Why should anyone have to deal with regular bashing of his/her personality? Is it masachism or phlegmatism which keeps many in such positions? It is absurd to remain in the presence of people who beat you down to make themselves feel better.

Last night I watched ‘Match Point’, a film I knew absolutely nothing about before popping it into the DVD drive. I soon found it that Woody Allen directed it. Well, I thought, at least there is that. He usually injects a bit of depth into his films. The story turned out to be quite unexpected. I was happily surprised.

The protagonist, in the end, chooses a life which is more comfortable over a life which is unstable but arguably makes him much more happy/satisfied. The film does not take any sides on this issue. It does not judge his actions. It is just a statement of what is. And I believe what Allen is trying to portray is that most people, being put in the shoes of the protagonist, would choose the same.

Another point the film makes is that it is damn near impossible to pry yourself out of a complex life – just walk away from it – without your whole world turning on its head, even though doing so would make you more happy in the end. It’s the transitional phase that would suck. Badly.

I never want to choose what is comfortable over what would ultimately be more satisfying. Another reason for the upcoming change.

When I was in Praha two weeks ago, I told Michal all about Lucía. Well, probably not ALL about, but a good deal, anyway. We were rather blasted at the time, for sure. Since then (and prior, to an extent) the feeling has washed over me that it is finally time. Of course, I have written drivel similar to that sentence a multitude of times in the past, so it may not be immediately believed. Still, the feeling floods. The floorboards of my mind are sodden. The rafters will soon be entombed in the deluge.

I have never been one to be held at bay.

I mentioned in an email to Lucía yesterday (or was it the day before?) something concerning rent in Buenos Aires. She did not reply. Only during our short discussion today via Skype was the subject breached. One of her initial questions was ‘Are you serious this time?’ I suppose it was warrented. The last year has been rather jangly concerning the rusted, decrepit chains which hold me in Brno. I suppose the Rubicon has been crossed – at least mentally. No going back now.

Michal also expressed the desire to traverse the atlantic in early summer. A joint journey could be fruitful (not to mention pretty fucking big fun) but he’d be returning alone.

Sweet Entropy, are you listening? Is it time yet?

I haven’t seen this film in over 15 years. My opinions shall follow.

I’d like to make some sort of intelligent commentary on this film, but I seem unable to be coherent at the moment. So how is that for meta-tagging the entry? The feeling, from the beginning, is fucking intense. What a great start! What do you think, my elegant reader? I stopped the film just now. I was going to register something — mayhap here, mayhap in yon journal, but it has escaped me. Shit.

Definately, this film burns like Acy’s blowtorch to the leg of my cardtable back in 1991. You can feel the tension from the start. I am just to the point now where Jasper takes Faron to his place. They are about to smoke weed and listen to Radiohead. I remember so much. Fuck, that is a good idea. Oouh baby.

Another interesting point is that the version of ‘Goodbye Ruby Tuesday’ is sung by Franco Battiato. What the fuck kind of coincidence is that, my fine, feathered friend?

I wonder when it is time to feel old. I think my parents insist that it should be soon. It was only last year that my mother mentioned to me that I should be passing into middle age soon. Stereotypes are fun, eh?

The conversation with Mike in early 1994 is important. There are people (like, as he said, Miles, who would grow old naturally and happily) who grow old and people who are damned to be young for the rest of their existence. That reminds me: I’d be good to get in touch with him sometime soon, not only for nostalgic’s sake.

I think a large portion of the film is about forgetting people who are important. Well, perhaps that is just an ironic point of view. Ach Jo. What scratching impulse does one have when all one’s friends have been murdered because of some absurd political reason?

So I am going to watch the remainder of the film and sadden myself because of its inhumanty. I gotta figure out how to translate this to fucksheep zitra, for sure. FUCK.

I just pissed in a bottle because there is someone in the jointly shared toilet/bathroom in this fetid place.

At this very moment, I’d love to hear the song Been Alone so Long by Peter Hammill. It seems to sum up the evening though it really, rationally has not been so long since I have been alone. Just over three days. Funny how time can scrape and maul your senses. It seems like years, decades. And she transforms herself into the one who can survive her run of the mill world, the world I am very rarely allowed to see - Honeybuníčka land. I am not very happy about the September memory of her calling & messaging when she was drunk in Krnov. I was with Garth then and he shared my pain. I could see it in his face. I wonder what she was really doing, why she was really unavailable. And she accuses me of being suspicious. Oh yes, I am, and after the way she talks about her obsession with sex and the way she hides every other point of her social life from me – who wouldn’t be suspicious? I can think of no-one. You?

Breakfast time! Darling is showering again, which is a prime time to write, don’tcha think? A great deal of yesterday was spent with the grandparents, chowing down, chatting, and poking whenever possible. Poking is one of the favourite pastimes of my darling, and, apparently, her grandfather. Directness has taken on a new dimension in this family, let me tell ya! During the ending portion of lunch, I was barraged, by proxy, with a series of “personal” questions, culminating in my thoughts about children in my future. My genial reader will certainly know this is perhaps a topic not best explored initially. I mean by initially the immediate time surrounding the meeting with relatives. Whatever? My reply went to Jaroslav (grandfather) by proxy, as well. It was that I would not answer questions were they deemed unsuitable by myself (or something akin to that, anyway). The situation at the lunch table was strained for a short time afterwards and zenithed with Jana arguing with Jaroslav. We left, but I believe it was in good graces (later in the evening indicated this since hours were spent again with them, and in a totally pleasant manner).

We walked. She told me something pertaining to a trait I’ve heard of and noticed among many people. She said this: If a certain topic is good for them, it should be good for everyone (around). She carried by saying she thought it was probably a symptom of their old age. It may be true, in a sense, but I have encountered this sort of point of view in many groups of people throughout my life. I am unsure from where it springs, but my guess would be lack of diverse contact with varied types of people and cultural genres. I don’t want to complain here at all - for I like Jana’s grandparents very much. This concept just reminded me of others who are extreme in this “my point of view is the best / only point of view” whom I’ve known in the past. I suppose everyone suffers from this malady (if I can be so silly as to use such a word). Self-observation seems a “cure” (if again I can use a silly word). All in all, I was happy with my mostly hapless communication skills. We managed with my darling, the proxy, by my side, to have discourses on a number of (albeit simple yet satisfying) topics throughout the evening.

This morning, before our couscous adventure with the grandparents begins, Jana aims to analyse the handwriting in this cute little new journal. OH! It’s so small!

Krnov in a makeshift couchbed as the timid girl of my dreams takes a long morning shower. I am happy as a child in this place. Trains carried me satisfactorily to the small but unassuming railway station yesterday. I disembarked and walked hand in hand with Jana through the town, taking a long way, finally arriving here where I have recently given up on sleeping and plan to pursue vigorously the new day. Xmas day, according to the legends, they all say.

Meeting the family can always be an awkward situation. I must admit I was nervous, a trembling deer on a cold night near the highway, but I warmed nearly immediately though my communication skills are sorely lacking. Hey, I certainly tried. Yeah. Kapr was dinner with its close companions potato salad and fishy soup. Xmas in the midsection of Europe - possibly the center of the world - certainly the center of mine! I’ll have to review my ex-journals to find the description of my last Czech Xmas dinner. As far as I can recall, however, this current one blew the previous away without even a smidgen of effort. Possibly atmosphere helped, as well, but my mind cannot conjure right now a realistic comparison. The only mote in the evening was related to Gustav’s whining which often interrupted the clear and otherwise fruitful events.

I received a multitude of gifts (one of which I am writing in now). I was left wondering whether I should’ve brought more! :( My tummy is fumbling and soon breakfast will foist itself upon me!

Jana appears to be completing her shower. It is time to enjoy my second day in a town I’ve wanted to see for nearly a year. More later…

My woman lies in the other room on the bed with a book. The only words she has spoken to me since I returned from work were sarcastic or scurrilous. She claims her mood springs from our Skype chat earlier. I invited her to go to a film tonight and she asked why I liked sitting down so much. She said she’d go, but I have to go to power yoga with her in return. I told her I would not feel comfortable in a group exercise environment (which is certainly true) and she was patently offended, it seems.

We have been wavering. For a long time now.

She treated me with this emotional icyness in the past and I endured it, always building, hoping for better days. Perhaps I was wasting my time. Perhaps she was wasting hers, as well. It is certainly an indication that our relationship is on the rocks when what were once seen as only small cracks in my personality now must shield themselves from a torrential flood from her. So she is not happy. How to let it go?

She said she was looking for a new place to live. She said she wants to leave me. It hurt. It still does a bit, but the pain is waning. As I strolled through the chilly evening from the bus-stop to our flat, I felt a smile creep to my lips as I thought of freedom.

At this moment, a techno/hip hop version of Zarozinia by Hawkwind is permeating the office from the speakers attached to the laptop of my officemate, Petr. Well, what should I expect, really, considering the abortion I heard yesterday? (Baba ORiley by The Who.) I yearn for the peace of my own office space. So