Blesok no. 35, March-April, 2004
Prose


Short Stories
Translated by Kristina Trajanovska

Sonja Mandžuk



When he woke up it was the same day


● the glass from the first paragraph – broke
● find an interest in something more up-to-date and essential


1.


    That day he realized that nothing firm he was holding, nor he was firmly holding to something, and not even something firm is holding him. Neither in his life, nor to himself, and nor in his hands. Except the glass, momentarily. And /also/ it was empty.  
    He didn’t fill it. The cooler seemed far away. The night passing. He went to rest.
    When he woke up it was the same day.


2.

    That day, the man for whom here, like that, was mentioned, realized that nothing /firm/ he was holding, nor he was /firmly/ holding to something, and not even something /firm/ is holding him. Neither in his life, nor to himself, nor even in his hands. Nothing, momentarily, at least.
    The night was already passing and that’s why he went to rest. Tired. He was.
    When he woke up the same day it was.


3.


    /And/ that day, the man for whom here something like biography, (life) description or what: in a moment he realized that: nothing firm he was holding; nor he was firmly holding to something; and not even something firm is holding him; neither in his life; nor to himself; nor in his hands; nothing; momentarily; importantly; at least.
    The night was at its passing. To take a rest was needed. To rest, he went.
    It was the same day, when he woke up.


4.


    And, because a same day it was, what now something here, like, now this now that.


PS. If you are interested in the glass from the first paragraph: it broke.

PPS. It fell out of his hands. Of the man for whom here, like that, was mentioned. While he was carrying it towards the cooler. Or towards the sink. In the same direction, whatever. Today exactly, maybe. However, it wasn’t his last glass. A whole set of exactly the same glasses he had. Thus: he was left five more, if in the meantime he didn’t break another one. But: that’s another story.


Post Factum:
If you are interested why in the second and in the third paragraph he didn’t use – let’s not say: holding: one of the left five exactly the same glasses: you are interested in already finished and banal things. Find an interest in something more up-to-date and essential.




Because the neighbours know everything about their neighbours


    That day the man woke up heavy. His head was heavy. His shoulders were heavy. His hands. His eyes were also heavy and he can hardly recognize the objects around him. His legs were moving with difficulties. His body was heavy a lot so that’s why his feet sunk several centimetres in the dry earth . His fear was also heavy that appeared in his eyes and enlarged his pupils.
    The fear, however, was the heaviest. It was that heavy that made his head and his shoulders and his hands and his body even heavier.
    With heavy steps the heavy man directed towards the window because it seemed to him that from his heaviness became the heavy walls and the ceiling of his room. That’s why he directed towards the window. And the window was open outside it was spring and happy were the trees and their branches were light because the birds flew on them and when they flew out of them took away with them the others, invisible bodies of the trees and thus the trees were going everywhere where the birds were going or flying. But the heavy man couldn’t see that because the fear in his eyes had widened his pupils and he could hardly distinguish the things around him. He didn’t distinguish them, actually.
    The heavy man leant his heavy elbows on the window and couldn’t see a thing.
    He couldn’t see a thing, thus he returned in the bed in which, that morning woke up heavily and lied again. With heaviness in his eyes he was looking at the ceiling and soon the ceiling started to look at him with heaviness. Under its ceiling’s heaviness, the ceiling sanked several centimetres in a footnote the unmentioned but most often used figure of speech.
    The above mentioned caused a gentle swinging on the floor under the writer’s feet who that morning woke up heavy.
    Otherwise, the writer was not one of those writers who are omniscient and all present and who can also see at long distance. On the contrary: he wasn’t capable of seeing what’s happening a floor below. Nonetheless: he was a good neihghbour to his neighbours. They often came to his place, to drink coffee, to smoke a cigarette, to borrow some sugar, oil, toothpaste… and they were often inviting him for coffee. In the coffee – chats he was discovering everything about their lives and the lives of their close and distant relatives, friends and neighbours. Especially neighbours. Because: the neighbours know everything about their neighbours.




I woke up sitting
/this story will have to lie for a certain time or to be at standstill /


    I was driving on the summit of /a/ mountain. On two wheels I was driving. By automobile I was driving. On the summit of a mountain. The summit – not sharp as a razor, not steep as a summit of a mountain, for instance. On the contrary: flat and sandy. The wheels were getting stuck in the sand; and were sinking and throwing out grains of sand around them; they were spinning, to say it simply. /And/ simply I went out of the automobile and was pushing it simply. On the summit of /a/ mountain. I was pushing it simply, easily, with a single finger could be said more precisely. I don’t know exactly with which one and even to know – don’t know how much that would help to understand the state in which we were involved in: the summit of the mountain, the two wheels of the automobile, and any of my mysterious fingers. During all this time, not paying attention to the position above called a state – I was pushing the automobile on two wheels with any-of-the-fingers. If it can be said that something is pushed that is pushed easily, with no effort, without ppuuushshiiiiiiiing, but simply with – pushing, or with – p-u-s-h-i-n-g.
    /And/ I don’t know how much time everything that easily with the finger stretched along the summit of the mountain on an automobile with two wheels that were spinning, but I already got bored. And that’s why: I simply took the automobile and put it in my right, comfortably suitable, side pocket of my jeans that in the meanwhile, I noticed, ripped on the knees, and I wanted to continue – on foot, but suddenly: simply: I understood the state/position in which I/we was/were and I woke up exactly on time to hear the neighbours’ alarm clock at 6:30 am although I didn’t have a need to. That’s why: I turned to the other side, I put the pillow on my head and continued. To walk, this time.
    This was completely usual daily walk on completely usual everyday could be said: alleys and streets, crescents and little crescents and pavements, over there where there were pavements although on the streets there wasn’t even a single automobile moving; not only was there something that was moving on two wheels; there were not even parked automobiles; simply – no automobiles.
    Soon: I understood the state/position I was involved in, but I continued to sleep – I needed a rest from the yesterday’s exhausted and excessive mountaineering and: I set on a bench and was sitting and sitting and sitting until /rested/ I woke up – sitting if I say I will exaggerate this time on paper as well, so that’s why I will leave this story to lie for a certain time or to be at standstill.




/and/ When the pupils of the closed eyelids are moving
left-right-left-right…
– a dream –


    … This day is one of those days when people are killing each other. Alone or with someone else’s help. Alone themselves or someone; alone or with someone else’s help. It is sunny. The people are tightened in some /few/ walls and in themselves.
    I thought in a flash of this day when people are killing each other or themselves and me to… why not… Myself? Someone? Alone? With someone’s help?
    Too many questions for a single day, and actually I don’t even know whether there is a day which is not one of those days when people… were waging a war among themselves. With some people against some other people. A real small war. I was shooting. They were shooting. I was killing. They were killing. A single bullet didn’t shoot me. And there were fairly that were directed towards me. I wasn’t wearing a protective costume, but not a single one shot me. Just when I thought that it is possible one of them to shoot me when I was at least expecting to, after few days, maybe, all of a sudden – I don’t know – how – it came: a pause.
    In the pause: I took M’s gun who in the meantime had become a pacifist, and I went outside to kill birds – jackdaws, precisely. I was aiming at and firing at pigeons, by some unusual coincidence. I haven’t realized that my pupils are moving left-right-left-right. In a flight and on earth. I shot none of them, if necessary, for some preciseness to emphasize. I returned and I returned the gun to M. that immediately became my red umbrella. That is, usually, impossible, but I didn’t realize I was dreaming and that’s why I started to prepare lunch. Strange, but even then I didn’t realize that I was dreaming and that’s why I carried on. I didn’t realize that I was dreaming even when I baked bread and that’s why I stabbed it with knife several times. When I thought how much aggression there is in me – a swan flew over the sheet metal of the window – it became obvious to me that I was dreaming, or that’s what I wanted to believe in and – I woke up. M. remained in the kitchen making a salad. He sometimes did that and there was nothing unusual in that.
    … This day is still one of those days, so I decided to open a beer and to watch how some new flies in this-almost-summer are flying, when I will drink or while drinking it. I decided for the first alternative. When I drank the beer the flies were already flown out. Unknowably where. I no longer knew why – all– this and anyway – any sense – it has – it doesn’t have – any, so I lit a cigarette and I blew it in the last full stop of the last sentence. And then I realized that this not in the least resembles neither my style nor me and it has to quickly and effectively finish it. ● I put a full stop that surely was supposed to signify an end, I lit another cigarette and directed myself towards the other walls and between the other walls to see what is now M. doing.
    The thing that M. was doing wouldn’t be effective for any ending, but, he, still, can be said was pensively looking at my red umbrella. Then he directed himself towards the kitchen and opened a real Skopsko light beer.
    This fucking weather makes me, he said before I put the walkman on my ears. When I put it he said: depressed. Which weather he thinks of, I didn’t ask. I looked through the window and I knew it: the walls in which the people were tightened were sweating. /And/ Because: indescribably burdensome and creepy, I wanted, finally to finish this DREAM/this DREAM to finish too: then a swan flew down the sheet metal of the window; his light steps on the mentioned sheet metal could upset any asleep man and that’s why he will open his eyes.




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