Here: 17.8.2010 Ljubljana: Thrift-store Eyeglasses and a Denim Vest

performance art, Tukad Munga

17 8 2010 Ljubljana


12:07-12:22

Here to my right on a tiny oval-shaped tray, we see the empty green bottle that contained mineral water. We see the glass and it is empty and clear. We see the white ceramic coffee mug with the hint of napkin beneath it.



We see in front of where we sit, a sink with a stone basin, and it seems either to be an artifact or to imitate an artifact.



And actually, directly in front of us, we see a wicker basket full of lemons- seven are visible. We see on a shelf below that, seven grapefruits in a basket, and below this, we see an open black bowl, containing five bananas.



To the left and on a ledge overlooking the café, we see the effigy of a trollesque witch, perched with her broom and an open mouth. Her teeth are like little kernels of corn, and her nose is pointy like a beak, and her eyebrows are white.



A funny little man with a denim vest, thrift-store eyeglasses, and a backpack worn low, carries a bundle of newspapers in a plastic bag is trundling in. He accosted me before at another café two weeks ago. He notices that my cast has been removed. He comes and glances invasively at my computer screen, speaking in Slovene. I reply, “yes of course” in Slovene. He tells me that I "shouldn’t work during the day," that I might "fool them." I thank him for this and he plods away.



I cannot recall ever seeing someone writing in public before. There is always the hint of cliché when you mention that you are writing at a café, yet, I never feel like I have seen it. Me, I can’t afford to consider clichés; when you are semi-nomadic, the concept of office is tempered by practicality.

Here: 16.8.2010 Ljubljana

Here on stari trg. 32, at the slascicarna café.


Here where an excavation is happening literally in front of you. The thing is of course, surrounded by that bright orange plastic fencing. That stuff that is probably in a big roll, and they unroll it and weave a long metal pole through the loops and they have a bright and temporary fence. It is this. And there is the yellow sign to my right that says ‘palacinke’ and this means pancake and there is a little stick drawing of a man cooking on a grill, holding arms above his head, each arm holding a cooking utensil. What about that? And the guys in front of me are dressed in green with white stripes. It is a bright mint green. Not as full as Christmas green, there is more yellow in it, but it feels synthetic nonetheless, and the white stripes of their outfits are two, around the ankles, and two around the wrists, and two around their abdomen at the level of the navel. An old woman to my left stares at a window where there is a doily-type lacy tablecloth and I realize that her shawl looks almost exactly the same as this. Does she realize this? Is all action motivated by this sort of narcissus at the pond behavior? No. but it happens, man. Well it is break time at the construction site. One guy stands watching the four others in the pit, who are sitting/ squatting. the man who drives the digging machine/ scooper thing, sits alone, facing away from the others. A child screams horribly behind me and it is a cry that seems to convincingly advocate vasectomies.