|
Climbing You I want to understand the steep thing that climbs ladders in your throat. I can't make sense of you. Everywhere I look you're there-- I climb into your eyes, looking. The pupils are black painted stage flats. They can be pulled down like window shades. I switch on a light in your iris. Your brain ticks like a bomb. I climb into your eyes, looking. The pupils are black painted stage flats. They can be pulled down like window shades. I switch on a light in your iris. Your brain ticks like a bomb. Oh there's nothing like love between us. You're the mountain, I am climbing you. If I fall, you won't be all to blame, but you'll wait years maybe for the next doomed expedition. Erica Jong |
kako spasiti vlastiti zivot
|
jos uvijek pokusavam nauciti...da li mi ide, da li ga spasavam upornom surovom autodestrukcijom? hmm, kad se volim i mrzim. eto jos jedna neprospavana noc (uspjela odspavati izmedju 2-4), kad sam u cetiri ujutro napokon shvatila da nista od prevrtanja u krevetu, krenula sam piti ostatke vina od jucer, nije bilo dovoljno da me uspava, cak ni temazepami vise ne djeluju. a kako da se spasim, kad su mi volja i nada skoro pa nestale. iako pesimisticna, puno se smijem, i kad mi je najgore, uvijek se smijem, ne mogu si pomoci, sve mi je smjesno koliko i tragicno, sama sebi, moja konstantna patetika i zelja za nekim drugim zivotom, ne u ovom usranom gradu, u koji sam pobjegla iz jos usranijeg zagreba. bar mi se tako cinilo, tih davnih dana kad sam jos bila tinejdzerka i pobjegla u obecavajuci bijeli svijet. koji mi nije donio nista osim padanja u najdublje ponore egzistencije, zivota na ulici, stranac medju strancima, borba za koru kruha, bukvalno. i bilo je zabavno i bilo je puno nevjerovatnih ljudi i dogadjaja, ali sad vise nemam snage za prezivljavanje, nekomformista koji je zeljan malo komfora. i sad mi zagreb sve cesce dolazi u misli, i cini mi se tako lijep, cini mi se da sam tamo ipak bila sretna usprkos usranoj politici i malogradjanskim ogovaranjima...a mozda su to samo sjecanja na tinejdzerske lijepe bezbrizne dane, iako mi se onda nisu cinili tako bezbrizni. bah
|
'Alcohol has strange effect on-me:wide-eyed insomnia.The feeling that my heart will fly out of my chest on its own wings. My mouth felt like the inside of a sand trap, my headache was monumental, and I realized that, short of three Valiums (which I didn't have), I was doomed to consciousness for the duration of the night. I revolved in the bed like a chicken on a spit, hoping to discover one more side to my torso than the mere four I'd already tried to span the abyss with. My back seemed camel-humped. My right side teetered over the edge of the hideous chartreuse-carpeted chasm between the two hotel beds. My left side was suddenly riddled with cramps, pins and needles, ancient aches. My beloved belly, usually so comfortable for sleeping on sleepless nights, also betrayed me. It sank down into the too-soft mattress as into quick-sand, and it seemed that my mouth and nose would soon follow and asphyxiation would set in. I rolled over on my back once more, studied the ceiling, reached down to fondle my breasts, felt for lumps, thought - or did I imagine it? - that I found one, was perversely glad to have a real worry to occupy me, then reached lower down to fondle my cunt. I began to masturbate again desultorily, but quickly lost interest. Nothing so mundane would tranquilize me on this particular night. Black winged presences were already gathering in the clammy air-conditioned hum of the hotel-room torture chamber.' Erica Jong |
