Monday, March 22, 2010

83 Eksperiment/Experi/ment/Eksperyment

To jest noc, pogoda jest okropny, deszcz, wyszystko deszcz. Warszawa masz najstraszny chumura. Niebieski na góry raz na rok.Wyszystko tygodniu na zima jest zimno. Bo dla czego podoba mi śien Warszawa?

It is the night, the weather is awful, rain, rain wyszystko. Warsaw najstraszny chumura you. Blue mountains once a week on rok.Wyszystko winter is cold.Because of what I like sien Warsaw?

It is night, the weather is awful, rain, only rain. Warsaw loves clouds. The sky is blue one week each year. Each winter is cold. So why do I like Warsaw?

Jest noc, pogoda jest okropna, deszcz, tylko deszcz. Warszawa kocha chmury.Niebo jest niebieskie jeden tydzień w roku. Każdej zimy jest zimno. Więc dlaczego, jak Warszawa?

Warszawa jest stary y masz drogie y dramatyczne fabula. Życie w to miasto, ty muszi wieć co to robisz. Od czas do czasu to nie jest włatwy. Tak mien z nami, pszypuszczam niema jeden sklep w Warszawa jak ma być dobre Bajgel. Coszmar...

Warsaw is an old dear s s have a dramatic storyline. Life in this city, you Mushi so what are you doing this. From time to time is not włatwy. Yes Mien us pszypuszczam silent one shop in Warsaw is to be as good Bajgel. Coszmar ...

Warsaw is an old dear and has a dramatic storyline. Life in this city, you must know what you are doing. Sometimes it is hard. By contrast, from time to time it is not easy. Between us, there is not one shop in Warsaw that sells a really good bagel. In my nightmares I smell a good bagel but I can never find it and eat it.

Warszawa jest stary kochany i dramatyczne historie. Życie w mieście, trzeba wiedzieć, co robisz. Czasami jest ciężko. Natomiast od czasu do czasu nie jest to łatwe. Między nami nie jednego salonu w Warszawie, który sprzedaje naprawdę dobry obwarzanek jest. W moich koszmarów czuję dobrze obwarzanek, ale nigdy nie mogę go znaleźć i zjeść.

Mieszkam w Warszawie dieszięć lat. Urodzyny w Istanbul, dwa-dzieszcza-pięc lat w Kanady. Mieszkam tylko w Stolicy. Cały życia, w Stolicy. Cały życia, w Kraj na czerwone y białe. Dlaczego jestem tutaj? Dlaczego teraz? Ja musi wieć odpowiedz do to pytanie. Nie wiem z kim jestem.

I live in Warsaw dieszięć years. Urodzyny in Istanbul, two-dzieszcza-five years old in Canada. I live only in the capital. Entire life in the capital. Entire life in the country on the red y white. Why am I here? Why now? I must therefore answer to this question. I do not know who I am.

I have lived in Warsaw ten years. I was born in Istanbul, I lived twenty-five years in Toronto, Canada. I have only lived in capital cities. My entire life in a capital city. My entire life in countries with only red and white in their flags. Why am I here? Why now? I must answer this question. I do not know who I am.

Mieszkam w Warszawie, dziesięć lat. Urodziłem się w Stambule, żyłem dwadzieścia pięć lat w Toronto, Kanada. Mam tylko mieszkał w stolicach. Moje całe życie w stolicy. Moje całe życie w krajach, tylko w białych i czerwonych flag. Dlaczego tu jestem? Dlaczego teraz? Muszę odpowiedzieć na to pytanie. Nie wiem, kim jestem.

Jestem Nauczyciel Angielski, to jest moj pierwszego fabula w Polskiego. Ale to nie jest fabula, to jest historia. Historia do moje najlepsze lektorze w Polskiego, ulice do Warszawie...

I'm the English teacher, this is my first story of Polish. But it is not drama, it is history. The history of my best lektorze in Polish, the streets of Warsaw ...

I'm an English teacher, this is my first story written in Polish. But it is not a drama, it is a history. The history of my best Polish teacher, the streets of Warsaw ...

Jestem nauczycielem języka angielskiego, to jest moje pierwsze opowiadanie napisane w języku polskim. Ale to nie jest dramat, to historia. Historia z moich najlepszych nauczycieli polskich, na ulicach Warszawy ...

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Sunday, March 21, 2010

84 The varnish of denial

In dedication to Miguel Da Conceicao, who conceived the title.

Frank kicked the empty bottle in the hallway and went looking for Mickey. The bottle spun and bounced back from the wall and clattered sharply on the hallway tiles. Frank gritted his teeth at the sound and kicked the bottle so hard it exploded in a shower of glass. Frank closed his eyes and looked away. One more hassle but he had felt good doing it. He checked everywhere, even under the couch. All he found was a single dirty sock. Mickey wasn't there. Just his mess. Frank couldn't put it off any longer, he called a locksmith and changed the locks.

Frank paid $200 to have a locksmith come that night. When it was done he paid up in cash and enjoyed the click of the new bolt sliding home. Only then did he start cleaning up. Working steadily. This was not his usual damage control but a real sanitation operation. From the grout-stained hallway tiles to the dust on the kitchen overhead lamp. When he slept, it was dreamless.


Mickey had scratched the heart out of the lock, but he hadn't so much as knocked, let alone tried the buzzer. Frank noticed the damage as he left for work at today's client. In his retirement years Frank had become a professional focus group participant. He hadn't gone looking, one day some consumer information company had called him up to tell him that he was a statistical normal. The caller told him statistical normals were exceedingly rare. Frank was about to object when he was offered $500 to join a focus group for the day.
Frank took the job. He worked an average of 4 days a month, it sufficed.

Mickey couldn't climb in from the balcony like at the last place because this time Frank was living on the fourth floor of a four floor walk up. Frank realised his mind had drifted, he had stopped cleaning, his mind preoccupied with Mickey and how to keep him out.

Frank got back to work.

When Frank was done he scrutinized his handiwork. Every surface was clean, there were no piles of papers, no empty bottles on the floor, no dirty socks under the couch, there was no evidence Mickey had ever been there.

It even smelled good. Good and empty. Frank fixed himself a supper of one and ate the leftovers for three days straight.

Each evening, when he came back to the apartment, everything was exactly where he'd left it that morning.

Frank started leaving his door unlocked.

In the end he was robbed and Mickey never came back.

Wednesday, March 03, 2010

85 One minute of one morning one day that I thought would never happen but it happened anyway

Waking, I went promptly back to sleep. No needs, warm, relaxed. Duties, none. Responsibilities, none. After many months of duress and a magician's-worth of juggled appointments, I had carved out this day for myself.

So I slept.