dream after dream...

coffee no. 145

2008-08-11T23:41:00.002+02:00

An old man sits in front of me on a tram. He reads a newspaper and eats orange tic tacs. Suddenly one can hear a loud regular tone and the man starts to squirm. With a gigantic nervousness he checks his pockets and bag, the newspaper falls on the floor, people start to stare. I am not surprised by his behaviour because the view of elderly people fumbling for their phones is quite common. They often have big, old fashioned mobiles giving an annoying and too loud beep beep beep. After some seconds on the passenger's face appears a delicate smile of relief. He takes out of his leather bag a red cheap alarm clock, turns it off and takes back into the bag. Wakey!

coffee no. 144

2008-07-06T11:11:00.001+02:00

http://www.christophehuet.com/

Champagne

2008-07-04T12:06:00.001+02:00

coffee no. 143

2008-06-24T16:39:00.000+02:00

Write books only if you are going to say in them the things you would never dare confide to anyone.

Emile M. Cioran

coffee no. 142

2008-06-21T23:11:00.003+02:00

This afternoon I spotted a big green and blue carpet, lying rolled next to the trashcan near the house I live. Nothing unusual; just a quick random glance around. When I was coming back home, late in the evening, something special happened. The carpet was unrolled in the middle of the empty pavement and it looked as it was waiting for somebody to sit down on it, somebody brave enough to begin a fantastic journey over the roofs of the city...
Unfortunately, it was not a flying carpet... Or I was not a proper person... ;)
Anyways, I took a photo of it with my mobile phone. It scarcely turned out in the darkness, but here is a proof:

coffee no. 141

2008-05-31T14:10:00.004+02:00

When you look carefully enough, you will spot in almost every group of tourists one person totally odd -- dressed in some other way, or behaving differently than the rest. The most often it is a woman -- high heels, mini skirt and the hairdo like straight from the hairdresser, whereas the other people are wearing trainers, jeans and baseball caps. She is talking on the phone while her companions are listening to the guide's stories concerning monuments. And when they are looking at the monuments, she is looking around, at the people. She is chewing a gum whereas the others are eating their sandwiches. She is bored and smiling, tired and brave in her unconfortable shoes, ridiculous and funny as well. And absolutely unaware of the fact that she stands out...

coffee no. 140

2008-05-03T23:30:00.004+02:00

The most important are photos we have not taken.
During my last trip I saw a long-haired Japanese woman, dressed in a wonderful flowery dress. Standing several footsteps behind her, I was observing the moment when she was adjusting her make up. I could not seen her face -- only the shapely red lips reflecting in a small round mirror she was holding in her hand. I was so mesmerized with that cinematic view that as soon as I remembered about my camera, the woman had her *job* finished.
Thinking about this non-existent photo, I suppose that it would not be as good in reality as in my imagination.
The best are photos we have not taken.

coffee no. 139

2008-04-30T10:28:00.002+02:00

A couple of days ago I visited a photography exhibition of Gregory Crewdson in Prague's Rudolfinum. His art is out of this world so I spent a lot of time gazing at the big colorful photos and examinating every single milimetre of them. The gallery was quite empty and silent but suddenly I heard a loud, vivid conversation in the next room. It turned out that there were two very old women, standing in front of the photo entitled 'Beneath the Roses'. I could not understant what they were talking about but both of them were mesmerized and moved. They behaved like teenage girls watching the posters of some pop star or a famous, handsome actor. It was really great observing them, particularly because I was sure that they had not appeared in Rudolfinum by accident...

The Tuning Fork by Edward Gorey

2008-04-07T12:50:00.001+02:00

coffee no. 138

2008-04-03T16:44:00.000+02:00

http://www.reuters.com/news/video?videoId=79351&videoChannel=1

coffee no. 137

2008-04-02T12:33:00.002+02:00

Near the city centre there is a small quasi-professional art gallery which I pass almost every day. They sell nice jewellery and horrible paintings. About a year ago on the display appeared a big copy of Klimt's THE KISS. It was awful as hell -- different colours, shapes, everything. Moreover, the paining kept on fading in the sun shining through the window. Yesterday I noticed a jarring change --THE KISS disappeared, visibly bought by someone blind or crazy. Uffff. I was standing in front of the empty gallery display, grinning like someone who at last threw away the most ugly armchair in their house.
Today the gap has been filled. With Klimt's JUDITH, painted by the same excellent *author*...

Thank goodnes in two weeks I will have an occasion to watch a REAL Klimt at Viennese Belvedere.

coffee no. 136

2008-03-25T14:18:00.004+01:00

I do not know how it is but some people look completely idiotically when they smile. As long as they keep serious expression, they are handsome, beautiful, *normal*. But only when the smile appear on their face, they become really different, kind of versatile, or even piteous. Very often it seems as if they just came out with the uncontrolled, sudden grin like for example with a swear-word... The smile appears and the image collapses...
Maybe the more serious someone tries to be, the more foolishly they look while smiling...

Years ago somebody told me: Do not put your trust in people who look strange when they smile...

coffee no. 135

2008-03-21T18:18:00.001+01:00

Czesław Miłosz

WHEN THE MOON

When the moon rises and women in flowery dresses are strolling,
I am struck by their eyes, eyelashes, and the whole arrangement of the world.
It seems to me that from such a strong mutual attraction
The ultimate truth should issue at last.

Johanna Trio

2008-03-13T14:09:00.001+01:00

From Tim Burton's SWEENEY TODD

Foutaises Jean-Pierre Jeunet (eng sub)

2008-03-12T22:57:00.001+01:00

coffee no. 134

2008-03-03T00:15:00.003+01:00

A couple of bizarre dog's names: Name, Why, Play, Champagne, Brandy, Byron, Balzac, Dante, Lennon, Coffee.
Some days ago I heard a man calling his two big black dogs: Bonnie and Clyde.

coffee no. 133

2008-03-01T21:07:00.003+01:00

Another story from the shopping centre. I see a teenage (around 14 years old) girl dressed in nice and funny but very exaggerated way. She is wearing black jeans, grey T-shirt with a big colorful picture and tons of yellow accessories: huge plastic earrings, headband, hair clips, beads, bracelets, belt, rings, bag... Yellow horror vacui.
Some minutes later I spot a woman in her early fourties, being turquoise horror vacui... I immediately think that it is not a mere coincidence -- she MUST be a mother of that girl.
Finally I meet them both, walking side by side, colorful like two parrots and strangely sad. Their image is smiling from the distance but their faces look like the random pieces of some odd, spooky collage.

coffee no. 132

2008-02-25T22:10:00.005+01:00

Years ago I watched a film (or, more probably, only beginning of it) that made such an impression on me that I think of it from now and then. It is strange because I remember neither the title nor the plot. Nothing. In my memory there is only one scene -- the view from the distance, maybe from above of empty, totally white, covered with snow place with only one small cottage... I cannot recollect if somebody was going through the snow, or not. Only this picture and Icelandic calm mood...
I wonder whether one day I will come across this scene on the TV or Internet and snap my fingers: that's it! I wonder whether this scene is *real* at all, or simply changed by my imagination through all of these years...

coffee no. 131

2008-02-23T23:06:00.003+01:00

In the shopping centre I see a man with a big red lipstick mark on his cheek. He is totally unconscious of it while lots of people sent him an uncontrolled smile. Even more funny is the fact that this man is a kind of I-am-very-serious-person -- smart suit, proud pace, the extremely expensive mobile phone in his hand. And the kiss-memory that makes him lovely but also a bit ridiculous (from his point of view, I think). I am almost sure that he will be very angry when he see his face in a mirror -- oh, damn kiss, it has spoiled my image...

Nevetheless, it is always wonderful to see a man with red lipstick mark on his cheek. Always.

Sigur Rós - Glósóli

2008-01-03T22:23:00.001+01:00

pure magic

coffee no. 130

2008-01-02T10:45:00.000+01:00

There is a TV guide that I buy from time to time, just for fun. This peculiar magazine is destined to people who do not like to think and are fascinated by gossips and series. The best thing about it is the idea of marks placed next to *the more important* titles. Fellini's Amarcord -- one star, Baywatch -- five, The double life of Veronica -- two stars, The Bold and the Beautiful -- five, etc... Always the same scheme.
Sometimes it is good to find oneself on the other side of the mirror.

frankenweenie part III

2007-12-26T15:36:00.005+01:00

frankenweenie part II

2007-12-26T15:36:00.003+01:00

frankenweenie part I

2007-12-26T15:36:00.001+01:00

coffee no. 129

2007-12-14T22:58:00.000+01:00

Today when I was buying perfume, the shop assistant asked whether she should pack it as a present. I nodded, in spite of the fact that the *present* was for nobody else but me. At home I put it on the table and slowly, with a huge smile untied the red bow... The scent was fantastic and very special.
One of the small crazes that can make the day.

coffee no. 128

2007-10-06T21:25:00.000+02:00

On the empty street I follow an old lady dressed in pink. She walks quite slowly, so I have an opportunity to look at every detail of her look. Her skirt, coat, scarf, shoes, tights, purse, fingernails and earrings are pink. Even her almost white hair has the pinkish tint. She makes me smile and immediatement I start thinking about her *pink* life. Is her appartament pink, too? The soap, towels and toilet paper in the bathroom, sheets and walls in the bedroom, plates, pots and furniture in the kitchen? Does she like sweets?
But the craziest of these questions is: what colour is her underwear???

Bat For Lashes - Whats a Girl To Do

2007-08-26T20:46:00.001+02:00

coffee no. 127

2007-06-17T19:00:00.000+02:00

Question of the day:
why do flies always fly in the central part of the room, just under the lamp?

coffee no. 126

2007-06-08T23:06:00.000+02:00

There are films that create very unique atmosphere around viewers. They do not only tell the story, show fascinating people or places, but they have very specific ability to grab us INSIDE. To make us sitting at the table, lying under the bed, walking on the street -- just inside, in that other reality, seemingly so distant and impenetrable.
They give as the opportunity to smell the air, taste some wine, touch the pillow... Beyond present time and space. We are like ghosts, standing always two or three centimetres away, imperceptible, thus grasping.
Yesterday I rewatched "Stealing beauty" by Bernardo Bertolucci. This is such a film.

coffee no. 125

2007-03-20T15:46:00.000+01:00

"I really don't see anything romantic in proposing. It is very romantic to be in love. But there is nothing romantic about a definite proposal. Why, one may be accepted. One usually is, I believe. Then the excitement is all over. The very essence of romance is uncertainty".

Oscar Wilde

coffee no. 124

2006-12-29T22:55:00.000+01:00

Yesterday I told him that I had just drunk one of my favorite drinks: cherry liquor with banana juice. In the evening he sent me a message: 'I bought cherry liquor and banana juice, and now I am drinking it. I wanted to feel the same taste as you. To be still closer to you'.

coffee no. 123

2006-12-22T23:36:00.001+01:00

When people hear that my birthday is on Christmas Eve, they always say "oh, what a pity. Only one present..." No matter how many presents I get, they always know better: the only one, Birthday-Christmas gift.
It is so funny. When you are asked about your date of birth everybody nod and sometimes add "so you are a Cancer / Taurus / Twins" etc. When I say that I was born on 24th of December everybody shake their head "oh, only one present"...

coffee no. 122

2006-12-16T09:01:00.000+01:00

"A gift book should either be no surprise or a big surprise: the one you always wanted or the one you never knew you wanted".

from the article "The Gifts to Open Again and Again" by W. Grimes in The New York Times

coffee no. 121

2006-12-15T18:19:00.001+01:00

Overheard in the cafe:
'I like coffee stains on my desk. And on the pages of my books'.

coffee no. 120

2006-12-12T18:20:00.000+01:00

Dante Gabriel Rossetti

SONG IV.
SUDDEN LIGHT.

I HAVE been here before,
But when or how I cannot tell:
I know the grass beyond the door,
The sweet keen smell,
The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.

You have been mine before,--
How long ago I may not know:
But just when at that swallow's soar
Your neck turned so,
Some veil did fall,--I knew it all of yore.

Then, now,--perchance again!....
O round mine eyes your tresses shake!
Shall we not lie as we have lain
Thus for Love's sake,
And sleep, and wake, yet never break the chain?

coffee no. 119

2006-12-09T23:30:00.000+01:00

You're searching...
For things that don't exist; I mean beginnings.
Ends and beginnings - there are no such things.
There are only middles.

Robert Frost, Mountain Interval, "In the Home Stretch"

coffee no. 118

2006-12-08T15:56:00.000+01:00

My two friends and I were going by train with some nice guy in the compartment. He listened to our conversation, sometimes joined in, and laughed at our jokes and impressions concerning a trip to the mountains. After some time the man left to the toilet and we decided to write a postcard for him: "Dear Mister from the train. We enjoy the journey with you...", our signatures, etc., and we put it into his book. When we were aproaching to our destination, we said good bye and were waiting in the corridor for the train to stop at the station. A couple of minutes later, just before we got off, he run out of the compartment and smiling shouted, "Oh, thank you for the postcard". It was so nice.
I am sure that we made his day. And vice versa.

coffee no. 117

2006-12-05T22:54:00.000+01:00

coffee no. 116

2006-11-24T23:33:00.000+01:00

At secondary school I was a member of a group that comprised people who had win some literary competition. We met once a week with known writer, in order to talk about our poetry and short stories, and prepare them for publication, etc. I was not very entusiastic about that meetings but I liked them, especially when some funny things happened. One day I brought a poem, written really fast, almost automathically, just for fun. It seemed nice to me, but I knew that "jury" would say that it was too simple and short. When I read it aloud, they started discussing it, founding a lot of metaphors, thoughts, ideas. I did not even thought of half of those senses, writing that poem, but they found it very interesting and good.
When I think about that situation, I always smile, and wonder how many great (and, what is more) logical meanings, of which authors had not thought while writing, has been found by literature critics. How many percent of masterpiece in "Ulisses" is connected with Joyce, and how many with its critics...

coffee no. 115

2006-11-17T23:09:00.000+01:00

Today when I was running to the cafe, I noticed that the new bookstore has been opened near the city centre. I am that kind of person who could not come out from such a shop with empty hands, so, bearing in mind that a couple of days ago I spent a lot of money for a wonderful album about Symbolists, I decided to pass the shop by and visit it next week. But suddenly I stopped in front of the small window because my eyes saw something really important inside. There was a shelf with Moleskine notebooks! All of them -- large and small, plain and ruled, reporter and diary. All of them! I was gazing like a child in front of the shop with candies or toys, and I was sure to be back there tomorrow.
When I think about it now, I am still very happy that at last there would not be a problem for me to buy a new Moleskine. On the other hand, something changed, even ended -- I can simply go to the shop and buy what I want. Just like any other thing. Without waiting...
I remember the time when I dreamt of having the Moleskine notebook. And I remember the day when I was given it by surprise.
Maybe it is sad, maybe only melancholic, but probably I will always associate Moleskine notebooks with a present. When you buy it on your own, it is only half a magic.
Tomorrow I am going to buy the Moleskine diary 2007.

coffee no. 114

2006-11-11T09:57:00.000+01:00

Strange looking guy gets on the tram. He is short and obese, his face is unnaturally pale and there is some kind of maddness in his eyes. I think that Renfield from B. Stoker's "Dracula" could look exactly like him. The man holds a book in his hands, and having noticed the very characteristic cover, I know that this is one of Harlequin romances. After a while Renfield takes a seat next to the place I stand, opens his book and starts reading. I can see that he has already read about one third of the novel. His chubby fingers with very long fingernails move restlessly. Some minutes later, after observing wet with rain streets, my eyes come back to the reader. What can I see? Renfield reads the last page of the book, smiling from ear to ear and sighing of relief. It seems that his romance ends happily. Thank goodness.

coffee no. 113

2006-11-07T23:39:00.000+01:00

“Everything looks a little different when you leave.”

Charles Atlas in the interview for The Times.

coffee no. 112

2006-11-04T21:26:00.000+01:00

Years ago, at the age of 14 or 15, my two friends and I were at a very peculiar concert. The event took place in the park, near the city centre, on a spring sunny day. In addition it was Saturday early afternoon, so you can imagine crowds of happy people, from mothers with their kids, to saunting pensioners. But, surprisingly, there was nobody. Only three of us and a well known in the city bum who always looked like a parrot, wearing tons of ribbons and odd shoes. So we were staying a couple of metres from the stage, waiting for the concert to begin, and after some minutes it really did. The band consisted of a bit tough guys with long hair and leather trousers. They came to the stage very embarassed and astonished with all that absurd situation, and performed for about half an hour. We were clapping, trying not to burst in laughter, and the bum was dancing like a mad, his ribbons were floating, oh it was so crazy! I wonder what the musicians must have felt in that moment, how they were, what were they thinking of while playing their serious songs only for three cynical girls and twirling Mr. Parrot...
The answer to that question is obvious, of course.

coffee no. 111

2006-10-27T17:36:00.000+02:00

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.

coffee no. 110

2006-10-25T13:01:00.000+02:00

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.

coffee no. 109

2006-10-24T12:58:00.000+02:00

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

coffee no. 108

2006-10-12T12:35:00.000+02:00

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...'

coffee no. 107

2006-10-01T23:15:00.000+02:00

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.

coffee no. 106

2006-09-26T22:41:00.001+02:00

In the secondary school a very cool boy joined our class. He was handsome and nice but unfortunately he was not interested in any of girls gazing at him with the huge admiration. One day, during the break he took out his wallet and said proudly: 'I'm gonna show you my new girlfriend'. All of us were waiting with a curiosity, but the photo hidden beneath the transparent plastic was too good to be true. There was not an average girl in it but a big-red-mouthed blond model cut out from some magazine. We were so surprised that instead of laughing or calling him an idiot we looked at each other and nodded: 'Yeah, lucky you. She's a star'. It was really strange but that guy truly believed us and tried to use his trick another couple of times. 'I broke up with the last one. Look this is my new sweetheart' he was telling us about once a month, showing another paper girl from his mother's magazines. When I recollected this today I wondered who in this game was a winner. We, pretending to believe in his silly stories, he believing that we believe, or maybe rather he pretending to believe that we believe...

coffee no. 105

2006-09-16T11:04:00.000+02:00

"For a certain kind of person, love begins from something tiny or silly".

Haruki Murakami NORWEGIAN WOOD

coffee no. 104

2006-09-10T11:34:00.000+02:00

One of the most magical places in the most magical city I have been to is Restaurace Bona Vita in Prague. I have already written about it on this blog (butterflies hidden in the tables). Sitting at "my" table there, by the window, I always look at the women entering and getting out from the haidresser vis a vis the restaurant. At first with messy, unsheveled hair, after some minutes they walk smiling and really happy. Every single time I dreamed of getting my hair cut exactly there, and after, come to Bona Vita for a cup of coffee. But never there was enough time for that.
In two weeks this small, a bit silly dream will come true. I will leave my hair in Prague and drink to that day among the glass butterflies.

coffee no. 103

2006-09-07T22:28:00.000+02:00

A huge, obese man is going down the street very slowly. Next to him, on the red leash there is walking a tiny ratte-like dog. Suddenly the man stops and start waving at somebody across the street. It is pretty, really short and skinny woman. When she comes up to him, he gives her a hug and holds her hand. They keep on walking in such an order: the man, the woman and the dog. Mr. Big and two extremely small beings of his life.
I imagine him sitting in the cramped armchair, in front of the 15 inch TV, holding in his plump hand a tiny cup of coffee... and so on...
Guliver complex?

coffee no. 102

2006-08-28T21:49:00.000+02:00

I had a friend who was excellent at telling the films' plot. She was the one of really few people I could have listened to for hours. We were spending a lot of time together so when we run out of conversation subjects, she often started talking about the film she'd seen recently. No matter how good it was, my friend always made it a masterpiece. Always. While listening to her I was able to create all the images in my head, all the situations, colors, smells etc. It was like reading an outstanding book. It is obvious that I wanted to watch those films because they seemed so perfect. But most of the time they did not and I was mostly disappointed because my friend's relation and ipso facto my vision were kind of different from them.
Yesterday I was watching "The Hours" and the opening scene put an unwary smile on my face. I know it was a bit dissonant while Virginia was commiting suicide, but at that moment I recalled my friend telling me about that film two years ago. It was exactly the same, as if I had already seen it. Some kind of Pre-raphaelite atmosphere, a bit of Ophelia, those colors, everything.
And once more I missed the hours we spent together because they were really precious.

coffee no. 101

2006-08-24T18:53:00.000+02:00

"Take a look at the books other people have in their homes".

Jerzy Kosinski

coffee no. 99

2006-08-09T10:34:00.000+02:00

The city I live in is a real hell for drivers nowadays. Because of numerous road works there are a lot of diversions and, of course, neverending traffic jams. Adding the horrible, and also neverending, downpour we have the August Saturday afternoon landscape ideal for newlyweds.
The chain of colourful cars is suddenly broken by a dignified, white as snow "limousine", adorned with white balloons and streamers. There is no possibility of passing by the others, so the only way is to wait patiently in the situation when nobody is patient.
I can see the woman with a big veil and her husband sitting in the back seat but I am too far to see their expressions. Are they happy after all, or sad, or disappointed? Do they think that THEIR day should look quite differently? What are they talking about during those long minutes on the road? Are they joking? Or maybe complaining? What music are they listening to in the car?
Too many questions.

coffee no. 98

2006-08-04T18:47:00.000+02:00

One of the phenomena that really astonishes me is somebody-looks-at-you moment. The moment when some person attracts you only with their eyesight, or vice versa. I have tried this trick many times, always with the same result. Sooner or later people realise that they are being observed, even if they are sitting in another corner of overcrowded cafe. Even if they are preoccupied with the conversation, with reading a newspaper, with eating, etc. They behave as if they have been stung suddenly and for a second they interrupt all their activities only to send you kind of why-the-hell-are-you-staring-at-me expression. Do-I-know-you?! Have-I-got-dirty?
I am very curious how does it work. Do our eyes send some invisible waves that can put an ephemeral spell on the others?...

coffee no. 97

2006-07-22T13:39:00.000+02:00

"We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are".

Anais Nin

coffee no. 96

2006-07-20T10:20:00.000+02:00

I asked some people: What was the best present you have ever received? The thing that made you smile, cry, jump, everything. That you felt like running and shouting: Look at this! It is mine! It is mine! That you felt wonderfully dizzy and for a moment believed that you are the happiest person in the whole universe...
My interlocutors were always smiling, thinking for a couple of minutes and begun: 'When I was a child...'
There were nice stories, but very similar. Majority of them, who knows why, were talking about bikes.
"When I was a child..." stories are usually beautiful and moving. And almost every gift we got then was "the best". But tell me, what was the most wonderful present you have ever received in your adult life???
The people smiled again, started thinking, but after some minutes said: 'I do not know. There is not any. You know, I got a lot of things, but the "wow" one?... no... I do not remember.'

Sad. Very sad.

coffee no. 95

2006-07-18T14:06:00.000+02:00

In my neighbourhood lives an old woman who's got the ugliest dog in the world. It is a round, fat, white creature that never run or bark. You can hardly see its eyes, ears, paws, and tail, so the dog looks like a snowball trundling on the grass, and getting more and more dirty. But the woman loves it with all her heart -- I saw very often when she was gazing at the Snowball Dog with a huge admiration and happiness.
Today I was waiting for someone in front of my house and the dog slowly came up to me. I stroke him and said to the owner, 'Oh, he is very nice'.
'She' -- the woman sent me very scolding look. 'SHE. It is my little girl!'
'I am sorry. She.' I repeated and saw that "She" was eating the torn paper lying on the pavement.
'And what is HER name?', that was the question I always wanted to ask that woman.
She smiled, stop smiling, and after a moment of silence answered, 'Pearl'.
The manner she said that showed a little anxiety. Hey, you cannot see that it is She not he, and even you cannot guess that Her name is Pearl. It is obvious that She looks like a pearl, doesn't she?!!!
And at once she took her dog on her arms like a small child and went away...

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Another cool T-shirt
"Boys come, boys go", worn by about 40 year-old-girl.

coffee no. 94

2006-07-18T09:52:00.000+02:00

"Under the dark warm waters of sleep
your hands part me.
I am dreaming you anyway."
(...)

Carol Ann Duffy SLEEPING

coffee no. 93

2006-07-17T08:59:00.000+02:00

I do not know where it comes from but the last four of five nights I had wonderful dreams. I dreamt about familiar places that did and did not look like in reality. So I visited my friend's flat which for example had utterly fantastic, unbelievably fairy-tale view from the windows. Or my favorite cafe that was 50 times bigger and reminded a maze where one could meet a lot of unique surprises.
The only thing that always recured was night. Every single time it was dark in that mysterious THERE...

Those dreams made me think: what if everyone had the second world in their dreams. The world where they would move as soon as they fell asleep. Every night. The same streets, houses, shops and cafes. The same friends, dogs and names. But everything more colorful, more crazy, "tailor-made".
I am going to write something longer about it but I do not know if I can... Anyway, I will try.

coffee no. 93

2006-07-16T23:08:00.000+02:00

Like in winter I adore observing people's headgears, in summer interesting could be T-shirts, and sometimes other items of clothing.

The obese young girl in too tight white T-shirt anouncing: I'm too sexy for you.
Woman in her mid sixties wearing black, sequinned shirt with a huge pink inscription: Marry me in Las Vegas.
Old tired bum and his navy blue, unveiling the navel "Big Brother" T-shirt. The woman he is holding hands with is wearing normal jeans. Normal as long as you see them in front. When they are passing me I see golden letters on her bottom: Gangsta rules.
And the most bizarre. Not too lovely, but very in love couple. White new T-shirts with each other's photos. He is wearing "her" on his chest and vice versa. Photos like from their Identity Cards.

coffee no. 92

2006-07-13T11:38:00.000+02:00

Another interesting vehicle:
the hearse with the huge inscription HAPPY END.

coffee no. 91

2006-07-10T08:59:00.000+02:00

After a lot of insanely hot days there was a big storm and the weather automatically changed. The following day was cloudy and cool, everything looked like in September. I was going very slowly and suddenly noticed really lovely view. On the bus stop there was standing a woman with her small, about four-year-old son. The boy was dressed all in red and was holding a big yellow duck-lifebelt, a kind of the children use when they are learning to swim. He really loved that crazy toy, hardly bore it, but the duck apparently must have been with him all the time. Not a plastic car, not a teddybear -- just huge, rubber, extremely yellow duck-lifebelt that looked fantastic against the red boy's outfit. And both of them looked fantastic against the sad and grey city background.

coffee no. 90

2006-07-04T23:03:00.000+02:00

My third island is full of very funny fluffy creatures I see sometimes in toy shops. I think of the toys that start moving and singing (in their own mysterious language ) when you touch or pat them. I know, it's crazy and infantile, but such sweet monsters always make me happy. So when I'm feeling blue, I go to a toy shop...
I have always dreamed to have one of these peculiar toys at home but it is always so many other things to buy instead...

coffee no. 89

2006-07-02T00:16:00.000+02:00

In "inner words" of some people there is an archipelago called OBSESSION ISLANDS.
Every island is full of various, often strange things, which are completely incomprehensible for others. This way such places are most of the time private and somewhat savage. Only their owners feel themselves at home -- they are absolutely happy to be there alone.

The archipelago consists three islands. The first one is an island of dreams that came true. It is full of objects that can be touched, smelled, used. At first sight a lot of them are very similar -- they differ in shade, size or other mysterious details (one has three dots in some place and the other only two...). Each has its own history and importance, and always it is not enough of them.
The second one is an island of dreams -- pure dreams that have not came true and probably never will. It is full of thoughts, images and belief. Even if those things are not material there, they put smile on a face of somebody who give them so much attention.
And the third one is an island of oddities. It is completely messed and funny. There are the things we would like and, what is important, can to posses but we do not. Because: they are too kitschy, because there are a lot of more necessary objects for us, because we want to spend our money on something else, because we like to play with them and leave until the next time, because they are so available that there is no need to have them at once, because, because, because...

coffee no. 88

2006-06-28T09:31:00.000+02:00

The big shopping centre in my city is the place where a lot of people meet for dates. I think it is the weirdest idea in the world to sit in the middle of this whole chaos and eat melting ice cream from the one cup. Some couples apparently like this, considering those cafes as stylish and fashionable. No matter.
In front of the building, near the entrance, one can always see a few men, waiting for their women with flowers (yes, one-single-red-rose, of course). In this place there is also a bin where from time to time some of those flowers end up. I do not know why but stood up amants hardly ever put the roses upside down (what, in my opinion, could be more logical). This way the bin look like a big public vase -- the grotesque symbol of unrequited love.

Such a view always breaks my heart.

coffee no. 87

2006-06-26T22:11:00.000+02:00

You meet somebody you loved years ago and after a while you realise that their scent hasn't changed for that time. It is fantastic, even if you do not love them any more.

coffee no. 86

2006-06-21T23:34:00.000+02:00

While jogging this morning I notice the vivid orange garbage truck, standing at the traffic lights. Inside there are two young men wearing uniforms in the same color as their car. Under the windscreen, on the hood, there is a big inscription: BROTHERS FEAR.

coffee no. 85

2006-06-16T10:36:00.000+02:00

All I know about this girl is only her name - Mary.She was a bit strange and looked like children from the beginning of the last century. What I liked the most about her was the rubber parrot she was wearing on the string on her neck.

coffee no. 84

2006-06-15T22:21:00.000+02:00

The other day in a cafe I heard a beautiful soundtrack from THE SHIPPING NEWS by Lasse Hallstrom. At once I remembered the one scene, that remained in my memory, although I've seen that film some time ago. I am thinking about the moment when people are hauling the house on frozen river. That scene, as far as I remember, lasts only a couple of seconds in the film, but I was really delighted while watching it.
Today I found out that it was inspired by David Blackwood HAULING JOB STURGE'S HOUSE etching.
Great idea, to haul your house everywhere you move...

And probably most of us do this. Unconsciously.

coffee no. 83

2006-06-13T18:23:00.000+02:00

I used to teach a group of seven year old children who were very vivid and cheerful. Only one girl was always silent, withdrawn and lonely. I called her behaviour an "Eeyore syndrome", because she was always unhappy and pessimistic. While the other children were most of the time "fine", she was "not very well". The reasons of that saddness were utterly silly (for adults, of course). For her it was a real disaster when she was two minutes late for the lesson, when her braid had unplaited or something like this. It was very difficult to make her laugh or play. She was sitting at the table, but I knew that her thoughts were far away from the classroom. I did not want to bother her, because, surprisingly, she learned a lot, even when it looked like she was not attentive at all.
One day Eeyore Girl came up to me in the middle of the lesson. It was the first time she had ever approached.
'You know, some time ago I had intestinal flu', she said in whisper.
And after some seconds I realized that she decided to entrust me with maybe one of her biggest secrets.

coffee no. 82

2006-06-09T22:49:00.000+02:00

"One can wait a whole lifetime for a moment like this. The woman whom you never hoped to meet now sits before you, and she talks and looks exactly like the person you dreamed about. But strangest of all is that you never realized before that you had dreamed about her".

Henry Miller "Tropic of Capricorn"

coffee no. 81

2006-06-05T23:07:00.000+02:00

Years ago I watched a documentary about spies and men a la James Bond. The one scene was so impressive that I still remember it, unfortunately not as precisely as I would like to.
There was a big, long storage, or something like this, with great amount of shelves. On each shelf there were lots of jars -- it looked like a pantry full of jams, stewed fruit, etc. The jars however were filled with pieces of brown cloth... It was said that that way the scents of various people were stored and such smell (in sterile conditions) could last even 20 to 30 years.
Sometimes I think that it would be really wonderful to own such a collection of the most beloved scents in my world. The scents of men I loved, friends, places... -- by and large all the important memories. When I was feeling like "smell" some memories, I would open one or another jar and breath the aroma in, closing my eyes.

I have got two tiny bottles of perfume that are really precious for me. The first one which I was given many years ago had been brought from Tunisia. Inside a very decorative bottle there is a wonderfully smelling oil, prepared especially for me. The fragrance is unique and very exotic.
The second one I was given around a year ago. This perfume is based on a 16th century pot pourri and it's simply gorgeous. I smell it almost every day, but used only once. If I found it, I would buy the big bottle of it and would never dispense with.
These two aromas are kind of "magic potion" for me. Hard to find but giving the big power.

coffee no. 80

2006-06-04T11:47:00.000+02:00

On the photolaboratory's display I pass by very often has appeared a new element. It's an exceptional situation, because, as I wrote in last post, on that display nothing has changed for years. This "new element" is the advertisement announcing that the owners offer the new service -- the photos printed on china to be placed on graves. There would not be anything special in it but for the example of such an oval portrait. We can see in it the really awesome woman, undoubtedly a model. The people who prepared this peculiar ad probably opened "Vogue" or "Elle", picked out the prettiest face, cut it out and made this "grave photo" from.
Moreover, I don't think it was a joke -- these people must have really believed that the more (literally) beautiful example of their service, the more customers will be interested.

coffee no. 79

2006-06-02T10:50:00.000+02:00

I like photolaboratories' displays and any time I pass them, I stop in order to look at the photos the owners want to show the walkins. No matter which country I am, these photos are always feeble, faded and utterly kitschy. Newlyweds standing against "sunset" background, or next to the plaster column; frightened children surrounded by old awful toys, young women in pensive poses (always with tilted head)... The kingdom of artificiality.
Most of these photos have hung in the windows for years -- for this time the women have been married to the men whom they were sending those melancholy portraits, the newlyweds maybe got divorced and the children threw away all their toys long time ago.

coffee no. 78

2006-06-01T11:06:00.000+02:00

There is a Polish song by Kasia Nosowska which begins with words: "I'm sure you know these mornings when all that you see becomes the promise of a miracle".
This sentence means a lot for me, makes me smile, makes me cry, makes me think. Whatever.

coffee no. 77

2006-05-31T13:17:00.000+02:00

Concert from a philharmonic transmitted on TV. In front of the huge band was standing absolutely beautiful woman. She was wearing a smart blue dress and her long blond hair cascaded on the shoulders. At first glance I thought that she was a singer and I wanted to change the channel. But suddenly she started playing the trumpet... Her delicate cheeks pouted, face became red and eyes popped. The whole situation was ludicrous and really creepy. Some things in this world simply don't go together. But on the other hand our world would be so plain without such conjunctions.

coffee no. 76

2006-05-26T20:11:00.000+02:00

Last summer the man I was with and I, came across the exposition of the wonderful photos taken by Italian photographer Eolo Perfido. We spent much time gazing at the portraits of really beautiful women and one of them caught our attention more than the others. The woman in this photo was so lovely that my boyfriend could not stop looking at her, took a photo of that photo, the following day framed it and hung on his wall. Absolute fascination. He joked that he must go on a trip in order to find her. We tried to imagine how would it be searching her across the Europe for many days, maybe weeks, finally find her and what next? Invite for a coffee, wine, confess her love??? what next?!
We talk about it very often, wondering what would happen? if anything would happen...
I know that the whole idea is crazy and as kitschy as it could be, but I like it.
I really like it.

coffee no.75

2006-05-24T13:22:00.000+02:00

A friend of mine told me a very nice story today. When she was a little girl, her parents gave her an enormous present for her birthday. It was bigger than herself, so my friend was extremely curious what had been hidden inside. Having unwrapped it, she found another box, and inside it there was another, and another. Dozens of increasingly smaller boxes. She was getting more and more nervous, and the whole process became more infuriating than funny. Finally she reached the last, tiny box and it tourned out that there was a golden ring. She was completely dissapointed -- what value could have a golden ring for seven year old girl?
She was expecting something big, extraordinary and fabulous, but she got something ugly, useless and completely stupid instead...

coffee no. 74

2006-05-14T09:38:00.000+02:00

At my secondary school there was a girl absolutely similar to Wednesday from THE ADDAMS FAMILY movie. Pale and skinny, with long black hair and always dressed in black. I was dying to meet her and make friends with. Unfortunately she suddenly disappeared. I don't know what was the reason of her absence.
Sometimes I wonder how does she look presently. Is she still a lost, lonely, strange looking girl or maybe an atractive, sociable, cheerful woman?...

coffee no. 73

2006-05-12T21:55:00.000+02:00

I admire people who have very unique and peculiar abilities. And, after all, absolutely useless in everyday life.
Today I saw on the TV the young man who can count the letters of what he just hears. Somebody was reading (in the normal rate) the jokes or excerpts from books and the man out of hand could say how many letters there was in the whole sentence. It was amazing.

The most interesting is the fact that such talented people almost always look utterly normal -- nothing in their appearance or behaviour suggests that they are very special in some sense. Their appearance often says "hey, I'm an ordinary, boring person", but suddenly they turn out to be the most interesting people we have met in our life. So be attentive!

coffee no. 72

2006-04-29T15:26:00.000+02:00

I was walking down the empty street, so willy-nilly I looked at the man going in the opposite direction. He was in his early thirties, bald and very muscular. Dressed in a tracksuit and with a big bag, he was presumably coming back from the gym. It was a kind of a "tough guy" - strong and maybe even dangerous.
When I passed him, I could smell the scent of roses, and the fragrance certainly came from that man. It was not a scent of cheap perfume or soap, but the REAL scent of roses. Like this one that you can smell with your nose inside the flower's bud.
I stood paralyzed with wonder, breathing the heavenly aroma in, and thinking, who on earth was the "Strongman". An ordinary man or maybe SOMEBODY MORE in disguise?...

coffee no. 71

2006-04-11T22:31:00.000+02:00

"I love Mickey Mouse more than any woman I have ever known".

Walt Disney

coffee no. 70

2006-04-08T10:16:00.000+02:00

Some days ago a friend of mine asked me to recommend him a wonderful novel. There was a lot of titles in my mind but eventually I told him to read PERFUME by Patrick Suskind. He borrowed it from the library and start reading. Today he asked me for a meeting, and when we were sitting in a cafe, he suddenly took the book out, opened it and put on the table. To my surprise, in the middle of a page there was a red lipstick mark. I at once imagined a woman, spontaneously kissing the book, simply because she was delighted by it. And I smiled, thinking that there was so many books, paintings and other pieces of art I wanted to kiss.

coffee no. 69

2006-04-02T21:48:00.000+02:00

The longer I live, the more people I miss...

They live in books, songs, cafes and buildings. In scents, dishes and films. In clothes and pictures. In flowers.
But sometimes it's not enough.

coffee no. 68

2006-03-29T08:16:00.000+02:00

While walking downtown I pass elegant woman in her forties. She is going slowly, with a great self-consciousness. Her appearance is refined and flawless. And utterly serious. Excellent make up and hairdo, heels, luxurious jewellery. But there is something that after all draws attention. The one button of her white shirt has unbuttoned, exactly on her breast. Inadvertently she is showing her bra, losing that way all the seriousness and majesty.
We never are what we think we are...

coffee no. 67

2006-03-28T11:50:00.000+02:00

"You know the picture is yours, Dorian. I gave it to you before it existed".

Oscar Wilde THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY

coffee no. 66

2006-03-26T15:55:00.000+02:00

Saturday morning in the supermarket. Near the shelve with ketchups stands the middle aged man with the mobile phone pressed to his ear. He is utterly shaky, with the tears in his eyes. It's almost obvious that at the moment the woman he loves splits up with him. He tries to save their relationship, telling her something like this, 'All the sad moments will pass away. Believe me. Don't give up'. I stand some steps from him, thinking how cruel life could be. And how grotesque. Somebody's love falls to pieces in the sauces and seasonig lane...
Why do the very important things in our life end so pathetically very often?...

coffee no. 65

2006-03-24T22:58:00.000+01:00

I am your fairy tale. Your dream. Your wishes and desires, and I am your thirst and your hunger and your food and your drink.

Klaus Kinski

coffee no. 64

2006-03-17T08:47:00.000+01:00

Sometimes we see something and at once think about people who created this. Interiors of the cafes, hand painted cups, amazing photographs, etc. We don't concentrate on the thing itself, but try to imagine its author.
I like the moments when I stand in front of a wonderful painting for example, and I don't say 'this one is fantastic' but 'oh, the person who painted this must be fantastic'...

coffee no. 63

2006-03-02T19:08:00.000+01:00

The only thing that really interested me in THE PRINCE AND THE SHOWGIRL with Marylin Monroe was the wonderful purple sofa standing in the Prince's room. Despite of the fact that I watched this film a couple of years ago, I've remembered this detail and sometimes thought about it. Today I saw the almost identical sofa in my favourite furniture shop. I was standing next to it, staring, touching, smiling... The big purple velvet sofa from my dreams. And presumably one of the most expensive ones in the city.
Why do some things appear when we are not ready for buying them... And why do they disappear when we are able to make our dreams come true?...

coffee no. 62

2006-02-26T13:17:00.000+01:00

Years ago somebody gave me a CD with their favourite songs. I loved him madly and it was the beginning of our long-term relationship. When I came back home I put the CD on, and started doing gymnastics. I wanted make two things at once, because I hadn't much time. Next day he asked me if I liked the music. "Yes", I answered, "it was good for gymnastics". I will never forget the sight he sent me at that moment. And nowadays, when I think about it, I send identical sight to myself. It was a really big crime.

coffee no. 61

2006-02-24T20:59:00.000+01:00

"Desire makes everything blossom.
Possession makes everything wither and fade."

Marcel Proust

coffee no. 60

2006-02-20T07:55:00.000+01:00

(...)
Their heads fell apart into sleep like the two halves
Of a lopped melon, but love is hard to stop

In their entwined sleep they exchanged arms and legs
In their dreams their brains took each other hostage

In the morning they wore each other's face.

Ted Hughes LOVESONG

coffee no. 59

2006-02-16T11:47:00.000+01:00

One of my obsessions is that I want to have everything I love framed. My favourite paintings, photos, old advertisements, letters from people I am crazy about, etc.
I dream of a huge wall on which I could hang all of these treasures.
For the time being they sleep inside a big box, waiting for their time. I hope the time will come.

coffee no. 58

2006-02-02T10:35:00.000+01:00

From time to time everybody has a Day of All Yearnings. The day when all the thoughts are going around the past. The day when, who knows why, we miss some places, people, lost objects, etcetera. More than before...

And from time to time everybody has a Day of All Images. The day when all the thoughts are going around the future. How would it be to sit in the cafe X, what does the air smell like there?
What would it be his first word if we met?
How would it be to write with the most expensive pen in the world?

coffee no. 57

2006-01-27T10:56:00.000+01:00

Library is the place I am at least two times a week. It is a kind of microcosmos where chaos practically does not exist, and where you can meet always the same people. I love this calm, a bit peculiar world. With its logical space, time which goes more slowly than outside, its characters. There are some lovely librarians who treat their job very seriously, too much seriously. For instance, Mr. Numerologist, who keeps on repeating your place's number until you find your table and sit down, Mr. Ballpoint - I gave him this nick long time ago because he is very tall, slim and bald or Mr. Werewolf who is so big that the floor is trembling when he is passing by.
As far as readers are concerned, there is sort of Johnny Petangles who always wears red tracksuit and a baseball cap. He tries to make friends with Mr. Ballpoint, so he tells him the completely insane stories about cockroachs and other insects. There is also The Garlic Grandmother. She is very old and probably eats tones of garlic in order to defend herself from flu. Or vampires, who knows... Even when you sit five rows behind her you can smell the garlic and this is ghastly.
And so on and so on. Old proffesor who takes a nap with the book on his knees and starts snoring. Young woman with earphones who suddenly starts singing. Woman who changes her shoes and sits with bizarre woolen slippers on her feet...
And me who always smell the old books and sometimes sneeze because of dust...

coffee no. 56

2006-01-15T11:57:00.000+01:00

"20. December 1913

Letter from F. Beautiful morning, warmth in my blood.

21. December 1913

No letter."

F. Kafka Diaries

coffee no. 55

2006-01-08T20:14:00.000+01:00

I always have a lot of fun looking at photos placed on Internet auctions. People's imagination (or rather lack of it) have no limits. Somebody selling woman's smart bag has put it in the bathtub. Another person, trying to advertise a mobile phone, has put it on the kitchen's table, among full glasses and plates... And so on... A pair of shoes near the car's wheel, a skirt on a pavement, a book on an ironing board... Every time I see such peculiar ad I smile and do not know what to think.