Can't be sincere because there's always some detail that they won't like and will stretch it in all directions, and, besides, my private life (or lack thereof) is not their business. I did concede only that I am very nervous lately, and even that got ridiculed as "what, only sixteen and already nervous! Don't phantasize!". As if being a nervous wreck is somehow a sign of being spoiled and pampered, a luxurious whim. That was the sure telltale sign to clam up and stop even pretending to be sincere. Granma was, matter of fact, the most cruel, she even reminded me of a couple of nasty names other kids called me when I was a toddler. Sure way to get my confidence in myself, and them too... I don't know what they wanted to achieve, but they sure got me raising my defences and digging the moat.
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* while I was writing all this, I found some other place where I wrote that he was a relative to Furcula... which now makes sense in a different light, see „painting the club“ and udbaš. Regardless, Pop had a career in the movies later, I didn't, Furcula was notoriously known for what he was, and the rich kid died a tad early, I'd say before age of sixty.