AS I SUP MY FIRST MORNING COFFEE
Since I created MYSPACE profile, I had met many great and famous people. I would like to thank everybody who had become my friends. I would like to say hi to Rambo (Antonije Pusic, not Silvester), who was one of the first people who accepted my invitation, as well as Johny (Azra), Vasa, Cane, Aleksandra, Cile, Obama and everyone else who took part in my MYSPACE quest. There, I got soften, and I do that only when I am drunk or sincere. For your information I quit drinking twenty years ago.
Print on my first book "How I stayed single?" isn't even dry yet, and I could write a sequel right now. Since I don't have these ambitions I would like to tell you what hapened to me last few days in just a few words. Around half past noon, as I was pouring moving my hand temperately to spice my beans hotchpotch, that was coddling on 180 degrees, and sang a song that said "We used to eat very nice...", a telephone rang in the living room.
I answered the phone
inquisitively, hoping that somebody had missdialed my number, I heard a pleasing
"Hello, my name is Suzana, may I speak to Mr. Voja Radovanovic?"
"This is him" - I answered and continued - "I'm 43 yrs old, single, I like everything young people like. I also like Angelina Jolie, Pamela Anderson, Jenna Jameson. Some people say that I look like Rowan Atkinson (Mr. Bean)(it leaves special sensation on women).
Not even looking toward what I have to say, she countinued saying that she is from one political party (I don't want to say wich one, it doesn't even matter) and asked me if I had time for some kind of opinion poll.
"All right" - I said - "But it has to be a short one, I am cooking at the moment, I don't want to mess my dish."
And so she started asking me questions like: "What are you satisfied with? What don't you like? What do you think about this and that politician?" and something like that for next few minutes. I was trying to think of anything nice, but I couldn't, so I started talking about bad stuff. I told her about this guy and that guy (I don't wanna say names, somebody would be upset that I didn't mention him), and she just kept waiting for me to lose my voice. And so I lost my breath. Once I carelesly made a break, that gentle and soft voice (oh, voice can decieve) had whispered in my ear: "Would you tell me who did you vote for?" My knees felt like they were made of glass. I quickly brought a chair wich I fell on. I thought to myself that maybe from the other side of the line is some ugly old woman with that soft and tender voice... Can it be? And is it possible that the community three months after elections didn't find out who did I vote for? Iwas astonished by the amount of ignorance. In good old days, something like that should be known even before elections. 104% and 0% against and there you go. I mean, we have to be a mess when people have to ask you who did you choose to vote for. And what's all that guaranteed electing privacy for? Is that why I hid behind the curtain, from where I accidentally took a pen (my favourite memory I got from elections). "Sir", silent voice stopped my conversation to myself, "are you still on the phone?" "Well, yes I am", I answered, "I know what you said. I remember that I did vote, just I can't remember, who did I chose. But, don't vorry, I wrote it somewhere, I am know that. I wrote it in my notebook with important dates, or the book of regrets, that's where I notify Serbian politicians statements. So, if you could give me your phone number, I will make sure to find that information and share it with you. If it matters, you have a lovely voice" The line failed, I don't know why. And they say so many good stuff about our telephony. I didn't even get to ask her if we could meet that night. A few neighbours praised that she called them to. Who knows, maybe they're jelous and they want me to feel bad. And as Bogart said in "Casablanca": "This could be a start of a beautyfull friendship..."
15. april 2007.
Since I created my MYSPACE profile, I realized what does it mean to know English language. Since I know just a few words like London, Chelsea and Tony Blear, I can just guess what are people writing in letters I get from them. Believe it or not, I get most of my letters from all the kinds of women. What do they want from me? I can't tell, that's why I'm thinking… Next to the text, there's also their picture that says 10000 words (as Chinese concluded long time ago), but no matter what, I would like to know what is written in that letter.
I wanted to learn English long time ago, but something always stood in my way. I remember, as I if it was just yesterday, but it was almost twenty years ago, when I was much younger and hungry for adventure I used to travel around Europe. One day walking around the streets of Frankfurt (Germany), looking at street musicians, I saw some Japanese guy who was drawing portraits of people going by for money. Intrigued by his work, I wanted him to create the portrait of me. As soon as he spoke I knew we will be having trouble to understand each other. He asked me if I spoke English, which I answered him negatively. I told him that I speak German, which he unfortunately didn't speak. He then scratched his head (he didn't want to lose potential customer), and I scratched my elbow thinking how much am I going to pay him. Then I grabbed the last straw and remembered that I can speak Serbian, but he wasn't best with. But he said to himself that he speaks Japanese, which wasn't my favourite in highschool. I thought to myself: "Is it posible that we both know four languages and still we can't understand each other?". At the end we both started using the international language of sad and happy faces as well as hand and feet signs. That worked better for us. I remember what has my late father used to say (every time I'd say something like: "You worth as much as the number of languages you can speak): "For foreign lands, my son, all you need to know are two crucial words: YES and NO. All the other things you can show using your hands and fingers".
Somehow I realized that my portrait costs 50 DEM. Since I had only 5 DEM in my pocket, I suggested to him that I should make the picture of him in change of money. I also explained that I belong to this new wave in painting, closer to Picasso than Rembrant and that portrait painted by me doesn't necessarily have to look like my model. It depends of my current inspiration and if the face in the picture would have donkey ears (sometimes), third eye (maybe), or three fingers (with a bit if accent on the one in the middle wich represents fight of the people against all the kinds of tiranies).