Elamuslood

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In watermelon sugar 22. sept. 2012

Filed under: ajas ja ruumis — viinamarjad @ 21:06
Tags: , , ,

My name

I guess you are kind of curious as to who I am, but I am one of those who do not have a regular name. My name depends on you. Just call me whatever is in your mind.

If you are thinking about something that happened a long time ago: somebody asked you a question and you did not know the answer.

That is my name.

Perhaps it was raining very hard.

That is my name. 

Or somebody wanted you to do something. You did it. Then they told you what you did was wrong – ‘Sorry for the mistake,’ – and you had to do something else.

That is my name.

Perhaps it was a game that you played when you were a child or something that came idly into your mind when you were old and sitting in a chair near the window. 

That is my name.

Or you walked someplace. There were flowers all around.

That is my name.

Perhaps you stared into a river. There was somebody near you who loved you. They were about to touch you. You could feel this before it happened. Then it happened.

That is my name.

Or you heard someone calling from a great distance. Their voice was almost an echo.

That is my name.

Perhaps you were lying in bed, almost ready to go to sleep, and you laughed at something, a joke unto yourself, a good way to end the day.

That is my name.

Or you were eating something good and for a second forgot what you were eating, but still went on, knowing it was good.

That is my name.

Perhaps it was around midnight and the fire trolled like a bell inside the stove.

That is my name.

Or you felt bad when she said that thing to you. She could have told it to someone else: somebody who was more familiar with her problems.

That is my name.

Perhaps the trout swam in the pool but the river was only eight inches wide and the moon shone on iDEATH and the watermelon fields glowed out of proportion, dark and the moon seemed to rise from every plant.

That is my name.

And I wish Margaret would leave me alone.

Richard Brautigan “in Watermelon Sugar”

Teate seda tunnet, kui loete uuesti raamatut, mis kord teile meeldis? Ja mida leht edasi, seda rohkem saate aru, miks ta teid kunagi võlus. “Arbuusisuhkrus” on üks neid raamatuid, mida lugeda ja omaette naeratada. Utoopiline arbuusisuhkru maailm, mida tahaksid katsuda ja nuusutada ja võib-olla isegi keele vastu panna. Esmakordselt lugesin Brautigani eesti keeles. Ei tulnud isegi mõttesse kätte võtta inglise keelne variant. Nüüd ometigi seda tegin ja sain aru, kui palju parem on tekste lugeda nende orginaalkeeles. Kõik see sõnamaagia on palju tugevam. Mõjutab ja raputab sind rohkem.

 

Geeniused 23. veebr. 2010

Mind on viimased päevad vaevanud mõte, et miks paljud mu lemmikud geeniused oma elu varakult lõpetanud on. Mu lemmik disainer Alexander McQueen. Joy Divisioni vokalist Ian Curtis. “Arbuusisuhkrus” autor Richard Brautigan. Muusika tunnis hakkas uuesti painama. Teemaks oli Robert Schumann, kes üritas enesetappu sooritada jääkülma Rein’i jõkke hüpates. Ta suri küll hiljem vaimuhaigena (selles ma ei ole kindel kuidas täpsemalt), kuid siiski. Suitsiidilembelised geeniused oma teoste ja töödega kummitavad mind juba viimased kaks nädalat. Veider. Eriti arvestades fakti, et ma ise suitsiidi ei usu. Minu arust on see alla andmine. Argpükslikkus.

Polnud just kõige positiivsem algus uuele blogile, aga nagu öeldakse: mis meelel, see keelel.