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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 65 | volume XII | March-April, 2009



                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 65March-April, 2009

A Warm Quiet Place

p. 1
Igor Isakovski

10 March 2009, 22:50

I was postponing for a long time starting this diary on the Apocalypses. I didn't want to mix prose and web codes, prose and tender specifications, prose and applications… And these latter ones pressured me to finish them. I even mentioned it to Primož that was late, that I was over the deadline, that I had not started to write yet. He didn't want to give up on me. So, here I am, I started. Although I wrote some poems these last days (I might attach some of them here), something pulled me to prose. A bit of prose, nothing pretentious, nothing significant. A bit of auto-therapeutic prose. To clear up my thoughts and get some breath.
    Hans wrote to me on 5 March. I only saw the message this evening. It got lost somewhere in the fucking junk folders. Hans wrote that Triztan Vindthorn had died suddenly. And that he was sad. Hans. That's it. I stare at the screen and I think that I shouldn't think. I should press delete and I should call Triztan. Ask him how he was, whether we'd meet in Norway or in Macedonia. Or somewhere third? At some warm quite place… And I know that Hans is right. Triztan is gone and we're sad. That's it. What more is there, once you think of it?
    These last days start unrolling. What do I have to write? What happened to me? What would really interest anybody? Nothing. Peanuts, as Giovanni would say in his next book of poetry. He sent me his final manuscript yesterday evening. I read it, we spoke a bit on the phone. I asked for more poems. He sent me some of the ones that had removed. The first one took me in immediately. We need to rework the book, remake it. It will be another good book. Giovanni is good. I like publishing good books. Even if they are not sold as the junk that they push under my nose. Let them. Those specifications, applications and other paraphernalia would cover for another book. Only one thing scares me: would I know how to be happy with them, from my heart and with a sip in my mouth? I published two in February: the third haiku book of Josip, the second book of poetry of Sash. I had so many things to settle that I did not even look

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