Noć Slomljenih Strela: "Mister G." | The Night Of Broken Arrows. "Mister G." | A book Of Short Stories / Zbirka Kratkih Priča / Un Livre D'histoires Courtes - night life - drama
Noć Slomljenih Strela:
"Mister G."
Mister G. je tog kasnog popodneva sa velikom mukom otvorio oči.
Kako je strašno probuditi se tako teško mamuran na sumrak dana.
Još je mnogo teže probuditi se sam.
Mister G. je imao 35 a izgledao je kao da ima 45 godina. Dovoljno je reći da dvadeset godina ovaj čovek sebe bombarduje svim raspoloživim sredstvima . U pitanju je zloupotreba : lepka , bronze , marihuane, hašiša , artana , bensedina , metotena ,heroina, trodona , valijuma , LSD – a , kokaina i svaka vrsta alkohola. Dalje nabrajanje raznoraznih farmaceutskih proizvoda ili biljaka bilo bi suvišno.
U svakom slučaju strašno teško je padalo svako buđenje Mister G-iu.
Tog jutra prvo što je uradio je brz pokret rukom koju je zavukao u džep od pantalona , morao je da proveri da li su tu četiri ’ eksa ’ koje je sačuvao za buđenje. Tablete je popio bez vode i tada se setio da ima još tableta u kutijici i to tu negde u krevetu.
Prevrćući po posteljini I trazeci kutiju bensedina on opazi tragove zgrušane krvi, namršti se ne prekidajući da prevrće oko sebe, uz to zakači I teglu sa opušcima I prosu je u krevet. Pakleno besan u očajanju on pljunu u sopstveni krvet. Nekako je uspeo da pronađe preostalu tablu. Ponovo bez vode on sasu u sebe pet komada od po deset miligrama . Ubrzo malo smireniji, pobaca svu posteljinu na pod I u sedećem položaju stade čekati da naleti prvi “ talasić ”. Kada je to dočekao poče razmisljati gde bi mogao da krene . Tada shvati da ne zna odakle je sinoć došao, to mu se kao I obično nije svidelo.
Morao bi da izađe , to svakako , iz te “ jazbine ” , kako je nazivo mali ruinirani stan . Odatle se podrazumevalo neumorno bežanje a kasnije prinudno vraćanje u polu – komatoznom stanju na košmarno spavanje. Teško može da se zamisli ponor kojim je ovaj čovek kao kamen padao. Već poznata priča , ista ta koja izaziva kod ljudi bes I u isti mah interesovanje , sažaljenje I u isto vreme najstrašniji sud.
Na sumrak Mister G. je sedeo na palubi malog brodića. Pio je pivo , drugo za nepunih pola – sata.
Napolju je da izuzmemo Mister G –a kao prizor , bilo veoma prijatno, mirna voda , poslednji odsjaji Sunca , miris nadoilazeće svežine.
Mister G. je imao sagovornika , starog alasa , alkoholičara koji je kusao svoju ko zna koju po redu čorbu za taj dan. Alas je pitao Mister G –a. o planovima za budućnost . Mister G. je pogledao u reku i namrštio se , nije odgovorio.
Raspoloženje se zahuktalo, posle piva G. je počeo da se “šminka” vinjakom.
Priču koju su vodila ova dva užasna čoveka rasturi krik, očajnicki poziv za pomoć.
Mister G. je video u vodi dva mladića , jedan je već tonuo dok je drugi urlikao i pokušavao da ga izvuče.
Već podosta “ohrabren” G. bez razmišljanja skoči u vodu i nezgrapno poče plivati ka davljenicima. Ispostavilo se da razdaljina nije mala i G. se već posle nekoliko zamaha umorio ali je ipak plivao dalje. Mladić koji je tonuo se skoro nije ni video , dok je njegov prijatelj pokušavao da nešto učini sve vreme urlajući i tako gubeći snagu. Dok je Mister G. mislio da se približava reka je nosila mladiće sve više gušeći i poslednju nadu.
Na strahotu nekolicine prisutnih na obali i zaprepašcenje Mister G –a momci odjednom nestadoše.
“Pakao na vodi “ , pomisli nekako bezbrižno Mister G. , vracajući se na obalu. Čim je izašao okrepio se sa par vinjaka. Obasjan suncem, žmireći na jedno oko, on vide mladića sa susednog splava koji mu se približava. Mladic mu je bio poznat, on se sa poštovanjem pozdravio I predlozio mu “šetnju”.
Mladić je pušio heroin I sada je pozvao Mister G. da ga počasti.
Kada se vraćao iz “šetnje” Mister G. je “blažen” razmišljao po ko zna koji put o tome kako tako lako svaki put slučaj nanese nekog…
Na utopljenike više nije ni mislio. Policiji koja je stigla dao je lične podatke, izjavio je šta je imao , popio piće i otisnuo se ka centru grada.
“Kako dobra noć” , razmišljao je ,” koliko je ljudi večeras napolju , ima devojaka , ima lepih lica , ima I inteligentnih lica , stvarno dobro , dobro je I da sam se osušio , dobro je I da nije toliko vruće”. Jedino što mu svako veče nije prijalo , ali morao je to da “prevazidje” je noćno žickanje.
Svaku noć je morao da skupi za minimalnu zalihu za sutra, bez toga se nije vraćao, bez sigurne zalihe nije smeo da spava.
Večeras je rešio da se “nacrta” ispred dosta velikog kluba gde dugo nije stajao. Brzo je skupio za sutrašnju “jutarnju toaletu”. “Ne mora da bude kao danas ali dovoljno je…” , zaključio je mirno.
Noć se zahuktavala , G. je sa ludačkim osmehom koračao ulicama razgledajući šta se dešava. Dosta ljudi , letnja noć , zvezde, raznobojni automobili , raznorazna muzika , ulična svetla , semafori , zelene površine kao tihe oazice , glasovi , mnoštvo glasova , kao jedan veliki jasan govor nekog ko se obraća samo njemu , govori mu bez prekida diže ga iznad grada , spušta ga do usamljenog cveta , raspoznaje svaku senku , daje mu praskavo iskustvo svemoguće brzine , okreće ga kao aerodinamična kapsula , posle toga ga tiho spušta I iznova šapuće zvucima , bojama ,strujanjem vazduha, tako mu daje da se dobro oseća da nijedna situacija sem te nije poželjna. To u većini slučajeva tako I biva , obično je takvo stanje samo sebi dovoljno kao potpuna katastrofa i paradoksalno kao vrtoglavi užas koji u potpunoj laži daje privid blaženstva.
G. se nije umorio , sedeo je na kamenim blokovima starim na hiljade godina I gledao na velik park ispred sebe. Smejao se sam sa sobom, smejao se glasno , ni sam ne znajući čemu.
“Ej stari , tebi je baš dobro a ? “
G. je dobio društvo, dva momka I jedna devojka seli su pored njega I uz pomoc vina koje je kružilo upustiše se u delirični razgovor . Smeh se svaki čas pretvarao u jezivo cerekanje. I sama tvrdjava pobegla bi ispod njih da je to mogla.
Najedared poče duvati poprilicno jak vetar , G. je uživao , vetar mu je tako prijao da on otkopča košulju I u stanju potpune razularenosti poče sebe maziti I trljati po grudima. Oblizivao se jezikom I tražio deci da donesu još vina.
“ Matori ti si potpuni fleš” , prokomentarisala je devojka.
G. se otvorio :
“ Ja sam vatra , ja sam voda , ja sam vetar koji hoda ,
ja sam pustoš tvoga doma , ja sam krik tvog nervnog sloma ,
ja sam drum kojim tvoja bosa noga hoda , ja sam poslednja noć tvog mladog doba ,
ja sam vatra ja sam voda , ja sam vetar koji hoda… “
Smeh , ludački smeh . Momci su se valjali I čupali travu izmedju kamenja I njome posipali
Mister G. – a.
Vetar je pred jutro udarao dosta jako. G. se ipak dosta raspričao.
“ Tamo gde sam na sumrak bio , tamo gde sam besomućno pio tamo ste se utopili vi mali stvorovi , prividjenja , utvare , splinovi ste , pokajte se da ne nestanete u ognju paklenome.”
Strašno uzbudjenje kod mladih ljudi.
“ Lud , lud , matori je potpuno lud , eto vidiš ima još po neko…”
Sunce je izašlo , G. ga sa osmehom dočeka , sam . Vreme je bilo da ide .
Sutradan negde oko dvanaest G. se probudi ,nasilno .
Pored njega živeo je Mister H. koji je I danas krvavo psovao I tresao čitavu zgrad. Uobičajeno, nameštaj se pretvarao u krš , deca su vrištala , deca su krvarila , žena je odavno poludela I ona je vrištala.
G. je ležao I u sebi psovao komšiju. Oči su mu se I pored velike buke sklapale.
Čuo je pre nego što je zaspao :
“ …da, krvavu vam majku jebem, zapaliću… imate da cvrčite , kao …”
G. se nalazio u svom komatoznom snu kada mu je stan bio vec pun dima I vatra liznula kroz vrata.
Poslednje što bi detaljnije opisao G. da je ostao živ je plamen na njegovom telu.
Ruke u plamenu. Noge u plamenu . Kosa u plamenu . Lice u plamenu. Oči u plamenu.
Mr. G
Mr. G. opened his eyes with great difficulty that late afternoon.
How awful it is to wake up so hard hungover at dusk.
It is even harder to wake up alone.
Mr. G. was 35 and looked like he was 45 years old. Suffice it to say that for twenty years this man has been bombarding himself with all available means. It is about abuse: glue, bronze, artane, benzedrine, methadone, heroin, crack, valium, LSD, cocaine, and all kinds of alcohol. Further enumeration of various pharmaceutical products or plants would be superfluous.
In any case, every awakening of Mr. G was terribly difficult.
That morning, the first thing he did was make a quick movement with his hand, which he put in his pants pocket, he had to check if there were four "nails" that he had saved for waking up. He drank the pills without water, and then he remembered that there were more pills in the box, somewhere in bed.
Rolling over the sheets and looking for a box of valium, he noticed traces of clotted blood and frowned without stopping to roll around in bed. So he spilled a jar full of cigarette butts into bed. Hellishly furious in despair, he spat into his own bed. Somehow he managed to find the remaining pills. Again without water, he sucked in five pieces of ten milligrams each. Soon, a little calmer, he threw all the bedding on the floor and in a sitting position began to wait for the first "wave" to hit. When he realized that, he started thinking about where he could go. Then he realized that he didn't know where he came from last night, he didn't like it, but it has been happening to him more and more lately.
He would have to get out, of course, out of that "lair", as he called the small ruined apartment. From there, it meant tireless escape and later forced return to a nightmare in a semi-comatose state. It is difficult to imagine the abyss through which this man fell like a stone. An already known story, the same one that provokes anger in people and at the same time interest, pity, and at the same time the most terrible judgment.
At dusk, Mr. G. was sitting on the deck of a small boat. He drank beer until three in less than half an hour.
It is outside to exclude Mister G as a scene, it was very pleasant, calm water, the last reflections of the Sun, the smell of the coming freshness.
Mr. G. had an interlocutor, an old alas, an alcoholic who tasted his who knows which soup for the day. Alas asked Mr. G. about plans for the future. Mr. G. looked at the river and frowned, not answering.
The mood heated up, after the beer G. started to "lick" with brandy.
The story told by these two horrible men is shattered by a scream, a desperate call for help.
Mr. G. saw two young men in the water, one already drowning while the other was screaming and trying to get him out.
Already quite "encouraged" G. without thinking jumped into the water and awkwardly began to swim toward the drowning. It turned out that the distance was not small and G. got tired after a few swings but still swam on. The young man who was drowning was almost never seen, while his friend was trying to do something all the time, screaming and thus losing strength. As Mr. G. thought the approaching river carried the young men suffocating even the last hope.
To the horror of the few on the shore and the astonishment of Mr. G, the boys suddenly disappeared.
"Hell on the water," thought Mr. G., somewhat carefree, as he returned to shore. As soon as he came out, he fortified himself with a couple of brandies. Illuminated by the sun, squinting at one eye, he saw a young man from a nearby raft approaching him. The young man was known to him, he greeted him respectfully and suggested a "walk".
The young man smoked heroin And now he invited Mr. G. to honor him.
When he returned from the "walk", Mr. G. "blessed" thought for the umpteenth time about how so easily, every time, a case brings someone ...
He didn't even think about the drowned anymore. He gave personal data to the police who arrived, stated what he had, had a drink, and headed to the city center.
"How good night," he thought, "how many people are out tonight, there are girls, there are beautiful faces, there are intelligent faces, really good, it's good that I dried myself, it's good that it's not so hot." The only thing he didn't like every night, but he had to "overcome" it, was the night begging.
He had to gather every night for the minimum supply for tomorrow, without that he did not return, without a secure supply he was not allowed to sleep.
Tonight, he decided to "set up" in front of a rather large club where he had not stood for a long time. He quickly gathered for tomorrow's "morning toilet." "It doesn't have to be like today, but it's enough," he concluded calmly.
The night was heating up, and G. was walking the streets with a mad smile, watching what was happening. Lots of people, summer night, stars, colorful cars, various music, street lights, traffic lights, green areas like quiet oases, voices, many voices, like one big clear speech of someone who addresses only him, speak to him without interruption, raises him above the city, lowers it to a lonely flower. He enjoys and recognizes every shadow. He feels the electric experience of omnipotent speed. Like an aerodynamic capsule. Immediately after that, he lowers it quietly and whispers it again with sounds, colors, and the flow of air, so it makes him feel good, he doesn't need anything anymore. This is the case in most cases, usually, such a state is enough for itself as a complete catastrophe and paradoxically as a dizzying horror that gives the illusion of bliss in a complete lie.
Mr. did not get tired, he sat on stone blocks thousands of years old and looked at the large park in front of him. He laughed to himself, he laughed out loud, not even knowing why.
"Hey man, you're fine, huh?" “
G. got company, two boys and a girl sat next to him, and with the help of wine that was circulating, they started a delirious conversation. Every now and then the laughter turned into a creepy chuckle. The fortress itself would have escaped under them if it could.
Suddenly a rather strong wind began to blow, G. enjoyed it, the wind was so pleasing to him that he unbuttoned his shirt and in a state of complete madness began to caress himself and rub his chest. He licked his tongue and asked the children to bring more wine.
"Old man, you are a complete flash," the girl commented.
Mr. opened:
I am fire, I am water, I am the walking wind,
I am the desolation of your home, I am the cry of your nervous breakdown,
I'm the road your bare foot walks, I'm the last night of your youth,
I am fire I am water, I am the walking wind… “
Laughter, crazy laughter. The boys rolled and plucked the grass between the stones and sprinkled it on Mr. G...
The wind hit quite hard. It's dawn. Mr. talked a lot.
"Where I was at dusk, where I drank relentlessly, there you drowned, you little creatures, apparitions, ghosts, you are splinters, repent that you will not disappear in the fire of hell."
Terrible excitement in young people.
"Crazy, crazy, old man is completely crazy, you see there are others…"
The next day about twelve G. woke up, violently.
Next to him lived Mr. H. who even today cursed bloodily and shook the whole building. Usually, the furniture turned into rubble, the children screamed, the children bled, the woman went crazy a long time ago and she screamed.
G. was lying and cursing his neighbor. His eyes closed despite the loud noise.
He heard before he fell asleep:
"… Yes, fuck your bloody mother, I'll set fire to the apartment… you have to chirp, like…"
G. was in his comatose sleep when his apartment was already full of smoke and fire licked through the door.
The last thing that would describe G. in more detail if he stayed alive was the flames on his body.
Hands in flames. Legs on fire. Hair on fire. Face on fire. Eyes on fire.
EX EX - ENTER (Full Album)
Keywords: Noć Slomljenih Strela: "Mister G." The Night Of Broken Arrows. "Mister G." | A book Of Short Stories / Zbirka Kratkih Priča / Un Livre D'histoires Courtes - night life - drama EX EX - ENTER (Full Album)
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