I told you that it doesn’t want to end:
the sisters are coming
coming in pairs
no worries just friends
chatting and sooner or later voicing
what blends into one:
woman and therapy.
I swear the will for therapy is nowhere stronger than right here.
our woman the breeding ground of errors and mistakes [1]
a reproduction of ignorance of terrible distress
which today in the midst of ultimate fragmentation
may perhaps only be resolved
by the woman herself.
the woman body travelled over distances and times
layers of doubt and certainty
from the solidity of backwardness of the idea of progress
our woman the udarnik
the path to freedom
the formerly rightless the path
to a better life
digging ditches along the way
a proper worker ant
defined by work
industrious in body and spirit
our woman all for the community and nothing is too hard
eats heavy industry for breakfast
the world and everything in the palm of her hand
milking some and nursing others
vida says something’s not right here
an intuition of burnout
this isn’t going to end well
even worse it might not even end at all
but sure everything is great it glimmers and it flames
the illusion an achievement par excellence
and so it’s quite possible that the woman body doesn’t notice
that it’s digging ditches for itself.
so spring comes around and our woman says women wake up
so the women hurry to wake up
running around in confusion
something’s not right here
how are we supposed to wake up
if we’d never been asleep
we always on guard
how marta wound up
how meta is going to any minute now
you can take the words but not the blows
the names of poor women remain behind the horizon
but when women dream wiry with sleeplessness
they mostly dream of chains of words
unable to quit pragmatic registers
reality a creaky memory
words neither translucent nor permeable
words the chains
in words you pause and forever
chains around your neck short sentences and a broken voice
this body in perpetual construction
the more it’s modern the more it falls apart
this body multitudinous dismembered
our woman to combust then scatter
sharpening the blades we’re many now each on her own
and now our woman smart taking her destiny into her own hands
the body a symptom everything’s okay she’s doing self-improvement
the woman better with each day does this path have an end in sight?
our woman cautioning women saying
that slovenia is being plagued by stress
not fascism
and that stress is the resistance to change
not the result of communal suffocation
you should look into yourself you can do it
you power from within you should come alive
and that wallpaper makes the walls come alive
and that hydrangeas are always beautiful
and that biophoton therapy leads to mobility
and that cognitive therapy leads to freedom
and that gestalt leads almost anywhere
anyway
I approach the sisters looking for intimacy what is wrong with me
but I am well-behaved yes well-behaved this is my place
liked for that by many truly many almost all yes actually all
even mothers would love me
if only I would screw their sons instead of daughters
anyway
I say hey wassup sisters nice day innit could you please stop thank you
and they say nina powerful subversive nina the pillar of our generation
and that that’s the kind we need
I on the other hand don’t feel needed by anybody
and I say help me stay alive
and they your life’s within you
and only a destructive glare within this body
exerting itself knowing it’s all in vain knowing yet not stopping
and there’s love grinning at me
saying my beautiful you really want to convince
and of course I counter I say bite me
and mean that
and live that
but you know
I’m always in conflict with myself
so what I mean is not really that finite
I’m actually sort of like a buoy – existing floating waiting for something to happen
grand hopes all that
trying always to keep on the surface
increasingly doubtful whether the surface might not actually be the surface of the bottom
maybe that’s why everything bites so hard
you know me if I get up I just fall down again
really you should see it
maybe you should really be right here
maybe if you were somebody’d pick me up
and that’s more or less it as far as I’m concerned
and that I should calm down
and that I work too much
that’s the point at which it truly hits me
I’m really hurt (or maybe just disoriented as a rule)
and then I wonder am I like our woman
digging ditches maybe without knowing that they’re for herself
how then to come to terms with the fact that I consider our woman hopelessly dumb
and that I truly don’t have anything to do with her
because the new woman’s hard at work improving her own self
the woman body is developing
fighting battles always finding a way
from the myth of the upright socialist woman
to the myth of the liberated modern woman
from women’s problems
to women as their own problems
the woman body always suffering
lucid and humble greedily shouldering all
the warrior body finds a way
if she shoulders and improves herself she saves the world
but somewhere somewhere the body distrusts the sisters and itself
so tries to dig herself out of her hole but nobody hears her
this body hurting humming unnecessary of no harm and of no use
now it would be of use now it would slaughter take a machete to the foundations
tear down skyscrapers within this structure the body is not a building block
this body stands behind no-one and nothing
the body would stand but doesn’t remain
I turn I turn
then always falling
impermeable words nothing but an impenetrable gloom
and there the body the fleeting face disfigured
hating you and wanting to destroy you you sisters
using it to heal society’s hell
you who call for spiritual therapies
who doing so thus make us all:
sick.
[1] Translator’s note: A reference to Naša žena (literally “Our Woman”), a magazine for the “working woman” published in Slovenia since 1941.
sem vam rekla da se noče nehat:
sestre prihajajo
prihajajo v parih
brez skrbi le frendice
se pomenkujejo in slej ko prej je je slišati
kar se zliva v eno:
ženska in terapija.
prisežem da volja po terapiji nikjer ni tako močna kot tu.
naša žena gojilnica napak in zmot
reprodukcija nevednosti strašnih stisk
ki danes v zadnji instanci fragmentacije
reši jih lahko menda edino
žena sama.
telo žena prepotovalo daljave in časove
dvome naložene in prepričanja v svoj prav
od stlačenosti v zahojenost v idejo napredka
naša žena udarniška
pot v svobodo
nekdaj brezpravnim pot
v boljše življenje
po poti ruje jarke
dela se ne brani
utemeljuje se v delu
telo duh produktiven
naša žena za družbo vse in nič ji ni težko
težka industrija mala malca
svet na dlani vse v njenih rokah
ena bitja molze druga doji
vida reče tu nekaj ni prav
slutnja izgorevanja
tole se ne bo dobro končalo
še najhuje bo če se sploh ne bo
a jasno da vse je prav sijajno svetlika se kresi
to slepilo grand dosežek
zato je prav možno da telo žena ne zapazi
da jarke koplje zase.
pa pride pomlad pa naša žena reče ženske zbudite se
pa se ženske hitijo buditi
zmedene bezljajo
nekaj tu ni prav
kako naj se zbudimo
če nikdar nismo spale
me stalno na straži
kako marta je končala
kako mete vsak čas konec bo
besede še preneseš udarcev pač ne
imen revnih žena pa obzorja ne tvori
a ko ženske od nespečnosti grčave sanjajo
sanjajo zlasti verige besed
iz stvarnih registrov ne morejo izstopiti
realnost hreščavi spomin
besede nič prozorne ne prepustne
besede okovje
v besedah zastaneš in za zmerom
okrog goltanca verige kratki stavki in počen glas
to telo v nenehni gradnji
bolj moderno bolj razpada
to multitudno telo razkosano
naša žena vžig nato raztresi se
pomaga brusiti rezila zdaj smo mnoge vsaka zase
zdaj naša žena smart sama si kroji usodo
telo simptom vse okej na sebi dela
žena vsak dan boljša ali vidi konec te poti?
in naša žena žene svari reče
da po sloveniji razsaja stres
ne pa fašizem
pa da stres je upiranje spremembam
ne učinek družbene zadušitve
ti le vase se zazri ti zmoreš
ti v sebi moč ti zaživi
pa da stene zaživijo s tapetami
pa da so hortenzije vedno lepe
pa da se s fotonsko terapijo pride do gibljivosti
pa da se s kognitivno terapijo pride do osvobojenosti
pa da se z geštaltom pride tako rekoč kamorkoli
skratka
stopim k sestram bližino bi kaj je z mano narobe
pa sem olikana seveda olikana prav sem sodim
mnogim zato všeč res mnogim skoraj vsem v bistvu vsem
še matere bi me imele rade
če bi le dol dajala njihove sinove namesto njihovih hčera
skratka
rečem žio čao sisters dober dan kaj lahko prosim nehate hvala lepa
pa rečejo nina močna kritična nina steber generacije
pa da take rabimo
meni pa se ne zdi da me kdo rabi
pa rečem pomagajte mi preživet
one pa tvoje življenje je v tebi
v tem telesu pa le uničujoč soj
matra se in ve da vse to zaman in ve in ne neha
in ljubav se mi tam reži
reče lepa moja ti bi res rada dopovedala
seveda se uprem in rečem boli me
in to mislim v obeh jezikih mislim
in to tudi živim
ampak a veste
jaz skoz v konfliktu s seboj
kar mislim torej niti ni tako končno
sem bolj kot neka boja – je in lebdi in čaka da bo kaj z njo
to upanje izjemno
ves čas se skušam držati na površju
vse manj prepričana ali ni to površje morda površje dna
morda me zato vse tako boli
veste jaz če vstanem kar padem
res to bi morali videti
morda bi res morali biti tu
morda bi me potem kdo pobral
in to je pravzaprav vse kar je o meni za reči
pa da se moram umiriti
pa da delam preveč
na tej točki pa me z vso silo zadane
prav prizadeta (ali le dezorientirana kot pravilo)
in potem se sprašujem ali sem kot naša žena
ki koplje jarke in morda ne ve da jih koplje zase
kako naj si torej pojasnim da imam našo ženo za temeljno zabito
in da z njo torej resnično nimam nič
kajti nova žena dela in to na sebi
telo žena se razvija
bitke bije in vedno najde pot
od mita o pokončni socialistični ženi
do mita o sodobni ženi svobodni
od problemov žensk
do žensk kot njim lastnih problemov
telesu ženi stalno hudo
pronicljivo in skromno pohlepno vse vzame nase
telo borka najde rešitev
če vzame nase in reši na sebi reši cel svet
a nekje nekje telo si ne verjame in sestram ne
pa se hoče izkopati pa je nihče ne sliši
to telo razbolelo šumeče nenujno ki ne škodi in ne koristi
zdaj bi koristilo zdaj bi kar klalo z mačeto šlo na te temelje
nebotičnike rušilo v tej stavbi to telo ni gradnik
to telo ne stoji za nikomer in ničemer
telo bi rado stalo pa ne obstane
se obrnem se obrnem
nato vsakič pade
v besedah nobene prepustnosti en sam zgoščen mrak
tam to telo ta nestalen obraz izmaličen
prezira vas in uničiti hoče sestre
ki družbeni pekel zdravite na njem
ker kličete k duhovnim terapijam
ker nas torej vse delate za:
bolne.