jimbo already didn´t distinguish day and night. he drank just in one piece. when he could not, so just dropped off. when he woke up, so he set into it again. he didn´t even pull off curtains. all he didn´t care what was happening outside. he didn´t go out among the people, he didn´t watch TV. when he needed booze, fags and chow, so he called me and i arranged everything. it was quite picky and, mainly in booze, he had very wide margin. vodka, port, small canned beer and especially red wine. he still managed drink out three or four liters a day. his favorite brand was brunello di montalcino by la poderino and because he was in the package (reportedly owned the wee butic winery in sonoma for rich guys), so he indulged it enough. cigarette, i took him down by boxes. he smoked lucky strike menthol (in ukraine, local people told him that it is bad for the heart and erection, but he pissed off at it). about the food, he didn´t care pretty much. he ate only fried eggs, pork paté, bread and green peppers. i used to come to his house reguraly on monday and friday. it always snubbed in front of the door. first time, he asked me just like the neighbor, if i hadn´t gone across the road to buy him some goods becouse of his sore legs (i just knes that his legs are allright but he didn´t want to see anyone and simply, he liked me) ... everytime he let me ten bucks and that was. i used to go to shopping to jj´s, own name mustafa, but somehow it did not work on my tongue. jj sold everything, even though i was only sixteen and i really looked at thirteen, but he didn´t care. well, he knew that all the stuff was for jimbo and additionally, he needed to pay the rent. one day, it was on friday, jimbo didn´t open. he died ... he said nothing to anyone and just winding his slippers. i went to jj, bought there a carton of lucky stricke menthol, six cans of beer and two bottles of red and then i told him that jimbo died. he said anything and took the change. i went to his shop anymore ...

this year i was forty and i stopped to pull out the curtains. sometimes, i think of jimbo's. outside hoots ambulance and i fill up the glass with la poderino .... life is crappy complicated and i slowly begin to loose the hope ... it's cause of the fucking winter or because that the radio plays very same shit..? with some exceptions lee fields and the expressions - never be another you



15 steps


we used to see each other infrequently, but every day i was looking forward to see her again. always boarded around seven thirty line 170. she stands by the window close to me, but not pretty close. just so that she could see me. in the face, she has such a cute little jerky movements that do not affect. these jerks are caused by nervous when you know that someone is looking at you. i know it's caused by my presence ... i liked that very much and try to be on top of things. when watching, so it with great sincerity watching. she's really beautiful. she often loosened her hair today (she always wears them closed in a bun) and had a great diopter glasses without diopters, images. she is probably high as me, has black eyes and her style is highly unusual. it's a mix of 90´s and some king of narrow-minded black elegance, but she knows how to wear it. she even can smiles, but she does not show it much often. only when she reads the mobile phone (maybe writes her musceling, „in money“ fella report on how it was nice in the morning). we stand close to each other, but I do not have the courage (all my life) to undertake anything. rather, i give a little time, because i feel that's going to be something bigger (one will recognize it), and frankly do i get quite scared about it. although we have finally wrapped up with my wife, i am still in a hope ... just give it time, just as it once must come. this is inevitable, as plain as a daylight. even before we meet, i bet what she will be. completely calmly it could be total, high and mighty cow, but i am almost one hundred percent reckon that she is not. on the contrary - it will be a very nice girl with a sense of humor, who likes to sleep in a tent in the summer time, use to go into the forest in the rain, instructed regularly contributes to a cat shelter, she likes schnitzels and sweet chocolate, and every wednesday evening and sunday morning she wants to fuck like a wild and she likes to experiment in this kind of human need.

wednesday morning was pretty disgusting. depending on the amount of puddles has been pissing all night. in the evening i didn´t drink much, but get up really did not want me. i listen to love/dead faces on tv and stuffed myself into a completely full bus. fucking driver would not let me in advance, although it through the back door really just could not cause of the people... i found a spot on the right side and inhaled a mixture of alcohol vapors, enough of a bad food and unpurifed teeth some elderly guy who's ridden by to the work ... but maybe not. hard to choose, but i was not totally one. but two stops i could survive. finally, i did not even wait for those two stops. guzzler got off at the first one. i was quite happy, although i actually felt good. he reminded me my dad… she was standing behind him and i sort of expected it. i thought that today i will not wait for anything, but in the end it was somehow it doesn´t matter. we left the bus and walked for a while just a few meters next to each other. then we spontally grabbed our hands. quite automatically, as if we were doing it this way since time immemorial. we did not talk at all. just looked at each other, she smiled and waved me at pimlico station and clearly i saw through the window she says she loves me.

i have never seen her anymore. it´s a shame, cause she was the one… i know it…



meat loaf

that big dog felt tough and so he was, but i know he only played that and he was fucked like every pooch from the street. he had nothing into his mouth, and if only anyone just gave him a little mercy, handing him a nice word and touched him, he would be his forever. his little brother, for the big one was everything in the world (he looked like mr. krontorad´s asta, just a bit more dirty and more lank) experienced things differently. he was very sensitive. little inferior, what would have loved curling in a state of panic, but he was not given and that´s not gonna happen - i can tell you at the outset. it was kind of a mix shaggy (mother and an unknown father, too) which nonobody wals him. additionally, he was tiny too much and could not bark. they two slept together in the bushes a short distance from the store where they all shouted at them both and occasionally stretch them after someone threw a rock or a stick. although the sea water was salty but the winter was quite warm, so they didin´t suffer from cold and sometimes even someone threw something to chow. mostly it was just an old hard bread, but both agreed that smoked eel was simply drained out of their life (their never ever ate it ..). neither of them had a name, and i saw them only once, but i named the rouhg one martin grof and the smaller one was simply jepeto, just like in that movie.

one beautifull morning, when the sun was rising and jepeto still asleep, martin grof went on a patrol, because he suspected that the beautiful whiteblack bitch next door was rutting. jepeto was a little kid, but martin grof already know how it works, and he desires. it was a relatively quiet street, which rode up to three cars a day. one of them was driven by baker gigi. the previous day he was drinking all night and he still felt cannonau by sellaimosca on his tongue. actually, he was still totally on rock, but the weekend was coming so he felt better. the radio was playing a real shit, so he decided for u remind me by röyksopp and hunted the cd at the back seat.

the front bumper hit martin grof exactly on the head, so it was quick.

jepeto woke up around seven and walked to safety. martin grof about that doggirl talked almost constantly. he found him under the withered olive. beside him lay a plastic bottle of soda water, rusted penlight and an old t-shirt with the fifa world cup italia 1990. he seemed to be asleep on the shirt, but it was over.

around him came across a smiling and suntanned bunch of boys and girls in shorts with bottles of cannonau by sellaimosca and rey ban sunglasses and jepeto remained alone on the street at the beginning of this beautifull summer. he was hungry and he was sad...



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