Forgotten skills

Late in the evening, as the raindrops spread in the air leaving it wet and heavy, under the supervision of invisible, dark wind, I am heading to the tram station, and the moment resembles me of the afternoon a month ago, early, warm September, when I arrived. It is the sound of my boots, echoed from the modern-art roofing above the walkway and the presence of no people that helps to remind me of the day, of my feelings, of my expectations. The raindrops evaporate into the air, as if they never existed: the morning paper never mentions yesterdays weather, and only the wet concrete squares retain the memory of it. Similar to the most of my every-day encounters, meaningless thoughts, big ideas never passing the point of realization, like hunger or coffee cravings, they are all like the raindrops of this October's Sunday.

My life last month felt different, and now it seems a long time ago. Even under the comfort of his bare arms, playing chess, him feeding my mouth with gummy bears, and talking about his conversation with older brother about me, even so much security he has offered to me does not prevent me from thinking about fear of him walking away. I keep thinking about retaining attractive and interesting to him, about being funny and happy, smiling with my eyes – the reason of his adoration, and even thou it would not be a problem for me otherwise, I find myself worrying: what if I am not happy and funny, pretty and witty, good cook with adorable French pronunciation. What if my imagination when faire de l’amour runs out, and what if other what ifs happen?

And what if I am too worried about falling in love? Have I forgotten how? As the latest reminder of me.in.love might have actually been just a shock from a refusal, I am not sure how to let myself in.

European Life

And I hang on to these imaginary balloons, sun shining through their imaginary red rubber. They lift me to the puffy clouds, white, clean, disappear-able.

I fucked up. There is no better expression for it.

I know why, and within a second he is kissing me, firmly and convinced, on our study break, a brisk sunset, late September, last warm day over. Fingers on my waist, smell of grass, and the smile that sticks to his face. I fucked up.

Does not matter now.

Mama-like

Luxemburg garden, then a little old cinema that welcomes only the same people for years now, a walk by Pantheon, and Latin quarter.

Hey, the best crepes in the city, are you hungry?

Waiting in the endless line of patient people and enjoying comfortable silence, I just note that I do not like when they handle money and food with the same hands. Silence again.

Funny, my mom would say the same thing.

And I suddenly feel too confident.

Dinner time

I cry.

I do not know why.

We fall asleep, then cook dinner naked.

Spravime si lezate ciary. Hrubizne lezate ciary.

Som doma skor ako obycajne. Kym hrejem spenat a ryzu, rychlo osprchujem pot z predletneho dna. Postavim sa pod okno, naha, s poharom mineralky. Su tam holuby, velke ako sliepky. Skryvaju sa poza kominy, a ja rozmyslam nad snami, ktore si pamatam z minulej noci. Organizujem si beznosti napriklad ako nakup potravin, usmeje ma dnesna lemonada s dievcatami, a potom ma zaboli hlavna tema nasej diskusie. Prvy krat v zivote mam kamosky, ktorym vravim o chlapcoch v mojom zivote.

A o tom, ako sa dnes pre mna vsetko skoncilo.

Sklamana, s odretymi laktami, viem, ze dnes sa to vsetko skoncilo.

Stojim naha pod oknom. Musim prestelovat radio. Srkam bublinky, a takto sa hrajem s myslienkami.

Confidence problems inside the confidence intervals

I inhale spicy smoke, first a bit warm, and then amazingly disgusting, yet, relaxing. The still water stays silent, only the never-ending talk of never-ending people sitting on the bank of the canal vibrates through my body. My head spins - it will for another few minutes, and I suddenly feel strangely happy that I am here with friends who do not need me to say anything. They are high, with themselves, satisfied, for now.

I let my brain wander through dead-end streets, green clouds, and purple valleys, think about the bike tour through the city, bonsoairs I said to prostitutes, smiles I was gifted with from boys demanding my attention when the speed and the wind played with my hair and touched my naked shoulders, wine I drank straight from the bottle. Reset. Silence in my body.

Confidence problems, I tell her during the econometrics lecture, as I know she will understand, and will not try to convince me how pretty and amazing I am. “I have had problems with my confidence since…” I stay silent, and she whispers the end of the sentence with a question mark. It would be much simpler to just compute the 0.95 confidence for normally distributed variable.

A grown woman has a teenage problem. Almost funny. I inhale the burning smoke into my lungs again, world spins, and I realize that this is the first time in my life I do not love no one.

pozname sa z internetu

Hovorime o knihach v jeho spalni a vobec mi to nepride neprirodzene. Hanbim sa, ze neviem nic o hudbe, prekvapi ma, ked nas nazve znamostou z internetu. Viem, ze som neprirodzene ticho, ale nic s tym neurobim. Mozno je to len unavou, mozno myslienkami, ktore mi cupitaju hlavou.

Ked rano pocitim dotyk na mojom bedre, zmatie ma. Aj ked som to ocakavala, aj ked bolo jasne, ze existuje ta moznost, aj ked mi moje nohavicky vravia, ze mi to vobec nie je jedno

viem, ze o chvilku letim, viem, ze by ma to poplietlo, a tusim, ze kedze ja nechcem byt kitty aku si on mysli, ze ju potrebuje, nedavalo by to vobec zmysel.

praha

Vyzlec si tricko, vravi mi lahko. Lezim vedla neho na jednotke posteli, presuvali sme ju pod okno kym ju neosvetlili obedne luce. Pomoze mi vysukat jeho, niekedy zlte, tricko, co mal na sebe vcera, leziacky, spod mojho chrbata. Nechavam aprilove teplo objimat moje biele prsniky. Malicke kvapocky potu mu vyskakuju na cele, rozmyslam, ze dnes som nemala rannu kavu.

Milujeme sa, znova a znova a ja zrazu pochopim, ake emocionalne to pre mna je. Viem, ze sa nikdy nepovznesiem nad muzom, ktoreho necham dotykat sa mojej nahoty.

Hrame sach. Vyhram - s jeho pomocou. Jeme az vecer, spolu pecuc jablkovu strudlu. Vsetko je skvele, len… prechodne.

no answers

So, a walk by the canal? I ask her, after hours spent studying, and she says yes, she wants. I ask this knowing it will bring tons of memories. I suddenly feel heartbroken. Later, we say good night, take different streets, and I decide to be stupid again. He’s home, I smile, seeing the light coming out of the front windows.

I turn around, heading to the metro station, and then stop and go back again. Walk up to his floor and wait behind the doors – I want to know if he listens to the music, watches the news, if he is with someone. As always, silence, only when I hear his cough, it satisfies me. He’s reading some crazy econ paper, I am guessing.

I miss you a little bit, I’m writing waiting for the next train. And the guy with the guitar sings on the metro some good songs I cant remember anymore. And, the woman smiles asking if I wanted to sit. I shake my head and continue counting her countless gray hair. Handsome Englishmen get off at the same metro station as me. It rains, slowly, calmly, softly. The streets shine orange, bluish-white. He doesn’t answer.

parizske momentky

Cupkam domov a vykrucam zadkom. Len tak, z roztopase. Minam ludi, tak ako minam peniaze. Zobrakov a opilcov, mladez so zelenymi vlasmi a funky topankami. Vsetci su minuti, do poslednych drobnych.

Cupitam a vrkoc mi poskakuje v rytme. V tonoch ciganskym piesni hravanych pred barom La Formi, na rohu mojej ulice. Ze neviete?! Ale ba, takato: besame, besame muucho, s hlbokym, smutnym, a krasnym hlasom postarsej ciganky a sprievodu mozno este starsej basy. Este doteraz mi srdce posiela krv do koncekov prstov hmkajuc tu istu melodiu.

Moj odraz v sklenenych vitrinach pekarni a malych butikov je prekvapivo uspokojivy. Mozno preto, ze je sero. Teda urcite.

Vryvam si do srdca tvare poulicnych predavacov ruzi, a miestnych casnikov. Zapamatam si bozky, co priroda dnes stedro nadelila tim milencom, co prave zastali pred branou kostola. A tie kostolne vrata sa vlnili v rytme organa a anjelskych piesni. Vsetko si vryvam do srdca a hned zabudam, nestiham si ani zapisat na papier, vsetko je prec mavnutim ruky, vsetko, len nie ten hrejivy pocit.

Moment, ktory ked zatvorim oci, hocikde na svete a v hociktoru chvilku, mi vycari usmev na tvari.

A Surprise party tonite.

Ah, that’s how it is! Everything starts making sense to me, just now.

I still watch people on the train from that cornerest corner – is he a student, or maybe not - maybe he just can wear jeans to work and take a two hour lunch break. Handsome, must say. Kinda blond, kinda tall, im thinking, but hes sitting, so I cant really tell.

The mom with a baby on her breast. Babies are my weak side. I get so sweet when I can watch them. Id like to have one. Like now, or even yesterday.

The man is not there anymore. I wonder which station he got off.

The lady left too. With the baby, imagine.

And in my thoughts, I go back to this clear message I’ve been receiving, but not decoding.

I don’t want a girlfriend right now.

 ‘What?’ He must have read in my eyes.

Not a serious girlfriend, I mean.

Well, I leave you now to do the work, I get up after a few minutes. Usual two kisses on the cheeks, in all this confusion I also get the third one. He thanks for the pleasant surprise. 

swimmingly, kinda

Wanna go after we finish this one? I answer yes, watching him with an almost empty beer glass. Im tired, I say. He drinks another one home while we laugh on the late night cnn broadcasting. Algeria will be more difficult, he thinks. But that’s why its so interesting to be following it! I explain, excited, as always when it is about politics. I get kisses in return, and in a little while, fall asleep listening to him eating chips downstairs.

Its still too dark, when he curls his legs into mine and it’s the first time ever, well - for the past month, he is awake earlier than me. I realize where I am, feel his chest hair touching my back, and his palms owning my nakedness. All these crazy dreams I’ve been waken up from are gone, immediately. Its been a month since I met you, I remind myself, smile and fall asleep again. Later, after another few hours and moments that I will always remember, he laughs on my jokes and we talk about some short-term goals. Vacations, small getaways, summer, school. I forget to tell him about leaving to germany for a semester in September, and then I go home to change, take a shower, and listen to

Ceresne su zrele, a bluzka priuzka, nic vam nepomoze 

zelena haluzka

only to be late for our Pompidou date in the afternoon - to look for paintings we both like. 

It goes swimmingly, for now

sharing

He grabs my hand, and we synchronize our steps, walking by moulin rouge, passing by the strip bars, and people offering handouts with a list of tonight’s shows. He refuses the roses Pakis try to sell with big, fake smiles on their dark faces. I hold his knees and sip from his beer.

The concert is a five-minute walk from my place. He fell asleep as soon as I took off his shoes. I didn’t get enough sleep, he said, I played poker till seven. He snores hugging me, and I stare into the dark, awake till early morning, but even then, every one of his movements disrupts my dreams. They were about him anyway, so all good.

on the second.

So, he gives me two choices: movies or drinks. 930, I'll be there, I answer picking movies. He introduces me to the names of directors and makes connections from one movie to another, and we conclude not-happy-ending ones are those we both can watch. He is very touchy right from the start, but only towards the end of the screening, our hands get together. I can feel him even now, sweet cigarette scent left on my fingers.

We first kiss when entering an almost empty café place. It's midnight, Tuesday night, naturally, it's almost empty. Some more small talk, econ talks, school talk, language talk. Hes grabbing my hand, and I'm asking where we are going. Are you free on the fifth? I have two tickets to a punk-rock concert. His apartment is close, he says, I could get more tea if I wanted. Its only the second, im thinking, the second date for the professor of economics? He can do better than this, so I go to the metro, and we kiss good-bye. He whispers his apartments here, and I whisper next time. Have to catch the last train - I left bad panties on to assure i sleep home tonight. 

in love with mornings

a slight headache, its so odd to realize changes in your body by comparing it to your 'young' years when there was never any headache after any kind of mixing. something like waiting for the first gray hair. boiling the water for coffee, i am thinking about how it went yesterday. him showing me his gray hair when discussing our age. im telling him about Tunisia, Lebanon, and Sarkozy; he listens, smiles, and asks if i like vietnamese food. we will go, the next time, you need to try! we complain about horrible first economics phd year, even thou its been years since he did it, and im just in it now. he finishes my beer, wants me to cook dinner so i let him pay for drinks, and kisses my cheeks. 

yes, i think it went well. 

i stay in bed, finally, after a week of sleeping almost on the floor, so finally, i have my own place. on the seventh, no elevator, right under the roof, excited about staying home for rainy days, cooking dinners for nights in, making morning coffee, letting the water boil and sun get in through a roof window.