17-XI-2025.
Went for acquisitions in the morning - at Najka's in detelina for hen fodder and cigarette paper (though the one she peddles nowadays is the same shit as the one from the kiosk, the paper ash flies around and the paper around the filter smolders easily but is hard to put out, the smoldering filter often stinks out of the cinderella); at Mrkšić two pljeske to crumble their meat on the pizza, two kilos of minced (will be needed for various stuff these days) and žužu (prob'ly joujou) pogačice. That student of mine remembered to ask me about my year of birth, said hers is sixtyeight... which means that that episode with the butchers' class in 13. was most likely fall of 1984, maybe 1985. Eventually swung by Persu to get beer (five black nikiščko, five zaječarac), because while the kiosk has a better assortment, the parking is fucked up, didn't want to push [my] luck.
Of the preparations for the frendz parti she did everything on her own, my part was to replenish the rakija, not to put a not-quite-full bottle on the table, and then I managed to screw that up, picked the wrong cask so instead of pear I poured cherry. There we decided this should be one of those frenchie terms, now was it the baricature or coupage (which is cured by decoupage). I found a whole dictionary on the wikipedia, where half of the terms describe various tricks to fix what went wrong. Including these two - barrique is wine sitting in oak barrels, „so certain components of taste from the wood would pass into wine“ (and not one uncertain component, the oak knows which are which). About the coupage it's even worse, „theoretically little good wine is mixed with lots of bad, to get lots of good wine; in practice whatever was good is lost without a trace“. Well, at least I had a good introductory story, why would a good fuckup go to waste, may it be at my own expense.
The thus concocted rakija went just fine, Borče blew the first shot by the time I was by half of mine, said „why do you always pour me less“, „well you sit the farthest so I pour you first, so I practice on you...“. Eventually he blew four shots (that's 0,16 l, let's be clear), I three, the ladies about two or a little more, there were refills before the shots were empty.
The quip brought by Stanley last night, „your ass must envy your mouth on the shit it produces“ was well received (and on burundi too, with „ouch, cruel!“). Very little on politics, except Dragana threw in the towel, „just fuck Vučić, I'll buy that liter of wine“ (because she bet against Borče last time that Vučić will win). The ovulations were mentioned, which is an old joke by the Indeks crowd, „spontaneous ovulations“, which were now revived in the appearance of some lady reporter who confirmed that ćacad* from Kosovo were getting them along their alleged walk, and vazduplohov* and how it became a meme worm, whenever we find a vazduhoplov in a text, we check in our heads which one is right. Just like when granma said žedulac instead of želudac (stomach), when she'd do a whole chicken on a sunday and the stomach from the boiled (for the soup) was mine, and the liver, fried in the smallest pot, was my breakfast, so eventually she didn't know which one was right.
We took longer to reminisce on who was in which division in the elementary, who was in VIII2, who in VIII3, even VIII1 was mentioned, and each one of us had a couple of names wrong, remembering them in wrong divisions. I mostly didn't blunder about the more prominent faces, but completely forgot Joca Turšija (pickle), because I thought he was at least two years younger... The kid seemed to have some hormonal problems and really looked somewhat sour, of waxy pale complexion and no taller than anyone else's ears.
The pizza was a smashing success, I think they never saw such, let alone ate one. Borče ate three slices, two of the first and one of the second. The homemade sauce/ketchup was specially praised, we opened a larger jar this time, well it was all homemade except the topping. And the olives, myself don't remember ever seeing them so large, guess we were lucky at Mere. The kačkavalj (caccio cavale, horse cheese) wasn't marked with a red triangle (one thing this government did right, to mark fake cheeses et all as not cheeses, must not use the word if the milk fat was removed and replaced by plant oils, they are „product of...“, which was printed even before but in very small font on the label) still has some weird tang, but it occurs only when it's heated in thicker layers and still evaporating. On a pizza it's not felt at all.
This time there were no „rose petals of heat“ on the pizza (reminder of the age old detergent advertisement, which touted „azure grains of whiteness“, hello), it was the sauce which was hot, but we're all so calibrated to hot peppers, that nobody mentioned it - no excess, no lack.
The special of the evening was, in the end, the lazy pies with apples, into which she minced some dried apricots, as a bit of entertainment for the teeth. We didn't drink wine, because... wine is italian beverage number 1, tradition fuckit, and pizza is an italian dish, therefore we drank beer. Even Dragana, who drinks about two beers a year, has one with the pizza, but then she got sleepy, which is probably why she avoids beer. She snapped out of it as soon as I got out the shooter to memorize her head falling. And she said she gained weight, 52 kg now. I took a look at exactly the spot, and sure enough, the fat is overhanging her belt by almost a centimeter, chubby, chubby... There we went on various techniques we use to control weight and sagging, and there Borče said he's got a pair of 6kg barbells, while I do at least three or four evenings when I don the 1,5 kg cuffs on each wrist, what we bought in Lidl some years ago for the older grandchildren. There Dragana complained how she moves very little and sleeps a lot, the leg is fucking her, she had the habit of buzzing around and always being on the move, so I strapped the lighter pair, of 1kg each, on her wrists. And what do you do with that? Nothing, just keep them and do whatever you're already doing as if you didn't have them, do so 15-20 minutes a day and you're done. Helps me, back doesn't hurt. I offered them, don't need them, have the other pair, you can strap them to your ankles, wanna take them? Nope, thanks.
They again phantasized about a trip to Tikveš, nothing new there. Dragana was still sleepy, nobody went for the second beer (except Borče), so the foot was out to go as soon as midnight, but of course it took it course, the „let's go“ is exactly the signal to begin a more lively conversation, of which I, as usual, remember nothing, specially not who said what. Around one we were already alone and poured one shot of that coupage of ours... though it's not true to the definition, this is not little good and lots of bad, this is all good. Amazingly, two deci of cherry cover the pear completely. We tried it again on wensday evening, and yes, it does.
Go it going well with Baxter... um, it is weird, because I don't know the length of the next titile. There's some sixty files, and there's lots of various bits - some chronology, some excerpts from this or that, some stories, novelettes, whole novels. The advantage of this package is that it goes chronologoically, not by order of publishing. I don't know what I expected except to be surprised, and it worked. Looks like this will be a very strange and complete universe.
On wensday I finally hung Violet's bike as well. Now I made the hook in just two minutes, much easier because I now had the piece of pipe, left over from somewhere, guess the unneeded piece from the heating, must have led to the first gas boiler, so I inserted the rebar into the pipe to hold it while I bend it. Maybe I could have done this more elegantly, but at least this was fast and exactly what was needed. Now for Linda's bike next. And a photo arrived from Nina, with her sitting and reading, „she's reading this book the second time“. I think it's comics, but probably a maanga, which usually means some quality, a more complex story and consistent drawings.
On sunday, 23rd, we had a whole plan, where to thread through the New Belgrade, because there was a semimarathon there, and of course our regular path would intersect with its in some points. And I even remembered to to take an earlier exit from the highway, but didn't see the turn to take, just the bus stop, and so whizzed straight and drove on to our regular exit at Arena. On Đinđić's boulevard we discovered a fullblown Ćacilend - big white tents and lined up toitois, what with the movable fences, and it seemed as if they're still putting them in place. Actually they were packing them away, the official end of the event was fifteen minutes later. The parking turned a bit screwy, all of my slots were taken, the two places where I could have parked parallel were a tad to small or the Joda too big, fuckit, so we drove quarter block around and found a slot across from Hyatt. Not even too far, but I got winded well, carrying a tote with 90 eggs, which should be about six kilos. It's already a year since I noticed how difficult it's for me to carry a tote, gimme a backpack, I can carry twice as much in it without noticing. She carried it the last 50 meters, eh youth.
Tanja was already awake and in good mood. She was amazed with the owl, Owlie (as the twins call it). This sock puppet entertains sixth grandchild now, it was originally Neša's favorite toy, then took turns. It's a whole portable theatre. We showed it to her on tuesday during a video call, when I had to add some light (using the bicycle light, because the chandelier is at a bad angle and face is obscured) and she liked it.
The lunch was combined, Lena cooked a soup (no noodles, just eggs, but then she simmered it the day before for some six hours; a karafindl was missing in the first three seconds and then not) and made cucumber salad and yam fries, and we brought two oven fried turkey thighs (more than a kilo each), the fermented salad (cabbage, onion, carrot, cauliflower, salt). Tanja was so-so, moderately hungry, and she's trained to lose the habit, which she kept last couple of months, of taking food into [her] hand and then dropping it for Api to pick. We didn't go long for the walk, no circumambulation of the block in the end, no second cigarette; chilly breeze blew and my hair is now only letting in rain, it's drafty too, had to pull up the hood, as if I was, forgive the expression, some ćaci. After the experience on that monday, when I tried to wear socks and then whatever was in them hurt like hell, too tight on my veins, today I wore just clogs despite it being only +3 outside. And my fingers weren't chilled, not the rear**, but the fore did. When we got back, I tried to nap a cat, but it didn't work, got restless leg, a bit in the right foot and calf, and a bit on both thighs in sync, just like it did last night.
Milan remodeled his room into a sound studio, covered most walls with the relieved (well, with relief, right?) sponge and not the egg cartons, like they did on the radio eighty years ago. We tried the sound out, the echo is almost none, there's maybe a bit between the window and door. Extra score on the sponge wall being a good background for his face at office conferences (despite being graphite mouseshit gray). He came up with an ingenious trick - his synthesizer being below desk, to play the South Park „eerie atmosphere jingle“, when someone says something and there's a few seconds lull coming. Barely anyone will be aware of it, but the conditioning should kick in and there'll be an expectant atmosphere. Whoever notices, has noticed.
When we came back from the walk, Tanja got an appetite, ate two bananas (!). Fckit, one is more than enough to me... She learned how to don the knitted skullcap (but not how to pull the owl on [her] hand). When she did that, we were under the bar, aka dining table. I told her to look herself in the mirror, and she took a look to the table, and ah, a snafu, the mirror is a meter to the right... She understands most of what's said, but pronounces perhaps a dozen words, says tata clearly, mama more as if Brbana would say it, and say's „ajde“ (c'mon, let's). And about the banana, she found among her books the picture book with fruits, leafed until she saw the banana, pointed it with [her] finger, baba reads „banana“. She pointed again, baba read again. Then she pointed to the kitchen... aha, you want a banana.
In Mere we didn't buy too much, just 7000, we have enough of everything from two weeks ago. While I processed the photos (only three shots between monday morning and now, and that of dough growing), the rest are seventy of today, I became sleepy all of a sudden. To differ from yesterday's four hour long nap, fckit the day just vanished as if it never was, only 15 minutes this time, just right. Around 21 Nina called, cooking show, made pancakes. She made a plan on how to get her yards in order, which ginko would go where. The cherries she replanted from Klincaid did take root but didn't grow much, and in ten years bore one (!) fruit. Seems they don't like the soil. She attended a few dates these weeks, yesterday the second time with some guy who's almost ten years younger, divorced, has twin kids. The first time it was just a coffee and they talked for two hours. Okay... And yes, the video where Sanda and Linda dance, that's their own project. The ballet may be centuries old, and so far nobody else came up with a dance move with getting down on all fours, then lifting one rear up an imagined tree, doggie style. And yes, that was supposed to be related to dogs, they cooked up a whole story, she just couldn't remember the details.
Tthe with Go and Stanley until 0:40, of course about her new video first, „how to threedyprint a mold for soap“, what with complete walk through the process, and then about garden, habanero, dough, bread, how Amazon keeps sending her whatever she chooses from the offered goods, just to try them out and write an honest critique. She mostly finds good things to say about them, though there's also stuff like some add-on which was supposed to replenish the magnesium in [your? they don't know who you are.] body, says on the label that it „contains 5% of daily needs, which is a few milligrams, which means you need to take twenty of those and with them intake an unknown quantity of who knows what fillers, whatever they may use, and the magnesium in it is in some compound which they copyrighted and you actually don't know what it is“. They still aren't paying her, but just getting free stuff is enough for now.
Stanley shared a couple of interesting stories - the guy who bought the 12000$ car, died the next day, just like that. Wasn't sick in any way, wasn't vaccinated, nothing, just died. And his pal Zigi (Zsigmond, another romanian Hungarian) says he solved his problem, he's getting, his health insurance footing the bill, two meds, one to concentrate and another to calm down, to avert fits of anxiety and panic. Translated to clear, the first one is a metamphetamine, the other an opiate. And sure enough, it does help you concentrate, he tried it once when he was working on that house to sell, and it concentrates the fuck out of you, then you're a wreck for two days when you come down, thank you very much. And then you just ask yourself is there anyone sane left there.
Chaos outside. Trump nudging Zelenski, Russians keep mum and wait, guess they'll be done with it once. The cuntmouth (eh, the phrase is out of fashion but he's still the same) is having another fit of madness, the refinery in Pančevo is stopping (they never rebuilt the one in Novi Sad after the bombing). Just in case I refilled Joda all the way up, though I fucked up, first I poured the hundredoctane gasoline, a tensome liters, then saw the fuckup and stopped, paid that, topped it with fortysome liters of diesel... The pump guy said it's no big deal, the truckers make exactly that kind of mix for the winter, so the fuel doesn't congeal, so they don't have to heat up the engines to get them to start. And the van is also full. And how did this happen? Well they have four hoses on each side, and it's usually two diesels two gasolines, but this time I didn't get a free slot somewhere among the first four as I usually do, the only free slot, liberated just as I was arriving, was at the sixth, where it's two and two. All slots taken, people are stockpiling the čorba, just in case.
A news: Tanja's first day in kindergarten, probably a short while, just to get to know the place. Lena and the current nanny took her, the latter even shed a tear (my comment: „you blink an eye and they've grown and gone away...“). „The teacher said she cried only once, when she couldn't reach for a toy. She stays a whole hour the next day“.
And we saw them the next day. Her vocabulary expanded a bit, a few words more, of which one with a somewhat complicated string of consonants (ah, remembered it now: ključ, a key). She dives into the washer regularly and her sleeves get wet. Wants to don the boots to go out, even though it's already near sleeping time. Or exactly that is the plan, so she has a reason to snivel a little, which is a part of her routine before hitting the hay.
I was sleepy too, and I did evade the afternoon nap somehow, faked it for half an hour, neither here nor there. So I had another one around half eight, and saw that it won't be just like that. So I undressed and went to bed. Woke up at some time, knowing that she came to bed a while ago, saw her there, the room isn't completely dark, the november sky is never black, and there's some light from the poles on the street, not on our pole but those left and right. Went to the toilet, saw it was almost midnight. Eh, I hoped it'd be at least half four... Lied down until one, saw that I won't sleep, so I washed [my] face, made coffee, then took it slowly. Went on adding downloaded music - each album's levels need to be normalized (which is called mrz gain, though I don't see the profit in it), then add it to the mrz, then fix the titles - where šđć is missing or where The Letters Underwent Capital Investment, or where the year is of the issue and not of the recording. Made my pick of the evening news, selected what to read aloud when she wakes up. Composed two sandwiches, fresh bread, this time baked a bit lighter, still has proper crust but not so crunchy, and inside, as it's said here, soft as a soul. Slowly now...
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* the plural of ćaci (the word is originally plural per se) should be ćaciji, but the popular form is now 'ćacad', which usually applies to the young of domestic animals - jare (kid) - jarad, jagnje (lamb, from angus) - jagnjad, ždrebe (colt) - ždrebad. Vazduhoplov is air vehicle - vazduh=air, ploviti - to float, to sail; likewise - vremeplov (vreme=time) is a time machine. The 'vazduplohov' was blurted by a SNS MP.
** we don't have separate word for toes, they're leggy fingers
Mentions: 13. april, Api, burundi, čorba, detelina, Dragana Vitas (Dragana), frendz parti, Gorana Sredljević (Go), homemade, Jelena Sredljević (Lena), Joda, karafindl, Klincaid, Linda Sredljevich Aquilla (Linda), Mališa Borkovski (Borče), Milan Nastić, mrz pladžer, Nenad Berger (Neša), Nevena Sredljević (Nina), Novi Sad, pljeska, pogačice, rakija, Sanda Sredljević Aquilla (Sanda), Stanley Berger, Tanja Nastić, VIII1, VIII2, VIII3, Violet, in serbian
18-XI-2025 - 25-III-2026