ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ

CHARACTERS


DINKA

DAMJAN

MORANA

EVA

MARTIN

MAMA

VANJA

TAMARA

BORIS

RANKO

LUKA

NIKOLA

HRVOJE

DENIS



TO BEGIN CLICK YOUR USER NAME


DINKA: A manifesto or a prayer... I can't tell... a very badly argumented, incoherent, unsubstantieted theoretical persuasion. Theses of no consequence, with no mercy, with no weight.

I'm not interested in truth.

I don't want to look at what I can see in the streets, I want to see what goes on under open umbrellas, under tired eyelids, under layers of self-defense, away from curious walls, what is not quite so big and what is special only in its short-lived fulness. Like people whom you meet once and don't get to know them more and don't get to know them better, people aboard the train from Zagreb to Place-you've-forgotten-the-name-of, if it even had a name in the dream, meaningless people that you've presented with a moment of your existence although then, not more than now, you knew not why. Throughout your entire life, you'll have this feeling that you owe them at least a round of drinks for showing you the turn that is neither left nor right, for showing you the direction you never would've found on your own. And you'll never know their phone number, the size of their shoes, the number of their traffic tickects or wrong life decisions. You were given all you needed to know. Because in that small part of universe you know everything that could be known, everything that's important.

And when you speak about them, through them, through me, the reality will gain credibility that only fiction has as of old because reality in itself is so fake, because it cannot happen to me. That's why I always write my personal fake (hi)stories. My fake personal (hi)stories.

I'm not interested in truth. Give me a total, stupid, conspicuous illusion. One that screams at the top of its lungs. One that incorporates me and saturates me. And then, make me believe. Make me believe that I'm the right one, the only one, the one that moves the universe in all its meaninglessness, make me believe that I'm the stem of every rule and the source point of every system. Only by me are the things distinguished. Only inside me they exist.

I'm not interested in truth. Because you're a lie the moment I speak of you, place you on stage, get you coffee or teach you another language, a new word, a new breath. You're a lie from beginning through to the end, brother, a lie, just as I am.



  1. OPEN NEW BLANK DOCUMENT


(Speed date.)


MARTIN: (pointing to the chair opposite Eva) Free?

EVA: Would I be here if I weren't?

MARTIN: Have you already found Mr.Right? I wouldn't want to make a fool out of myself with a come on if you're already engaged.

EVA: I'm never getting married.

MARTIN: Fantastic. You're right. Divorce is terribly expensive.

EVA: You agree, Mr...?

MARTIN: Martin. I mean, just Martin. My first name is Martin. (pause) I think we've already established a common streak that allows us to discuss things on a first name basis.

EVA: Oh, have we?

MARTIN: Of course. Otherwise, my name could be Mr.Perfect.

EVA: I'm not looking for Mr.Perfect.

MARTIN: Good, because they don't exist.

EVA: Really.

MARTIN: Which doesn't mean you shouldn't be looking for one.

EVA: And that would be today's lesson on following your dreams?

MARTIN: Just a piece of friendly advice.

EVA: Why?

MARTIN: Because I don't believe that you're not looking.

EVA: I'm not intersted in going down the deep. Everything turns out to be familiar, recognizable, already seen.

MARTIN: Isn't that exactly what you're looking for? Already discovered worlds. Well-founded and safe.

EVA: You're assuming a lot for somebody who's never seen me before.

MARTIN: What have I got to lose? All I have is a few minutes.

EVA: I don't want to be placed in some... pattern of yours. I'm different.

MARTIN: Of course. I'd never tell you I know your type.

EVA: But...

MARTIN: How do you know there's a but?

EVA: I'd never admit from where I know that there's always a but with people like you.

MARTIN: But my advantage is that I know how to deal with... that.

EVA: So do I. That's why I think this wouldn't work out.

MARTIN: Fair enough.

EVA: But...

MARTIN: But if you're not the type and I'm not the type, you never know.




DAMJAN: Whoooa... Haven't seen you in ages. Since school.

TAMARA: Oh, come on. It wasn't that long.

DAMJAN: You've changed.

TAMARA: Thank you. Was that a compliment?

DAMJAN: What are you doing here?

TAMARA: Actually, this was a birthday present. The guys didn't believe that I'd come on my own, so they dropped me off at the doorstep.

DAMJAN: I see.

TAMARA: What about you? As far as I can remember, you never had problems with women. Well, not with... finding one.

DAMJAN: Research.

TAMARA: Hmm.

DAMJAN: In fact... this is going to sound totally stupid, but... are you looking for a job?

TAMARA: Always.

DAMJAN: Then we'll have to meet again.

TAMARA: I can't give you my number. Rules.

DAMJAN: Tell me. I'll memorize it.

TAMARA: Yeah, right, you'll memorize it.

DAMJAN: I'm good with numbers, don't you remember.

TAMARA: Only too well.

DAMJAN: Hey, would you pick me... I mean... if I were here for real?

TAMARA: What do you think?




DAMJAN: Hello.

MORANA: Hi.

DAMJAN: Damjan.

MORANA: Morana.


(Damjan extends his hand to greet her, Morana takes it, then remembers something suddenly. She twiches her hand, but not firmly enough to free her hand.)


MORANA: This is...

DAMJAN: What? Tell me.

MORANA: Never mind. Forbidden.

DAMJAN: (still holding her hand) Sorry.

MORANA: It's ok.


(He lets go of her hand, slowly.)


DAMJAN: So, let's move on to verbalization.

MORANA: That's how it usually goes.

DAMJAN: Sex first, talk later?

MORANA: How do you know that I'm not some kind of religious fanatic who'd dismiss you on account of what you've just said?

DAMJAN: I took my chances. You started it. I've nothing to lose.

MORANA: So, it's my fault.

DAMJAN: All of it. If only we'd met in a bar.

MORANA: Is that your pick-up line?

DAMJAN: No. I'm honest. Always. Almost always.

MORANA: Then you must be extremely embarassed by this, because as a male of the species, you're not used to being a market good.

DAMJAN: Where does this cynical feminism come from? You don't look like that. Your defense system?

MORANA: There's nothing to defend myself from.

DAMJAN: See, you got it. I'm not dangerous.

MORANA: No, but potentially, you could be.

DAMJAN: Only to myself.

MORANA: You think so? And what would've happened if we'd met in a bar.

DAMJAN: You'd be with your girlfriends and I'd never come near you.

MORANA: Then why did you say it?

DAMJAN: Don't know. Because. No reason. It just seems it would've been easier.

MORANA: What, if you'd never have come near me and we'd never have met?

DAMJAN: Look, I cannot really explain it... I don't think you quite understand the circumstances of our conversation.

MORANA: And you wouldn't even try to explain it?

DAMJAN: I prefer to be mysterious.

MORANA: Why do you think I don't have circumstances of my own.

DAMJAN: Oh, you women always have circumstances.

MORANA: This is getting back at me for the good on the market.

DAMJAN: I'd never forgive myself had I missed the opportunity to do so.

MORANA: Good, then.


(Pause.)


DAMJAN: I believe we've taken a wrong direction.

MORANA: Lets do the formalities.

DAMJAN: OK. What do you do when you're not out in bars with your girlfriends?

MORANA: I make a living. It's an expensive habit, going out to bars.

DAMJAN: Ever since school, I presume.

MORANA: Yes.

DAMJAN: Ok, do I really have to ask everything? Which school?

MORANA: I graduated in psy... sound engineering. What about you?

DAMJAN: Well, I studied to be a vet... but then I had to admit to myself I dislike dogs. So I transferred. To marine biology.

MORANA: You don't like dogs.

DAMJAN: No, I'm more of a cat person.

MORANA: I've got a cat.

DAMJAN: What kind of a cat?

MORANA: An orange tabby.

DAMJAN: Like in Breakfast at Tiffany's.

MORANA: Our conversation's starting to sound like that stupid song...

DAMJAN: Excuse me?

MORANA: (singing) And I said what about Breakfast at Tiffany's, she said I think I remember the film...

DAMJAN: Oh, yeah.

MORANA: You like films?

DAMJAN: Very much.


(Pause.)


MORANA: (breaking out in laughter) Never thought I'd sing.

DAMJAN: Another wrong direction.

MORANA: In a one-way street.

DAMJAN: No way one-way.


(Laughter.)


EVA: You don't belong here.

BORIS: How do you know?

EVA: Are you... bound?

BORIS: Never. And always ready to experiment, especially when someone sees through me that fast.

EVA: I love it when people are easy to agree with.

BORIS: I want to go out for coffee with you... on an open terrace, where we can check the butt of a gorgeous waiter together.

EVA: And I love it even more when they're so forward. I have one question, though.

BORIS: Shoot.

EVA: Why?

BORIS: Curiosity. You?

EVA: Restlessness.

BORIS: I think we're a perfect couple. Just don't tell the others.



(Tamara and Martin look at each other without words for about a minute.)


MARTIN: This would never work.

TAMARA: Thank god you said it first!




BORIS: Wow.

MORANA: Jesus, Boris!

BORIS: Only Boris, thank you. I've discovered your dirty little secret. You organised this thingy for yourself.

MORANA: I'd love to throw myself at you, but I'm not allowed.

BORIS: It's good to see you.

MORANA: What are you doing here?

BORIS: You know I'm open to new things.

MORANA: But I thought you were...

BORIS: Open to new things, I said. New people. Even women. Now, what are you doing here?

MORANA: You mustn't tell anyone. One of the women never showed up so somebody had to step up... for the number to be even.

BORIS: And it just happened to be the big boss herself...

MORANA: Not a word to anyone.

BORIS: You know me.

MORANA: Exactly.

BORIS: Tell me something. Does this pay off? I could open an agency of my own...

MORANA: Have I ever done anything that doesn't?

BORIS: Personally or professionally? Do you really want me to answer that?

MORANA: I love you.

BORIS: I know. Too bad you're female.

MORANA: I thought you said it didn't matter.

BORIS: Starting from tomorrow. You know my life always starts tomorrow.

MORANA: So this is an investment in future?

BORIS: Can you recommend somebody?

MORANA: I spoke only to men.

BORIS: So? Can anyone be tamed?

MORANA: How about you recommend a woman for me? I think I'm giving up men.

BORIS: Told you that you organised this thing for yourself. Tsk, tsk. Oh, well. As long as you're making profits from your own misfortune as well as other people's.



EVA: (looking at Damjan's name tag) Nice name.

DAMJAN: My family name's even better, if you're interested.

EVA: I'm not looking for a husband. And I'm not that intersted in first names either, I just wanted to start a conversation.

DAMJAN: Why are you not interested?

EVA: It's easy to forget what you never heard.

DAMJAN: Oh, is that so?

EVA: OK, let's cut it short: my name is Eva, I'm 27, I'm not looking for marriage or relationship but a little fun. And I'm not ashmed to try out every possible thing, including blind dating, agencies, internet, whatever... that would be my confession of the day, Father.

DAMJAN: I'm a film director, I'm making a documentary about dating agencies and I wouldn't go out with you, not because I find you unattractive, but because you're much more interesting to have in my film. And because I'm not here to find a soulmate.

EVA: Contrary to popular opinion, I'd have to say that honesty is an overrated virtue.

DAMJAN: I second that.

EVA: So... nothing, then?

DAMJAN: Actually, I could use you a bit. If you'd like.

EVA: Yes?

DAMJAN: Would you consider getting together with some guys you met on the internet? I mean, as research...

EVA: And here I thought you'd changed your mind. Too bad. Such a good-looking guy and you think only about work.



  1. LOADING YOUR PERSONAL SETTINGS


VANJA: Off you go. It's late.

MORANA: I have to finish up something.

VANJA: You workaholic. Did you get a look at yourself in the mirror?

MORANA: Do I really look that tired?

VANJA: Yes. And you’re doing silly things.

MORANA: If by that you mean my entering the game, I was trying to save some dignity of the agency.

VANJA: It could happen in any other agency, somebody not showing up.

MORANA: Not the first time.

VANJA: Especially because it’s the first time.

MORANA: Not in front of the media people. We’re lucky that TV crews didn’t come as they announced.

VANJA: So, what’s it like?

MORANA: What?

VANJA: What’s it like from the inside? To rotate ten guys in an hour?

MORANA: Weird. Especially if one of them is Boris.

VANJA: I forgot to tell you.

MORANA: No, you didn’t. You sent me out of the trench unprepared deliberately.

VANJA: OK, I did. But you should have known that our beloved colleague would come to check up on us at some point.

MORANA: You’re enjoying this.

VANJA: It was all done for the good of the service. I think it’s good you tested it on yourself. Now we can have some real feedback.

MORANA: What, I have to write a report? Only if you try it too.

VANJA: No way.

MORANA: You wouldn’t apply?

VANJA: Never.

MORANA: Then how do you make uncertain people believe that it’s great?

VANJA: I have a big mouth. Like you have to believe in it.

MORANA: You don’t believe in what you say?

VANJA: As a matter of fact, no. It’s strictly business.

MORANA: I believe it. When I say it’s great for people who don’t have much time, of course I also talk about myself.

VANJA: But would you apply?

MORANA: I don’t know. Probably not now. But ask me again in five years.

VANJA: There you go again.

MORANA: There I go again. It’s easy for you to say.

VANJA: Marko moved out.

MORANA: Jesus. When?

VANJA: This morning. Says that we’re moving too fast and that he needs space, time, air… all that crap…

MORANA: Fuck.

VANJA: Well, it’s nothing final. Although naively, I believe he will come to his senses in the end.

MORANA: When they start throwing round big words like suffocation, it’s usually too late.

VANJA: How comforting of you.

MORANA: I’m just being realistic.

VANJA: Why are you so distrustful towards them? And always so calm and composed. You never scream, never make a scene. As if you couldn’t care less.

MORANA: Because it’s easier that way. For everyone involved.

VANJA: For a psychologist, you really suck at accepting human weakness.

MORANA: Is that why you never come to cry on my shoulder?

VANJA: No, I just rationalize things using summary procedure, just as you do. By the time I get to you, I’ve already resolved everything with myself, and then I can only speak about it through a certain … haze. It becomes a memory.

MORANA: One that bothers you no longer.

VANJA: I convince myself of that.

MORANA: And I always have a good reason.

VANJA: You mean justification.

MORANA: No, I mean a reason. That is exactly the difference.

VANJA: I know. But it’s good to indulge in a little self-criticism on that matter from time to time.

MORANA: (laughing) I think one could make decent money solely on people from the business. Do you see what a task a colleague of ours would have take upon only with the two of us? (pause) I think I’ll continue psychoanalysing myself on my way home. Are you ok?

VANJA: Yeah. I’ll follow you. I just have to type in some of the results.

MORANA: What, you’re done with it?

VANJA: Yes.

MORANA: Let me see.

VANJA: Tomorrow. Enough work for today. Try to worry about your private life for a change.

MORANA: What private life? Come on, I’m curious.

VANJA: There, these are all the questionnaires. Except for yours.

MORANA: Mine’s on the desk.

VANJA: You have one empty column. (pause, she suddenly realises what it’s about) Whoa. You weren’t really considering it.

MORANA: I wasn’t.

VANJA: You’re lying.

MORANA: Ok, I was. Give me the paper.

VANJA: Fill it in, go on. Honestly.

MORANA: Vanja, it was a moment of madness.

VANJA: Fill it in.

MORANA: No. I’m going home.

VANJA: Go then. Just so that you know, he also had a moment of madness.

MORANA: What are you talking about?

VANJA: The only x in his paper is under your name.


(Vanja leaves, Morana stays behind her, confused, but she cannot hide a smile that appears on her face.)



  1. FOR EXIT, PRESS Esc


(Eva is alone.)


EVA: I’m sorry… It’s just me. I don’t fall in love. No, it’s not your fault. It was beautiful. I’m sorry, but I can’t stay. Sorry.


(Martin enters, quietly, behind her back.)


EVA: It has such a god damn hollow ring to it…


(She tries a little less humbly.)


EVA: Look, you weren’t expecting we’d be getting engaged now? How come same rules don’t apply for women as for men? Fuck emotions; come on, who’s ever heard of that? Oh please… Perhaps we’ll meet over a cup of coffee, somewhere, someday.

MARTIN: Perhaps.


(Eva stiffens.)


MARTIN: You don’t have to be afraid. I’m not leaving.

EVA: Sorry?

MARTIN: I’m not like that. I don’t know what kind of guys you met up until now, but I’m not like that.

EVA: I don’t think we understood each other here.

MARTIN: (closing in on her) And I thought we were on the same wave-length…

EVA: Wait.

MARTIN: Why?

EVA: I’d like to finish this conversation.

MARTIN: I’m not really in the mood for conversation.

EVA: (trying to step aside) Let go of me.

MARTIN: You’re going?

EVA: I’m going.

MARTIN: You don’t have to defend yourself. Really, I’m not leaving.

EVA: Defend myself? What are you talking about?

MARTIN: Well, that stupid rationalizing you’re doing now. As in, “I don’t have a problem with guys leaving in the morning”.

EVA: Well, I don’t.

MARTIN: Yes, of course.

EVA: If only they would leave… without a word. What I hate most are those discussions, without meaning, for no real reason, I don’t get it – what kind of a stupid need compels you to do it. And then there are apologies… I’m never sorry, I’m just sorry it takes so long to end it.

MARTIN: There, you see.

EVA: There, I see what?

MARTIN: You hate departures.

EVA: I hate unnecessary talk, not departures. I hate everything I planned to tell you.

MARTIN: Because it’s a bunch of clichés.

EVA: I don’t know why I didn’t run away. Why something always makes me stay long enough to say them.

MARTIN: Tell me if it will make it easier for you. Say it to my face, now.

EVA: Why do you think it will be easier?

MARTIN: Because it will look as if you threw me out, as if you wanted me to leave.

EVA: But I do want you to leave.

MARTIN: Come on, tell me.

EVA: You heard it already.

MARTIN: No, tell me. I want to answer you.

EVA: Stop playing games. It’s not amusing.

MARTIN: What are you so scared of? How many times do I have to tell you I’m not going to run away?

EVA: I really want you to go, why don’t you understand?!

MARTIN: Eva…

EVA: Hey, are you listening to me? I don’t want a fucking relationship! Not with you, not with anybody else. What do you want me to tell you? That I have a date tonight?

And tomorrow? With two different men?

MARTIN: That’s what you’ve been planning to tell me?

EVA: No. It’s none of your business. And I don’t want you to take it as an excuse.

MARTIN: You want me to take it seriously?!

EVA: That’s why I’m telling you to go and leave me alone.

MARTIN: Then say it.

EVA: I said it!!! At least three times already!!!

MARTIN: Not like that. I don’t believe you.

EVA: Look, that’s your problem, not mine!

MARTIN: Tell me in a way I can believe you. In a way that it doesn’t sound like a stupid cliché you use in order to preserve your self-dignity.

EVA: I want you to disappear. Now, at once, here. I want you to vaporize. To beam yourself up, like in fucking Star Trek. I wish you weren’t here. Or that I weren’t.

MARTIN: And you wish this never happened. You wish to wake up and remember nothing of it.

EVA: You make it banal. You are the one turning it into a sorry cliché. And it always happens. Why is it that nobody understands I like playing solo?!


(Pause.)


MARTIN: I see, but I don’t understand. Tell me about it.

EVA: Let’s try like this. Hypothetically, if I told you to get your stuff and disappear, what would you say?

MARTIN: This is my apartment. Your clothes are on the chair.


(He exits.)


EVA: I never talk about it. I have no need to discuss it with you. And I never fall in love. Not ever.



  1. START UP


DAMJAN: Are you romantic?

MORANA: Romantic? I don’t know. Not really. Or, I am a little. Maybe. I guess I am. Is there a right answer?

DAMJAN: Have you ever asked yourself that?

MORANA: Many times.

DAMJAN: So? What is the right answer?

MORANA: No way.

DAMJAN: Then you are.

MORANA: Yeah. I am. Phew. I am.

DAMJAN: So how come you went to the agency? You should believe in fate and wait for your knight in shining armour.

MORANA: Well, I met you, and your car, which is quite shiny by the way, seems to be a much improved means of transport if you compare it to a trusty steed. Haven’t I got all I ever wanted?

DAMJAN: What do you really want?

MORANA: You think I can answer that without making it a tractate after which you’ll run like hell? And why do you keep asking me all these questions?

DAMJAN: Because I don’t understand you completely.

MORANA: You don’t understand me? Tough luck. That’s what I’m looking for.

DAMJAN: You’ll have to lower your criteria.

MORANA: You think I should?

DAMJAN: If you’re asking as a friend, no, I don’t think you should, it’s not good to reduce your expectations.

MORANA: We’ll never be friends.

DAMJAN: That’s what you say at the end of a relationship.

MORANA: No, at the end you say: it would be great if we stayed friends.

DAMJAN: But nobody really thinks that.

MORANA: Yes, it’s interesting how unoriginal people become when it comes to that. But it does happen to some people, staying friends I mean. Or becoming friends.

DAMJAN: Has it happened to you?

MORANA: Never.

DAMJAN: Me neither.

MORANA: It’s how we both know we’d never be friends.

DAMJAN: You’re already discussing breaking up and we haven’t really started anything. Wait a couple of days. Out of courtesy. Or consideration to my mental health.

MORANA: Why? Is there something wrong with you?

DAMJAN: I’ve fallen in love.

MORANA: Oh good. And I thought it was something curable.

DAMJAN: Now that sounded really defeatist.

MORANA: Haven’t I just confessed I’m romantic to the bone? And how do you start anyway?

DAMJAN: Truthfully, I have no idea. Should we sign some kind of contract? No lawyers, so it doesn’t cost us anything.

MORANA: You think all of this is going to cost us nothing?


(Laughter. Damjan leans towards her abruptly and kisses her. They kiss for a long time, at first passionately, then it turns gentle. They come closer, inch by inch, so they are hugging by the end of the kiss. Morana breaks apart, they both remain standing a bit taken aback, resisting looking at each other.)


MORANA: OK, this should cover the down payment.

DAMJAN: Forgive me, I just couldn’t hold out anymore.

MORANA: I’ll forgive you. But just this once.

DAMJAN: And lower your criteria just this once.

MORANA: You think you’re good enough for me?

DAMJAN: Definitely.

MORANA: Oh that I believe.

DAMJAN: You want to come to my place?

MORANA: You’re joking.

DAMJAN: I am joking. But I wouldn’t object. Sweet dreams. Mine will be of you.

MORANA: Good night.


(He exists.)


MORANA: And that’s how you start.


  1. INSERT COMMENTS


EVA: So? Any significant change in the past few days?

BORIS: None whatsoever.

EVA: Too bad. And to think I kept hoping…

BORIS: Why? Mr. Perfect didn’t work out?

EVA: It’s finished with Mr. Perfect. Because of me.

BORIS: Because you freaked out at the face of perfection?

EVA: Because I acted as I always act in a situation completely out of my experience.

BORIS: If I understood right, you acted wrong?

EVA: Not wrong. Stupid.

BORIS: And?

EVA: And nothing. He never called back.

BORIS: Perhaps he’s waiting for you to call him.

EVA: Not a chance.

BORIS: Ok.

EVA: It’s not ok.

BORIS: Well you said you’re not looking for a long term relationship.

EVA: But I’m not ready for not being called back.

BORIS: Did the others call you?

EVA: Not always.

BORIS: It’s not the first time, then?

EVA: No.

BORIS: So where’s the problem?

EVA: I don’t know. That’s why I’m upset!

BORIS: Did you notice our date turned into therapy? I am a psychologist, but I usually charge for it.

EVA: I’m sorry. No more.


(Pause. They’re both quiet for a while.)


BORIS: Hey, but if you don’t confide in me, we have nothing to talk about. I’m a gay psycho chatterbox.

EVA: I was waiting for you to start.



  1. IMPORT LINK


EVA: Hi.

HRVOJE: Hi.

EVA: I’m Eva.

HRVOJE: Hrvoje.


(Pause.)


HRVOJE: So, are we going to your place?

EVA: Wouldn’t you… err… like to go for a cup of coffee first?

HRVOJE: Why waste time and money on such things when we met for something else? Look, I like you, let’s do it.

EVA: I’m sorry, I can’t do it like this…

HRVOJE: Ok, no problem. I’ve got another appointment in an hour anyway. Bye.


(Eva stays behind confused.)


  1. COPY-PASTE


EVA: Hi.

DENIS: Hi.

EVA: I’m Eva.

DENIS: Denis.


(Pause.)


DENIS: I’m really glad we met.


(He gives her flowers.)


EVA: Thank you.

DENIS: I didn’t have time to buy a ring.

EVA: Ring? What ring?

DENIS: Didn’t we arrange everything over the Internet?

EVA: Wouldn’t you… err… like to go for a cup of coffee first?

DENIS: I have to get married urgently. That’s why I contacted the agency.

EVA: I’m sorry, I can’t do it like this…

DENIS: Oh boy. You were by far the prettiest on my list.



  1. DELETE COMMENTS


BORIS: Where on earth did you pick up such loons?

EVA: All the normal guys are gay.

BORIS: That’s true.

EVA: So what now?

BORIS: Why don’t you call Martin? He seems like the only decent shot you’ve got.

EVA: You’re lucky I’m not paying you for this.

BORIS: I’d tell you that even if you were paying me.

EVA: But then I wouldn’t take you seriously. And I take this, because you don’t have some sort of dirty plan lurking from the shadows.

BORIS: So, what’s it going to be?

EVA: You win. I’ll call him.



9. AUTOSUMMARIZE


DINKA: A lie, just as truth, is only a construct. Had I felt your mistrust at any moment, I would’ve come up with something new, something truer. Imagining the truth is easiest. It is so incredible that anything goes.

As rivers have their streams, the truth always runs to the rivermouth, never to the spring. And it is so easy to drown in a shapeless mass at the rivermouth. Lies are easier. A lie has to concentrate at one point that prevents it from scattering. That prevents it from being forgotten.

I want to be the source point.


  1. DETECT AND REPAIR


MUM: (dropping papers on the table) You live in an imaginary world.

DINKA: You read my script?!

MUM: You left the computer on.

DINKA: You even printed it out!

MUM: I’m concerned about you.

DINKA: I’m not trying to be realistic.

MUM: But you write about real people.

DINKA: So what? There’s only one truth?

MUM: You think there can be more than one?

DINKA: You should know best.

MUM: What are you talking about?

DINKA: Never mind.

MUM: Dinka, tell me if you’re accusing me of something!

DINKA: I’m not accusing you. Leave me alone. I have nothing to say to you.

MUM: I’m fed up with your behaviour. You sit in front of your computer all the time, and when you speak to me, it’s not because you want to have a conversation, but to start a fight.

DINKA: Please, get out my room.

MUM: I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.

DINKA: Get out.

MUM: Stop it.


(Dinka is quiet for a second or two and then explodes. They’re both screaming at each other.)


DINKA: Get out! Get out I said! I’m so sick of you rummaging through my stuff and sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong!

MUM: Watch that attitude, young lady!

DINKA: I’ve had enough! I can’t listen to you anymore! You’re always nagging! But my script is just that, MY script, and it’s off limits! I don’t care what you think about it! You’re the great liar!

MUM: I’ll slap you!

DINKA: Go on, hit me! Go on! Who’s going to hurt more?


(Mum doesn’t know what to say and retreats.)


MUM: You’ll be sorry for this.


(Mum exits.)


DINKA: That’s because I’m an ill-mannered brat without a father. And that’s your fault, too.

11. FOR HELP, PRESS F1


(Morana and Damjan on the phone. They’re not aware of the fact that they’re actually divided only by a door.)


MORANA: Hey, I’ve been meaning to call you.

DAMJAN: You’re late again?

MORANA: No, actually, I forgot about… a client. Can we meet later?

DAMJAN: Of course. That’s why I called you, actually. Something came up. I’ll call you later.

MORANA: Ok.

DAMJAN: Can I blow you a kiss over the phone today? Exceptionally.

MORANA: You better not. I can’t afford not to be able to concentrate just now.

DAMJAN: Ok, now my hold over myself is out the window.

MORANA: Yeah?

DAMJAN: I have a vivid imagination. Very vivid.

MORANA: Call me, oh you imaginative one. Bye.

DAMJAN: Bye.


(Vanja enters.)


VANJA: They’re here.

MORANA: I can’t believe I forgot they were coming.

VANJA: Lovesick puppy. You think only about texting.

MORANA: You’re jealous.

VANJA: No, I’m just happy for you. You’ll be sorry anyway, two of these guys are real hunks.

MORANA: Which two?

VANJA: The director and the camera operator. The director’s your type, definitely.

MORANA: (not even trying to sound convincing) Well. Too bad.

VANJA: You have no idea exactly how happy I am for you.


(She goes to the door.)


VANJA: Ok, guys, we’re ready. Please, come in.


(They come in, Damjan spots Morana, they both freeze, the others don’t even notice it.)


VANJA: This is my partner, Morana. Morana, these are Damjan, Ranko, Luka and… Nikola.

MORANA: (barely able to speak) Hi.

RANKO: Hello. What we’d like to do today is a short interview with you. You know, the basics, who, what, why. And then we’ll come back to haunt you when you organise the next meeting. Damjan?

DAMJAN: Mmm, yes. You said everything. Luka?

RANKO: You’re really talkative today.

LUKA: (arranging his gear) You want it shot from here?

DAMJAN: Great.

VANJA: Should we sit down or something?

DAMJAN: Right, sure.

NIKOLA: Would you?


(He gives a small mic to Damjan and takes another towards Vanja. Damjan is forced to look at Morana.)


DAMJAN: May I?

MORANA: (ironically) Of course.


(Damjan’s hands shake while he tries to fix the mic on her.)


MORANA: I’ll do it.

RANKO: Damjan, will you be asking the questions? You have them.

DAMJAN: OK.

RANKO: Why don’t you explain everything to the girls?

DAMJAN: Oh, right, yeah. Just answer in full sentences. Meaning if I ask what’s a speed date, you say speed date is etc, etc.

RANKO: So we can edit it later without questions.

NIKOLA: Girls, talk to me.

VANJA: Blah, blah, blah…

NIKOLA: Ok. Morana?

MORANA: I don’t know what to say.

VANJA: Well that’s strange.

MORANA: You’re really something, you know.

NIKOLA: Enough for me.

DAMJAN: Good. Ready?

NIKOLA: Yeah.

LUKA: Ready.

DAMJAN: Roll.

LUKA: Rolling.

DAMJAN: So, what is speed dating?

VANJA: Speed dating is a system used for introducing potential partners. We bring ten men and ten women together on a sort of blind date in a nice environment, such as a café or something and we give the each six minutes to introduce themselves to every member of the opposite sex. The whole thing lasts for an hour, and after that people choose whether and who they might want to meet again.

MORANA: We’re basically a dating agency, we just introduced a system that was unknown in this area.

VANJA: Many people have professional lives which leave them very little time off…

MORANA:… and that makes meeting somebody you could eventually have a relationship with almost impossible. Working hours are longer…

VANJA: … phones and Internet lines phase out the need to leave your house at all…

MORANA:… and people are often neglecting their private lives. That’s why we decided to organise something that could help all these too-busy-to-have-a-life people. When they come to the agency, they have to fill out a detailed questionnaire we use to separate them into different age, interest… and other groups. The rest is just luck.

RANKO: All right, this was very business-like, you answered everything even before we asked the questions.

VANJA: Sorry. It’s a habit. We’ve been telling the same story for two months.

DAMJAN: Are we done for today?

RANKO: I’d like to ask a few more questions if you don’t mind. Girls, can we relax a bit?

VANJA: Sure.

RANKO: What was the first meeting like?

VANJA: It went surprisingly well. We thought people would be a bit shy in the beginning and that it might not work, but obviously the group that went for it had no problem with it, and we’re pretty satisfied.

RANKO: So, soul mates found their way to each other already.

VANJA: It could be said.

RANKO: Morana, what do you think about it? In private?

MORANA: Well… I believe that in the times when we can’t just sit and wait around for fate to bestow us with something, all help is welcome. Which, of course, is no guarantee that such a relationship would work, even if it got off. Humans are complicated beings, they always find obstacles. This is easier because you can skip a nauseating part of getting to know someone and I-like-you/I-like-you-not start-up.

RANKO: You don’t believe in love that lurks from around the corner and starts with a supernova explosion?

VANJA: I don’t believe in any love that’s not firmly grounded.

MORANA: I’m not sure I believe in love at all. But relationships are definitely hard work.

RANKO: What’s the most important thing for a sound relationship?

MORANA: Honesty, absolutely.

VANJA: No honesty, no trust, no trust…

RANKO: Would you place your destiny in the hands of an agency?

VANJA: I think so.

MORANA: It’s always good to stir things a bit, get off the track. It would be a nice experiment. You can find out many interesting things about yourself.

VANJA: Yes, when you have to introduce yourself in a very short time, you usually find out your life is so not specific.

MORANA: And that perhaps you made yourself believe some pretty wild truth.

RANKO: Basically, you’d recommend this to anyone who’s into soul searching.

VANJA: Something like that.

RANKO: Ok, that’s enough for me. Damjan.

DAMJAN: If you found yourself in a situation where a person you fancied walked into your agency, what would you do?

VANJA: Get a phone number, of course.

DAMJAN: Morana?

MORANA: The same as with everybody else. A job is a job.

DAMJAN: No exceptions.

MORANA: I don’t like to make general statements.

DAMJAN: But basically, you couldn’t fancy somebody who’s come as a candidate.

VANJA: Luckily, it hasn’t happened.

MORANA: Basically.

DAMJAN: You said that honesty is the most important thing for a relationship.

MORANA: (pause) Yes.

DAMJAN: But it is well known that people often lie at first encounters with potential partners, they try to improve their image.

MORANA: Yes, it’s perfectly normal.

DAMJAN: So what if a relationship is started on such false grounds, with some white lies? Is there a chance for such a relationship?

MORANA: I don’t know.

RANKO: Damjan, are you through?

DAMJAN: One more. How can you reconcile your private and professional life when love is ordered here as an instant coffee variety?

VANJA: I can’t. But Morana manages somehow.

MORANA: With great sacrifice.

DAMJAN: Ranko? I’m ok.

RANKO: Girls, I’ll have to come in for a little soul searching.

VANJA: Come for a private session. Who knows what we could dig up.

RANKO: It’s a deal. And don’t be angry with us, we had to get some juicy footage. So, see you next week?

VANJA: I’ll call you when I find out the exact date.

RANKO: Great.

LUKA: Would anyone care for a drink? There’s a great bar just around the corner, and you could give us some really juicy stuff. Off the record, of course.

DAMJAN: I have… something… sorry.

RANKO: Oh, right, our director is the only one with a private life.

MORANA: And we have work to do.

RANKO: Then we won’t bother you anymore.

VANJA: Next time, it’s a date.

RANKO: Ok, see you. Bye.


(The crew exists.)


VANJA: What work?

MORANA: That was Damjan.

VANJA: Yes, I know.

MORANA: The Damjan.

VANJA: Oh. Shit.


(outside)

RANKO: (to Damjan) What the fuck is wrong with you today?



  1. ALWAYS CREATE BACKUP COPY


(Doorbell rings.)

TAMARA: Whoa, a bottle of wine? Are you trying to bribe me because I spent the whole day viewing footage?

DAMJAN: And is it good?

TAMARA: You’ve been known to work better.

DAMJAN: Thanks a lot.


(Damjan kisses her.)


TAMARA: What’s that perfume?

DAMJAN: What perfume?

TAMARA: A female perfume.

DAMJAN: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

TAMARA: Take a sniff at yourself, Damjan.

DAMJAN: I don’t know. Must be my sister’s, I met her earlier.

TAMARA: Right.

DAMJAN: Come on.

TAMARA: How come I don’t believe you.

DAMJAN: I don’t know, how come?

TAMARA: Because you pulled that shit once already. Back at school.

DAMJAN: I beg your pardon?

TAMARA: You don’t even remember. Never mind. I’m not about to go digging in the past. I want to know about this one. Who is she?

DAMJAN: Tamara, get real, this is not funny.

TAMARA: You’re right, I don’t find it amusing at all!

DAMJAN: Relax. Have a little wine.

TAMARA: Is she the one you have across all of today’s shots?

DAMJAN: (startled) I have no idea what you’re talking about.

TAMARA: I’ve seen the way she looked at you. And what were those questions really about?

DAMJAN: You’re crazy!

TAMARA: I’m crazy? You’re the one who brought the wine and is trying to avoid conversation!

DAMJAN: Just because I don’t want to talk about this right now you automatically conclude I’m cheating on you? You should be committed.

TAMARA: Are you cheating on me?

DAMJAN: Jesus!

TAMARA: Will you be honest, just once.

DAMJAN: I’m always honest.

TAMARA: Don’t give me that shit.

DAMJAN: Calm down.

TAMARA: I won’t calm down! What was I thinking, getting involved with you again? Take your bloody wine and get out!

DAMJAN: Tamara!

TAMARA: Out!


(She pushes him out the door. He comes back after a second.)


DAMJAN: There was no perfume, right?

TAMARA: Right.



  1. EXPLORE


(Eva wakes up in Damjan’s arms.)


EVA: Good morning.

DAMJAN: I’m awake.

EVA: And you’re leaving.

DAMJAN: Sorry.

EVA: I knew yesterday it was a mistake.

DAMJAN: Was it that bad?

EVA: No. But you’re no good at mixing business with pleasure.

DAMJAN: How do you know?

EVA: You don’t remember? You told me the sorry tale of Morana.

DAMJAN: Damn alcohol. You’re not mad?

EVA: Why should I be? I told you everything about Martin.

DAMJAN: I can’t remember anything, sorry.

EVA: Perhaps it’s better you can’t. You’d think I was pathetic.

DAMJAN: Do you think I’m pathetic?

EVA: Pretty much.

DAMJAN: Didn’t you once tell me that honesty is an overrated virtue?

EVA: Yes. But to keep our professional relationship clean, I won’t lie to you.

DAMJAN: Ouch.

EVA: Will you put this into your documentary?

DAMJAN: I don’t think so.

EVA: That’s why you can’t have a normal relationship. Because you don’t admit that you screw up things even to yourself. And when you do admit it, you hide it so well.

DAMJAN: I have a headache.

EVA: And I have no wish to continue this talk. You don’t mean anything to me, I don’t want to help you. Get dressed and go home.

DAMJAN: I’m sorry.

EVA: Don’t be. I had a nice time. There, I flattered your ego along the way. Now go.

DAMJAN: I won’t see you again?

EVA: Better not. Perhaps at your premiere.

DAMJAN: I’ll call you.

EVA: Don’t.

DAMJAN: For the premiere.

EVA: Oh, that’s fine. Bye.


(She pulls the cover over her head, Damjan wants to say something more, but he gives up. He gets dressed in silence and leaves.)



  1. ALLOW SAVE FOR FAST RECOVERY


MORANA: Three days. It’s not a lot.

DAMJAN: I didn’t see you running to do it.

MORANA: Nobody’s to blame.

DAMJAN: We’re both to blame.

MORANA: I wanted to forget you existed.

DAMJAN: It’s just a job.

MORANA: It never happened. It couldn’t have happened.

DAMJAN: It wasn’t us.

MORANA: It’s just a job.

DAMJAN: It’s just a job.

MORANA: What do you want from me now?

DAMJAN: I don’t know.

MORANA: Why did you call?

DAMJAN: Why didn’t you hang up? I thought you’d hang up.

MORANA: I didn’t think you’d have anything to say.

DAMJAN: What I really want is someone I can be silent with. When I’m tired and when I’m lethargic and when I think words are redundant, I don’t want to be alone.

MORANA: It’s not a matter of choice anymore. It’s a matter of what’s allowed.

DAMJAN: Is it allowed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? To be fierce and gentle at the same time?

MORANA: Not always. Sometimes. Just accidentally.

DAMJAN: What are you thinking about?

MORANA: I’m thinking how my head perfectly fits your shoulder. And I can’t believe we screwed up.

DAMJAN: Come to me.

MORANA: I can’t.

DAMJAN: Nothing will change if you touch me, you know that. It’s not the same touch anymore.

MORANA: The skin remembers. Selectively. Absent-mindedly. Without principle. I will feel what I want to feel, and not what it is.

DAMJAN: Nothing is. It didn’t happen. It couldn’t have happened.

MORANA: It shouldn’t have happened.

DAMJAN: You knew… somehow… you must have.

MORANA: You didn’t.

DAMJAN: I usually never lie.

MORANA: Do you have a flaw at all?

DAMJAN: No, I’m flexible. What do you really want?

MORANA: What I really want is only unconditional love.

DAMJAN: Only?

MORANA: Yes, if you think about it, you’ll see that’s the easiest thing. Animals of much lower intelligence are capable of it.

DAMJAN: But not me.

MORANA: But not us.



  1. AUTOARCHIVE OLD DOCUMENTS


(Doorbell rings.)


MUM: Who might that be?

DINKA: It must be that brother of mine.

MUM: He never comes on Sundays.

DINKA: He never comes period. But since I didn’t invite anybody, and nobody ever comes to see you, it’s either him or Jehovah’s Witnesses.

MUM: Just open the door.

DINKA: (coming back) They’re exchanging “The Watchtower” for dinner.

DAMJAN: Hello, Mum.

MUM: My prodigal son. You never write, you never call. I must’ve left you a hundred messages.

DAMJAN: Thirty-six, to be precise. Aw, Mum, when I come home and hear that number…

DINKA: And you know they’re all by mother dearest…

DAMJAN: … I lose my will to check the messages. Besides, you have my cell phone number, call me.

MUM: I won’t call you on your cell, when you’re not home, you’re probably working.

DAMJAN: You can always call me.

MUM: Well, you could also call me. You know, for a change.

DINKA: He’d go bankrupt. You take hours on the phone, he can’t afford it.

DAMJAN: See, Mum, you’re pestering me. Even Dinka feels the need to stand up for me. What’s up, sis? How’s school?

DINKA: Same as always. When are you going to get me a job.

DAMJAN: Pass your finals and we’ll talk. I thought you were into theatre.

DINKA: Changed my mind.

DAMJAN: Hear that Mum, that’s genes working.

MUM: I don’t know where you get it from. Certainly not from me.

DAMJAN: (to Dinka) It’s a bad idea, really. You’ll never be able to fill your big brother’s shoes.

DINKA: You know, people keep asking about you. Something about that window you broke.

MUM: What window?

DINKA: It’s been fixed.

DAMJAN: So, things do change at the Academy. How come you know about it?

DINKA: The girl from cafeteria told me.

DAMJAN: Lana?

DINKA: Nope, Petra. Seems the story is passed on.

MUM: What window?

DAMJAN: Come on, Mum, it’s nothing big. We broke a window on a shoot. It was a long time ago and an accident.

DINKA: Your son’s actually a hooligan but you never noticed ‘cause you love him blindly as all mothers do.

DAMJAN: As all of my mothers.

DINKA: You jerk!

DAMJAN: Well, you should be better educated than us working class.

MUM: What working class?

DAMJAN: It’s a thing from school. Working class and theoreticians. Dramaturges are theoreticians.

MUM: And who’s working class?

DAMJAN: Everybody else.

DINKA: Yeah, these are jokes from your era… Stone Age, wasn’t it? Neanderthal.

DAMJAN: Mum, is there anything in the fridge?

DINKA: You see, he’s come to eat.

DAMJAN: I came home after being away for three days and discovered that what’s left in my fridge is no longer edible.

MUM: Do you want me to make you something?

DINKA: Unbelievable, you don’t even cook for me when I’m sick.

MUM: You never eat anything anyway. So?

DAMJAN: No, I’ll just get something…

MUM: Are you sure? It’s not a problem.

DAMJAN: I’m sure. Sit down.

MUM: And where have you been for three days?

DAMJAN: Away.

MUM: Away? Why didn’t you tell me?

DAMJAN: I didn’t go to Alaska. We were checking out location for a shoot. Not terribly important.

MUM: Where?

DAMJAN: Plitvice.

MUM: Plitvice! Had I known, I would’ve died worrying. It’s still mined.

DAMJAN: That’s why I didn’t tell you.

MUM: Damjan!

DINKA: Mum, would you make him something to eat? (to Damjan) This is pure compassion talking…

DAMJAN: You don’t have to, really.

MUM: What if I want to?

DAMJAN: Then it would be very rude to say no, seeing as you brought me up properly.

MUM: I’m on my way.


(Mum exits.)

DINKA: Ok, now cut the crap. You could’ve gone grocery shopping. Why are you here?

DAMJAN: My grocery store’s not open on Sunday.

DINKA: And you live on a hill in the middle of nowhere. That’s a really shitty excuse.

DAMJAN: I live on a hill in the middle of nowhere. There are only hospitals in my neighbourhood.

DINKA: You could’ve gone for dinner at a psychiatry ward, nobody would suspect.

DAMJAN: I came to see you, sis.

DINKA: Oh. And where did you sleep this weekend? She didn’t even feed you?

DAMJAN: I was at the Lakes.

DINKA: How strange, it must’ve been your body double I saw at the Aquarius on Friday then.

DAMJAN: Impossible. You know I don’t hang out at the Aquarius.

DINKA: Neither do I.


(Pause.)


DINKA: So, will you tell me everything?

DAMJAN: It’s not for your ears.

DINKA: Oh yes, I’m the little kid who’s never told anything. I’m so lucky that you’re keeping me away from the mighty family curse all my life!

DAMJAN: What are you talking about?

DINKA: Never mind. Will you tell me?

DAMJAN: I don’t think so.

DINKA: I’ll guess, then. You’re in love… but not with the girl you came to Aquarius with… nor the one you speak of in interviews…

DAMJAN: I can’t believe you read that crap.

DINKA: Only when it’s about you. Now, you messed something up and you came for advice, Mum’s advice at that, but you can’t admit you need it. Essentially, you’re momma’s boy, that’s why you have problems with women.

DAMJAN: God save me from cheap psychoanalysis. Especially coming from my own sister.

DINKA: But I’m right.

DAMJAN: Not in the least.

DINKA: I knew it. You’re forgetting I’ve been listening tales about your girlfriends all my life.

DAMJAN: And what’s your diagnosis, doc?

DINKA: You’re irreparable, and I’ll never marry, because if this is what nice boys like you do to their girlfriends, all hope is lost for the male of the species.

DAMJAN: So, sis, what should I do?

DINKA: To tell you the truth, I have no idea. If you’re really in love, how could you do such a thing anyway?

DAMJAN: I don’t know. I really don’t know. ‘Cause I’m stupid.

DINKA: You are.


(Mum comes back.)


MUM: Trading insults again?

DAMJAN: Dinka’s comforting me.

MUM: Wonderful. The soup’s almost done.

DAMJAN: Dinka, you wanted to say something… about the family curse we’ve been keeping from you…

DINKA: (cuts him off) I said it didn’t matter.

MUM: Dinka?

DINKA: He’s talking nonsense.


(Pause. Long and unsettling.)


DAMJAN: Hey, what are you writing about now?

DINKA: Human interactions.

DAMJAN: You couldn’t have been more precise.

DINKA: I don’t like to talk about it. What are you filming?

DAMJAN: Some documentary.

MUM: About what?

DAMJAN: Love agencies.

MUM: Hm?

DINKA: Dating services.

MUM: Why do you speak of it in such a derisive way?

DAMJAN: I do not at all.

MUM: You do.

DAMJAN: Mum, get off my case, OK?

MUM: I hate it when you do that. You’re ridiculing others’ misfortune.

DAMJAN: Oh, Mum…

MUM: Don’t oh Mum me. It’s easy to make jokes on other people’s account when you’re twenty-seven and old age seems light years away.

DAMJAN: Mum, you’re wrong.

MUM: You think these people like having to find partners that way? It’s probably people who have already tried out everything else. And when they barely find courage to do it, twenty-year-olds make fun of them in a TV show!

DAMJAN: That’s not how I work! If you’d ever come to see one of my films, you’d know!

MUM: Well, if you’d ask me, I’d be there!

DAMJAN: I ask you! Every time! I always tell Dinka about it!

MUM: Yes, of course, those two times a year that you drop by, you speak only to your sister. I’m always the fifth wheel. I don’t want to come to your premieres, I have a feeling I’m in the way…

DAMJAN: You’re not in the way, how many times do I have to tell you that?!?

MUM: You never talk to me!

DAMJAN: You’re impossible to talk to! It always ends like this!

MUM: There you go again, so condescending! That’s why you can’t make a decent film! You’re always above the rest of us. The perfect Damjan.

DAMJAN: What do you care what my films look like?

MUM: I’m bothered when you speak of this agency in such a way! What do you know about being alone?

DAMJAN: I know that I met the woman of my life at that agency. At that stupid table. By those stupid rules. And now I’m alone. There, you wanted to talk. So talk now.


(Pause.)


DINKA: Why didn’t you tell us? About Dad.


(Mum looks at her, startled.)


DINKA: That he left before. That he didn’t want me.

DAMJAN: Dinka, don’t…

MUM: I don’t want to talk about it.

DINKA: Then why do you keep all the papers? In which he disowns me? In which he expressedly forbids me to bear his name?

MUM: You know?

DAMJAN: Since forever.

DINKA: Why was it so hard to tell us? And what about Christmas presents? You bought them on his behalf?

MUM: I didn’t want there to be a difference between the two of you.

DINKA: Why did he leave? Because I’m not his daughter?

MUM: He didn’t leave. I chased him away.

DAMJAN: Because he didn’t believe you.

MUM: And I never lie.

DAMJAN: Except to us.

MUM: I never lied to you. I just didn’t give you unnecessary and burdening information.

DINKA: Finding out who my real father is does definitely qualify as unnecessary!

MUM: He is your father. He just didn’t want himself to be, so he imaged things.

DINKA: And you drove him away. Because of that. Didn’t you try to convince him?

MUM: No. Did he deserve it?

DAMJAN: We don’t know. You tell us.

MUM: He was not good for you. You’ re not regular children.

DAMJAN: That’s why we needed a regular father. To make us go to bed and ground us.

MUM: No.

DINKA: Because he wasn’t good enough for you.

MUM: He was good enough for me, but not for you.

DINKA: Oh you poor dear. Do I hear some resentment in your voice?

MUM: Who do you think you are, Dinka? I chose my path, and I chose to keep quiet about it. You made me talk.

DINKA: I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Let you squirm till the end of your life.

DAMJAN: Give it up.

DINKA: No. Don’t you think we’re entitled to a little respect? That she should treat us as grown-ups capable of making their own decisions?

DAMJAN: And what would you have done? Go looking for him?

DINKA: Maybe I would.

DAMJAN: Why?

DINKA: Because I have to know.

MUM: He just didn’t want another kid. Nothing special, Dinka.

DINKA: That’s nothing special to you?

MUM: You’re special to me. And that is enough. He doesn’t matter.

DINKA: I don’t believe you. I don’t believe a word you say anymore.

MUM: You think my life was great? Being alone with two kids? Knowing, deep down inside, I’d always stay alone?

DAMJAN: Because of us?

MUM: Because of you. At first nobody looked at me because I was ugly. Tired. And now I’m just old.


(Pause.)


MUM: Get a grip, Damjan. I don’t wish you my life. And you grow up finally, perhaps we’ll be able to talk without this stupid fake regards towards each other.


(Mum exits.)


DAMJAN: Can’t you ever keep your mouth shut?



16. CTRL+ALT+DEL


DINKA: In that scattered horror it didn’t matter where it would lead. It could be ended instantaneously, without reason and cause, because I am the sole reason. I am the border between truth and lie, the limit of that particular part of the universe. Only that what had started can end, and I couldn’t pinpoint the time of Big Bang. And only something that is not lasting already, that has not carved marks on us, that has not tainted us by its continuous, sticky presence can start.

Stories, just as lies, can always begin from the beginning all over again and end without ending because they don’t take responsibility. Endings will then happen by inertia, as when the autumn winds bring new thoughts and the dreams of summer vaporise from one’s head. Inertia is impossible to control.

How do you know if the endings are right? They don’t have to be truthful, they don’t have to be precise, politically correct, astonishing, purposeful, subtle, end full… They can be only one point in the line. Any point.

I want to be the source point.



17. VERSIONS


EVA: You win.

MARTIN: I was never more glad to be right. I knew you’d call.

EVA: What now? Can you handle it? Can you handle me?

MARTIN: We’ll see. We don’t have to get engaged tomorrow. I know that for you it’s been either sex or engagement, but we’re going to work on that.

EVA: What, no sex?

MARTIN: (laughing) Yes, good relationships are based on mutual trust achieved through conversation.

EVA: And you asked me why I found it boring?

MARTIN: I give up. Seems that you won after all. OK, I’m ready to play by your rules. Within the limits of physical stamina, of course.

EVA: Who’d say you men are so easy to tame. Should’ve tried it ages ago. I could’ve been a rich widow by now.

MARTIN: Oh god, what am I getting myself into?

EVA: Run while you still can.

MARTIN: I don’t leave. I told you that already.



18.


MORANA: You know, I saw him last night.

VANJA: So dragging you to Aquarius wasn’t a good idea.

MORANA: Not in the least.

VANJA: Are you ok?

MORANA: He was there with a woman. Actually with two women. When one of them left, the other one just turned up. And both of them were at our agency before.

VANJA: You’re joking.

MORANA: Well, he obviously doesn’t have time to find dates elsewhere.

VANJA: Did you guys talk?

MORANA: Not really. He came to me, dead drunk, and bit my shoulder and I pushed him away.

VANJA: Morana, did you ever ask him if he was free?

MORANA: You won’t believe it, but it didn’t seem important.

VANJA: You felt like the one.

MORANA: It went through my head at one point it may not be so, but it dissipated quickly. You know what the worst is? It’s not important, even now.

VANJA: You’ll get over it.

MORANA: I’m sure.


19.


EVA: Martin? Jesus, I almost didn’t recognize you.

MARTIN: Yeah, it’s always like that. I’m not the easy-to-remember type.

EVA: You’re no type.

MARTIN: It’s nice of you to say so. Well, how you’ve been?

EVA: Fine. You know me.

MARTIN: Still playing solo?

EVA: And proud.

MARTIN: You look well.

EVA: Thanks. What about you?

MARTIN: Still solo. Not quite by choice.

EVA: I’m sorry.

MARTIN: It’s not that bad.

EVA: It’s not bad at all, you’ll see. I’m sorry, I have to go.

MARTIN: It was good, running into you.



20.


From: Morana

To: This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it

Cc:

Subject: escape

i think i owe you an explanation. sorry, this may be stupid, and it’s not because i couldn’t say it to your face, but it seemed to me there’s just too much of it, and it can’t be uttered in one breath, and every pause could lead to another direction. btw, pauses have meaning, at least with me. and it’s no text for pauses. so, in order to avoid inadvertently signifying sth because of breathing in, i decided on a letter. and yes, i do know it’s not good to leave a paper trail...

and perhaps this whole stupid intro is just for buying time. i don’t know. probably. now comes the difficult part. honesty. i propose a ten minute break.

i’m not angry with you. i’m angry with myself. i’m angry because i’m hurt over sth that shouldn’t affect me. i’m angry because i think i’m not entitled to anger, and i’d like to be entitled. i wake up with your teeth mark on my shoulder and then i’m angry for letting you come that close and perhaps i’m even angrier because it feels good when you bite me. i’m angry at my skin because its reactions are so foolish, so unprincipled, so opposite to what i’d want. i want so much to stay cold. to forget that your touch scorches me.

i manage it. sometimes. for a moment or two, sometimes longer. i can do it, i think. if you’d disappear from my life just now, i wouldn’t even remember you. and then you do sth silly, irrelevant and i go mad. that’s it. the control freak is out of control and the story begins for the umpteenth time. the problem with these beginnings is that they’re not deleted automatically, but each new version includes the save file of the previous one. dammit. it’s quite a baggage for a non-relationship.

when we’re standing ten feet from your girlfriend at the aquarius and you’re coming on to me, of course i’ll reject you, not because i’m not attracted to you but because it’s definitely neither the time nor the place. and you move on to find a third party! i’m not accusing you and i’m not judging you, but i want you to know that at that moment i feel hurt and disappointed because it seems you don’t really care who you’re kissing. then i remember i don’t have the right to feel hurt. then it confuses me. fuck, it’s a real blow to ego. probably not yours. and it’s not about alcohol because even when i’m totally pissed i know whose arms i’m in and i know even better whose arms i most certainly won’t be in. and then i go home and rage, and feel stupid for ever letting you near me because if it hadn’t been me, it would’ve been a third, fifth, tenth party... and then, on top of all that, damn them, the tears start, and i cry only when i’m extremely happy or outrageously furious. there you go. you’re the only one ever who’s reduced me to tears.

maybe you shouldn’t have found out all of this. but i feel disclosed in front of you anyway. and i’m sure you already know it, but i needed to say it. a piece of friendly advice, the only one you’ll ever get from me, because, as i said, we’re not friends: don’t run away. running away is my strategy, that’s how i know it’s not a good one.


MORANA: It’s a message I never sent you.

DAMJAN: Don’t tell me you have it saved.

MORANA: Yep. So I could blackmail you.

DAMJAN: I think there are a couple of things here open to discussion.

MORANA: Such as what.

DAMJAN: Well, for instance, it’s not true you don’t cry when you’re sad. I saw you. The other day at the cinema.

MORANA: All right. I overdid it a bit, I admit.

DAMJAN: It’s true that you’re a control freak, and it’s true we’re not friends…

MORANA: Damjan. What would’ve happened had I sent it?

DAMJAN: You mean, if the famous Ilica Street incident where you explained everything, though much less coherently and with more curse words, hadn’t happened?

MORANA: Yes.

DAMJAN: My recovery might have been shorter.

MORANA: At one point I thought it’s too big for me. That it happened to soon. Too abrupt. Too… inconsistent. And surreal. And I wanted to escape.

DAMJAN: I was running away the whole time. These are your words.

MORANA: And had I said nothing at all?

DAMJAN: Nothing might have happened then.

MORANA: This may not be happening.

DAMJAN: It can’t happen to us.

MORANA: Never.


21. ARRANGE ALL


DAMJAN: Mum’s asleep.

DINKA: I have a feeling I solved nothing.

DAMJAN: Why do you have the need to push everything to its limits?

DINKA: Not everything.

DAMJAN: Only the important stuff.

DINKA: There’s no unimportant stuff. There are only unimportant people.

DAMJAN: Like Dad?

DINKA: Like Dad. But I had to find out he was unimportant. To me. What about you?

DAMJAN: I don’t remember him well. I always choose to forget.

DINKA: And what happens then?

DAMJAN: After a while, you’re not sure how the story really developed.

DINKA: You know, that’s unimportant.

DAMJAN: You think?

DINKA: Will you let me see the footage… for the documentary?

DAMJAN: Why?

DINKA: I’m interested. I always want to know what you do in life.



22. CLICK HERE TO END SHOW


DINKA: I'm not interested in truth.

I want to see what goes on under open umbrellas, I want to see that what is not quite so big and special only in its short-lived fulness.

Like people whom you meet once and don't get to know them more and don't get to know them better, people aboard the train from Zagreb to Place-you've-forgotten-the-name-of, if it even had a name in the dream, meaningless people.

I'm not intersted in truth. The moment that it's written down, it is true and false at the same time. Just like you, my brother. And in the scattered horror, it is only important where it begins.

I want to be the source point. Make me believe that I'm the right one, the only one, the one that moves the universe in all its meaninglessness, make me believe that I'm the stem of every rule and the beginning of every system. Only by me are the things distinguished. Only inside me they exist. Endings will then happen by inertia, as when the autumn winds bring new thoughts and the summer reveries vaporise from one’s head.

I want to be the source point, but I cannot. Because I forget what is hidden under the tired eyelids so I can’t pinpoint the beginning. That’s when I lie.

But when I close the umbrella, I can see the starry sky.


















Facebook! TwitThis