Friday, October 27, 2006

coffee no. 111

Carol Ann Duffy
NAME

When did your name
change from a proper noun
to a charm?

Its three vowels
like jewels
on the thread of my breath.

Its consonants
brushing my mouth
like a kiss.

I love your name.
I say it again and again
in this summer rain.

I see it,
discreet in the alphabet,
like a wish.

I pray it
into the night
till its letters are light.

I hear your name
rhyming, rhyming,
rhyming with everything.

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

coffee no. 110

While waiting on the tram stop I overhear the conversation of two men next to me. They are in their early twenties and look very trendy. 'Look, what a chick!', says one of them, pointing at the girl standing some steps from us. She is tall and slender, dressed in short jacket and very tight jeans. Her heels are really high and her blond hair are being brushed by the wind. 'If we had more time, we would come up to her and ask for a cigarette or something...' - daydreams the second. 'Yes, and invite her to the tomorrow party...' - sighs the first one.
They are gazing at her for another couple of seconds when the tram arrives. She turns back and it is like the struck of lightning. We see wrinkled face, small sad eyes, eyebrows drawn with the eye pencil... Maybe sixty, maybe sixty-five year old lady...
I look at the boys. They are standing still, with their jaws on the ground. Toothless life has laughed straight in their faces.

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

coffee no. 109

Under the spell of Antony and the Johnsons (I AM A BIRD NOW).

Thursday, October 12, 2006

coffee no. 108

Some of my friends like just browsing their favorite books, reading one chapter or a couple of lines, or previously underlined sentence. I do the same with one film -- LE MARI DE COIFFEUSE by Patrice Leconte. It always make me smile because this kind of fascination is very close to me.
Last week I visited my hairdresser in order to get my very long hair cut. He is really nice man, but a bit shy, and sometimes when we run out of conversation topics he does his job without a single word. This time it was the same -- we were talking and talking and all of sudden cut -- silence. The day was grey and wet, it was raining heavily. 'Oh, it's very dark today' -- I said only to break the silence. He sighed and answered slowly 'Autumn...'.
The other day I felt like watching some minutes of "Le Mari...". How big was my surprise when I heard the dialogue I have not spotted before:
'There's a storm coming'.
'Maybe...'

Sunday, October 01, 2006

coffee no. 107

I admire people who remember in detail the books they read or the films they watched years ago. They are able to describe the whole plot, to list the names, to quote some sentences, ect. For me such a thing has always been a big problem, even if I was completely concentrated on the novel or film. I have had difficulty explaining this to the others till yesterday when I read the interview with some Polish actor. He told that he never remembers the "work" itself, but its atmosphere, colors, smell... And it was some kind of "Eureka" for me. The most important film in my life is associated with the white winter morning, the Jim Jarmusch's films taste of vanilla, the wonderful novel about wonderful dogs always moves me to the green sofa and the "Death in Venice" smells like cinnamon...
The AURA of those pieces will last forever.