01-V-1972.:
Visiting cousins in Vršac for mayday weekend - Aleksandar et al, up on the hill where they have a cottage. Piglet on a spit, barbecue. There was some girl, a high school senior, her dad got drunk and she was a bit crazy. It was all fine, lots of good food and good air - we flatlanders always fall for it - and seen all of that branch of the family. Went also to granma's village, saw her sister(s), their old house, a horse... everything. Just nothing much to write about. I saw the local movie club (know some guys) have space in their Dom, nobody there on a holiday but passed my regards via one of the uncles (mom's brothers-by-aunt).
That uncle was the only one of all the relatives that was this fat, which he used as an excuse whenever his wife would accuse him of cheating, „how could I do it being so fat, are you out of your mind?“.
About Višnja... there's a story that the guy she's with is a prospective local young actor, who is not even with the theatre, but somewhere in Belgrade or so. (he did end up doing some nice roles in some big movies, though never the main ones, which may have come in time but he died in a car crash, or was it cancer, by the end of decade) That got me thinking how I could somehow, well could have but didn't, sneak my way up into those circles. Hindsight, and naive reasoning altogether. Still, being in those circles somehow would count as scoring some points somewhere. Though I figured I'd get there sooner or later, will find a way.
On 3rd I found courage again to go down to the first grade, their equivalent of KČS, and got Z. to sit against me, across her desk, come closer, closer, and whispered into her ear the offer to be a couple. IOW, I asked her. It's a no. Give me one good reason why. The letters... And sure enough, there were some love letters from some guy on her desk. Ouch, too late again. Firm clasp of hands in parting. Late, late again. And she reminded me, just there, of Pepsi. The resemblance was, honestly, stunning at the moment.
Come to think of it, the Portrait is a love movie. Differs from normal movies just as a love letter differs from normal letters.
On 4th went to watch some quiz at Dom - our gimnazija against medical high - over, I guess, knowing the history of the revolution*. Š. and his rock band "Alter ego" were there, and Gavra and I mocked them dead. (whatever that meant - I don't remember them even being there)
Next day, Dragana was simmering Zova, sat in his lap and he suddenly had two hands too many. Višnja was enchanted that I returned the Beatles album all cleaned up (funny how girls tend to be all neat and clean about other things, but rarely pay enough attention to sensitive pieces like lenses or records). The third girl came up to me with "Hello, loner... why do you hate me?" "why would I?" "well you're looking at me so" "just lost in your witchy eyes...".
Spužva didn't appear today, again.
Mom and dad went to Belgrade to do some shopping, got me Lennon's "Imagine" album (the third in the collection now). It lacks the inner sleeve with lyrics, probably the shopkeeper borrowed it to someone, or it was opened to be played in the shop, and someone just lifted it. Never mind, I can take them down, even more interesting that way.
In the evening I developed the rest of the "Portrait" - the black and white parts we shot at D.M., and toned it in sepia.
On 7th we all worked a lot in the club. Took the editor home and did the Portrait most of the afternoon, though most of the inspiration has already evaporated. When I ran it in the end, it didn't look as I imagined it would, but it may be actually alright.
I wanted to watch "The show of Hamlet in Mrduša Donja, Blatište municipality" but to somehow evade paying the ticket. And then I remembered how many folks do all kinds of weird things just to get into the scene, to be recorded for a bit of glory (didn't know of McLuhan's "fifteen minutes of fame" yet, but was thinking along the same line**), so I figured that the gadget which has a lens in front may open many doors. So I attached the club's flash to regula and took the ticket money along. And it worked. Not that I went in smoothly, but the theatre's director (ie manager - the top guy in any enterprise is a director here) called me to keep coming to shoot the following shows. It was the festival of theatres of Vojvodina, an he was this year's host.
Made friends with a wonderful girl who works there, as an usher, but she's a student and at least three years older, which means a lot at "this age, which, for a guy of my age, isn't much of an age" (Moma Kapor).
The show was excellent. Considering that the dialect is that of somewhere between Knin and Lika, and the theatre was probably of Sombor or Bačka Topola, they got everything right, didn't use any cheap tricks, perfect.
On 8th I was already under some strain. The festival in Kula isn't far, and now this theatre festival, and end of school year coming near, I'm losing some nerve. Then D.M. said she can't give me the tapes, her mom got her recorder locked. Then Tejka had a fight with Bajče, the crazy vintage '56. In the afternoon my folks went to buy some better suit for dad, he's off to USSR tomorrow. In the evening Tejka came to help me in the lab. She had some digestion problems, ate green ringlov (kind of plum, often yellow and rounder than the regular, slightly different taste and texture). I had trouble with the new tape recorder from the club, couldn't manage a proper jack to hear the sound through the radio, and when I did it didn't sound right. (I guess the input was for phonograph, with preamp to decompress the bass - which I didn't know then), heard just some of "Variola ekspres" by Korni grupa, which was later published as "Divlje jagode" (wild strawberries), with a completely different text, and was a great hit.
The pictures turned out quite bad, the regula, even after being fixed, has trouble focusing. I'll manage with something from Lazar.
----
* not exactly; it was always about some fresh book on the subject, and the knowledge wasn't about the revolution as such, but about what's in that book. So it was about cramming, not broad knowledge.
** it's not McLuhan, but that Russine, Vorhola.
Mentions: Aleksandar Zarin, Branislav Bačikin (Bajče), Dom omladine, Dragana Vitas (Dragana), Gavrilo Taroški (Gavra), gimnazija, Lazar Josin, regula, Slavica Tejin (Tejka), Višnja Lazin, Zdravko Smetovački (Zova), in serbian