Few days ago (the actual date is in the previous notebook of the diary), poetry evening in Dom. Vanji talked us into coming, it's both free and good fun. The art director was scrambling to fill the seats, barely. Some elder hippy, inventory here, theorizes about the local bands' drummers. It's a bit cold.
CD somehow astonished me, it's not art what he wrote but hits me somewhere. Vanji himself has good stuff, I'll have to get the book, published by local Ulaznica (entry ticket, literally).
She has a new hairdress. Sleš is freezing. One guy has zippers up the legs of his trousers, unzipped them all the way. Has crazy legs.
On the way out we eat corn on the green market.
On 12th, sociology class, and our professor was so devastated with the putsch in Chile, the class was actually devoted to the subject, didn't matter what she had planned. She was all for a road to socialism via elections, why not do it peacefully. She was likewise excited, in a positive way, when Allende got elected and Chile started to prosper.
Yesterday she came around 9:30. For the umpteenth time she watches me having breakfast, and I don't even know whether I ate at all, munch it quickly then into the room, show the slides. Then take her pictures for her index and that special sunshine in her hair, lots of poetry in all those shots. She stayed a good while.
At noon I handle the homework then straight to school. After school, with B.N. I do "Business inc." (another movie I absolutely don't remember). Animation progresses slowly and weakly, at least by the end Gavra came to mock us.
At Sonja's class, some guy comes to announce somtething, about the choir. This was the regular way - any professor who organizes anything would send a student, preferrably with a note to read aloud, to go from class to class during a class. Sonja greeted the guy by surname, so we knew he's in one of her classes. Bilja had to ask what grade is the guy. First four. And then Bilja just had to blurt „then why is he so outthrown“. [ouch, there's no good translation for „razbacan“, which is literally „thrown away in all direction“, i.e. big hunk of a guy, well built]
Today went to town to buy some paint. Rudolf writes frequently, may come for easter. At school all good for nothing, but she waits for me afterwards. We don't go to a movie, "Žuta" ("The yellow one") is still not on. Maybe we'd go to disco, but it's Jozda's birthday (actually party is today, he was sick then). She doesn't feel like going. I say I'm okay with your gang, and my yahoos may be completely nuts. Čarga is a bullshitter, and Matori may be primitive and J.B. is limited but he's okay, the rest are more or less fine. Gavra is a case to itself, but him you know. And she agreed.
The party is madhouse. I had several vinjaks without the accompanying sandwitch, so they weren't canceled. She had two beers. We went east often. Mostly sat in a corner. One of the host's Herzegovinians tried to simmer her but I was there, so we got him drunk too. (... 13 words...) Jozda played "Black butterflies" several times, sometimes without anything in between.
We take off at 22:30, I complain about my fly, is semiautomatic. Opens by itself, luckily closes by hand. She says that's because you sit with Bilja. Um, yah, even now I'm not drunk enough for that. She's okay but I'm not the one. And I spilled a bunch more of incoherence and then appologized for that. (... 27 words...)
Slapping myself on the way back to sober up, doesn't work. Dropping by the party for a bit more. Home at about 1:40.
Next day, painting my room. Will take some time. Four different purple walls. Ceiling light milky blue. Floorplanks milky pink. Against the cocklestove furnace, a white square sized exactly to fit a projected slide. And the chandelier goes into three mother's cunts to be seen no more*. In the attic I find a cask from grandfather's tavern, woven with wicketwork, which is rotten on the bottom. I take it to Staklobanat, to glasscutters, to remove the bottom so it can serve as chandelier. The bottom is of unequal thickness, going between 2 and 20mm, this was handblown some sixty years ago or more. So I start with shilling to the majstors, "they told me this is impossible to cut without it completely breaking, but I've come to you for an explanation: why is this impossible?". Of course, the professional pride gets worked up and they cut it just to show me how good they are, for free. The edge is jagged but inside the wicket, so it doesn't matter. I painted the wicket and the chain on which I hung it in red. Didn't hang it in the same place, center of the room, but some 60cm to the window. I have a lair, when this is finished.
Sparse notes for the period. I'm learning to drive, the course is nearly at end. Her nose is a bit runny(... 13 words...). Her nose is like zastava 101, nice design but quality lags, it leaks. Watched the "Žuta", Ružica is really good. After the movie we can't leave each other. The wind carries dust, kills.
At school the usual autumn shit, some kind of secret session (19th), director inserted it on the run, haircut for us, work clothes for girls (anything that is black, looks like a dress and has a collar, preferrably white). All same as last year. Our daddy, Marko Bozon, mentions some sending home, and me specially he kept after the class, director sent him to scalp me. We backandforthed a dozen minutes without convincing each other. "Director is well known and recognized and when he says you must, then should we invite your parents or shall you do as the school nicely begs you". Oh, yeah, "must" and "nicely begs" in the same sentence, on the same thing. What kind of begging is that, I say, if there will be consequences if I don't? I am no fool, I'll cut my hair if I must, but that stops as soon as I get out of here. You haven't convinced me. And why me? Well director saw you at the beginning of the year. Ah, what made me stand in the front row... And actually it's not then, it's a week or so ago (nope, back in may) when we were tasked to move the piano from the staff room to the newly equipped music cabinet (which I entered then and never again, is probably used only for choir rehearsals). The pedals mechanism was standing out and would surely break when we go down the stairs, so I bent down to unscrew it. When I got up, my hair was everywhere, as it hung while I was down there. So disheveled I found myself standing half a meter from the director, of course he saw me. Well screw the pedals, why did have to be so helpful.
On saturday I came with my sideburns a bit shorter. In the evening I waited for her until 21:20 and then there's rain and she's coming with her friends. By the time we got in, we were all wet. Finally heard why she likes my neck: no beard there. When I got home I did cut some hair, so I wasn't looking like much on sunday. She didn't mind, were in quite a good mood in the evening. Found another alternate path, behind the old špiritana, we now have some five paths between downtown and her place.
On tuesday (25th) went to komitet to youth HQ, to see about the annual sitting (to get rid of position/duty/function), they say it's good you finally appeared here, but the guy you need isn't here. Then met her downtown, buying something but won't say what. Can't take my jeans to tighten them, she's sewing curtains for the disco on kinta. She mocks me about my hair. From all the seniors, only G. from IV3 and me are screwed. Never mind the hair, it'll grow, it's about the dancing over me, the what's the bragging, what's the noise, you didn't need to do that, we get such as you sooner or later. (my english is short here, this is too mild, picture victorious dancing over a dead enemy)
The Samson myth comes to mind, there's something in it. The head is too light, the inside is too heavy. She managed to make me feel better, still not the normal me.
On wednesday a serious fuckup on me. I was managing about that session in the morning, took another guy (member of presidency, I'd say) with me, to komitet. Didn't help, they say to the president of the municipal "here's your president of from the First, if you didn't know him". That on the account of the two of their sittings which I didn't attend, having received invitations on time, which they generally don't believe. But it's all okay in the end, settled.
Downtown I meet Kid and Slavko (who is nuts), chat with them. Went with Kid to Trpeza to share a coke on the rocks. Dragged myself home.
And then the session, the bus ran away by five meters, Zvojko and Ž can't give me a ride, they are taking the car to Remont for a quick fix, barely made it on time, fast walk. The president of the municipal is smiling worriedly, the PA is dying, Gavra is fixing it. Hazim tells me we have enough folks. There are no professors, my secretary thought I'd invite them, I thought he would. I make a proecdural error, distributing the ballots before the time. I read the report but nobody listens, they fill the ballots, even though the instruction on them is wrong, and I can't correct that before I finish the report. The confusion is complete, I'm sweating, everything's falling apart. The crowd leaves without discussion, someone from The komitet comes (one of the twins, who'll play a minor part on 21-XI-1979.) and asks the president of the municipal how was it, and this one says "don't ask, worse than in the brewery". And then they explain to me where I fucked up and I accept that and I have had enough of this. I keep my cool but this whole parade shortened my life by a few hours.
Calming in the school somehow. After the classes the biologian shows me to Marko Bozon how nice I look after the haircut.
- please, professor, don't, ever since elementary I had enough of being shown around like a doll on a fair
- nobody's showing you around, you look like a student now
- ah, leave that, I cut my hair because I had to and I've had enough already
- now you can serve as an example
- exactly what I had enough of, for seven years I'm pushed as an example
So I finished my political carreer for the next decade. Actually, easier now. Don't know whether this fucked up my future chances, maybe it's for the better.
Thursday passed painlessly. Night drive, better than day drive yesterday, when I almost made a fender bender (which would be the responsibility of the instructor).
On friday a party meeting. Plotting over my head, director asked how was the electoral session and who was guarding it (!). There they talked about how it was and added a few bits that weren't. One from fourth two said she couldn't understand me before either. ŽGLJ had a lot to say against me (and funnily I still haven't been questioned on chemistry). Those from my class defended me. School secretary said "what kind of youth president wears sideburns". She commented later "would he mind an obese one, then?". And again, ŽGLJ says "director tells him several times to do something and he does nothing" - actually ŽGLJ sicced director to sic Marko Bozon on me to send me to a haircut. And it's already "several times" by now.
While that lasted, I was in DC-99, we packed movies for Sombor festival. Since she is unofficially a member now, I'll smuggle her somehow, so we'll finally manage a night somewhere, if not completely alone, but at least far enough from home.
On 29th, saturday, the last driving lesson, concentration gone dead, all goes wrong. The session and haircut and everything fucked me up. And she goes to Novi on monday, studies start. I had sent the eggs photo to Bruno as a postcard, and he now replied "you didn't say which were the girls which so love my eggs". Made my day.
As I enter the school, on the stairs Zova says "it seems the conference will be repeated". Not that he cut me on the spot, no, not even. I enter the classroom, everyone has some bit of news to scare me better. I quickly go to get a new set of ballots, luckily I had them made in time. So now just wait.
And so, through this layer of uncertainty, the evening comes. There's a whole tribe of us who catch the 19:15 to šećerana, to go home, munch something on foot and run back to the city. Except the 19:45 tobacco [factory] bus didn't even come. Scrounged a chewie from some guy, I have some wound in my cheek by the wisdom teeth on the left, it's rotting and stinks. Falling apart inside. Awful, I stink to myself. To differ from the case in 1969, when I had aftoza (aphtosis, I guess) and Cikajlo the pharmacist concocted something purple to smear on my gums, this time I did nothing, didn't report the problem nor tried any treatment, just brushed my teeth more often. In both cases the problem lasted a week and was then gone.
She already had the tickets and was waiting for me. Without her, this would have been a nervous breakdown to remember. But she was there and it was marvelous. Didn't feel like dancing but she made me. Then we dragged while I escorted her. Took off a bit earlier, when she ran out of cigarettes. She even came home on time. On the way back, hitched a ride from Kale. His driving is crazy.
On sunday crammed theory for the drivers'. Nowhere in the evening, she went to Novi.
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* it's still alive and still has only two sockets operational. In the bedroom in the old house.