a zagreb punk rocker off the streets


i woke up with a terrible headache this morning and the first thing i heard was there’s no coffee in the house. i immediately thought of my grandmother’s coffee in banja luka. black and strong, it doesn’t turn lighter even after you’ve added milk to it. there are many words i could use to describe this day but none of them are poetic or even nice. it is always like this when my mother goes away on a business trip to china. things sort of go downhill. andi it just gets worse as you realize there are three members of the tomovic’s bloodline on their own in the same apartment. no singing, no sexual harrasment. sometimes i think we’d be better off on our own. but it is a terrible thought because in a few years it’ll be me leaving it will just then when i am going to fully realize how much i will miss them.

it is only now that i’m starting to be aware of certain things. for example, how much i actually wish i had grown up in my hometown. or how i wish i was a student in my mother’s old gymnasium. i never thought about it before but as i walked the hallways of that institution with a friend of mine who is a student there, last month i actually began to think about it. what it would be like? what my life would be like? or sometimes i wish i had grown up in the capital of croatia. being real friends with her, getting to know her not just the glimpses i am being served through her journals and photographs. i’d probably date a zagreb punk rocker off the streets, going down the road further than my principles allow me to. is that what i wish my life was like? or is it just because it is an unknown part of all this? wouldn’t i miss out on the black magic night and all other things of hong kong lifestyle?

today, an afro american walked towards me in the opposite direction on the streets of mong kok and as we passed each other in different directions he smiled and said i love you do you love me? now we all realize that it meant absolutely nothing. there was no reaction from my side whatsoever. i didn’t even blink when he said it. but now as i am sitting here, sipping my black strong three-sugars coffee i’m actually thinking about it. what the fuck? is that what i am going to be getting from absolute strangers in the next twenty or so years? i’m not able to say that to the guy i’ve been in love with for 7+ years! how fucking pathetic is that? i mean, what’s the purpose of my life if i am subscribed to blogs like new year’s resolutions and make yourself a happy day!

and fuck all this. because to be honest these words were triggered by the fact that there was no coffee in the house the moment i woke up! is that what my life is about? drinking coffee, reading russian authors i don’t understand and writing this shit? not having anybody to hug and kiss when i come home? just the glassdoorknob? it’s not even depressing. it’s pathetic. i’m going to end up like the dude. he may be my hero, but it is getting too much, isn’t? but then i am still fine on my own. how can that be? am i going to be like the virgin queen? she definitely made her point: mother of all but i refuse to get married! jesus fucking quintana. and i need to start carrying around a big pack of panadols because this headache is killing me. i’m so dizzy i can’t even walk a straight line or get up too fast. i might just as well as lose it. but don’t let me be that pathetic. as soon as i took two pills the headache was gone almost immediately.

what’s the price of strawberries dipped in chocolate?


last night i walked the streets of mong kok again to langham place hoping i would be able to find a shop in which they sell fresh strawberries dipped in chocolate. i couldn’t find them nobody has them. would like you some strawberry ice cream? hopeless. my father was on his way from the airport express station having had said goodbye to his brother who left just last night. i’m realizing only now that i haven’t written anything about his stay. hopefully a couple of photographs should speak instead for me sometime soon. so i called him we were up for a drink at the road side bar. our favorite little jazz bar. we don’t go to maria’s anymore. it’s kind of a long story but if i wanted to put it shortly i’d say we just grew tired of going to the same place couple of times a week. which i think is an acceptable explanation.

at the road side bar i had couple of gin tonics, father and i talked like we haven’t in a while. as much as things sometimes get worse when my mother’s absent for couple of days, certain things also get better. we get to talk and have couple of drinks together. it’s not the same like when it’s all three of us and it’s completely different from an evening i would spend with my mother. i love both ways of spending my time with them but sometimes it’s better separately. it’s like we have our things we each other.

sometime past midnight we moved up the stairs to another bar which is owned by the same company. this place though has a live band and the whole interior is completely different from the 70s-hippie-rock-movie-icons style in the road side bar. the band upstairs consists of two afro americans playing drums and keyboards, two chinese-hong kong women singing the deepest soul i have ever heard and a hong kong guitarist and bassist. even though i didn’t see him so i’m not sure. it was amazing and refreshing to finally hear someone play. really play and know what they are doing. now, i had the same feeling about the band at maria’s and i don’t anymore, so i’ll try to disregard the change, which will happen in two months. but not now.

at the end, the drummer came up to me, kissed me on both cheeks and left me with a business card. i love you do you love me, part two. i would be missing out on a lot if i lived in banja luka. that’s for sure. and the guitarist came too and asked whether i played drums. i laughed and said no, not really. i just fake it in the air. i went to bed at five am. the headache i have now is nothing compared to the one i had yesterday. i guess it just gets better with each day. coffee time.

grammatical errors will be corrected later.