15-V-1971.

The festival in Kula. My "Oh how I killed him last night" had trouble with sound. Usually, the technique being what it was at the time, the sound would be on a separate 6mm tape (originally 0,25 inch), and the film and sound would, hopefully start at the same time and run at the same speed. It didn't matter much whether the projection ran on a projector with a set speed, because most of projectors didn't, and the one against which the sound was made may be off by any percentage. So the sound was usually just some accompanying music, often chosen by the teachers leading their sekcija, such as "Spanish flea" if it was to be something funny, Smetana's "Vltava" if it had lots of landscapes, or whatever the music teacher recommended. I've brought the unsynchronized sound recorded on the spot... but I was technologically too advanced, I brought it on cassette. They didn't have a cassette recorder, they even didn't know anyone who had one. So there was none of the usual crap, when sound goes off whole minute before the end of the movie, or trails as much - there was no sound. Too bad, that was the only thing I did right. It didn't even go to the main projection, only the žiri saw it (Urban, Štrboja, the gang). The movie was just an alibi, a cause to appear on the festival and advertise ourselves.

But I was active in other areas. I had something like a baseball cap, with the logo of DC-99 sewn into the shield (thanks to mom, she finished it at 4:30). I wrote a very funny article for the festival's bulletin. Buzzed arround and met people. Now the whole story.

The negative for this picture is gone, this is the only print I managed to keep, in the diary. It was, funny though, an ORWO NP 15, very low and hence fine grained, and it wasn't that high contrast either. It was all fine, too bad I didn't make more shots like this.

As soon as we arrived, Pop, D. and I started advertising the club. Everybody got wind of the name, only a select few were let into the secret of its meaning. That was a matter of honoring certain people - the jury, M.T., a friend from last year's KMT run, and specially Melanija. Now she's the right girl for me. When I speak, she keeps looking straight into my eyes and I feel I got her full attention. She wants things explained, elaborated. She's eagerly expecting the next word, looking through those blue eyes, sometimes jumping in to make fun of what she heard.

I noticed her in the upper hall of the culture home (where the projections were held), in a bunch of girls from her school. She wore a longer brown-mustard dress of something akin to leather (but wasn't, never found out what it was). Only when I noticed M.T. among them (probably his ex school), I approached them and joined the talk. We escorted them to where they slept, dropped a few innuendos, some didn't sit well but I bailed out fine.

In the morning (16th) she asked what the club name meant. I just whispered the address and passed by. Then we sat together during the projections, with M.T. in between though, but together all the same. Stayed with her most of the day, until the time for departure. They were the last I said farewell to.

She's great. The slightly pudgy nose, blonde but not too light, curious, principled. And sweetly somewhat pursed lips. A curiosum: she spent a year in Cairo, attended school in english.

Soon letters started flying back and forth, even nicer than the conversation, with lots of PS and PPS at the bottom, mind always remembers one more thing, or two or three.

So I was actually OK, just got a shot of optimism straight into all veins, was just a matter of finding the right girl. Except there won't be another festival for a year.

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Mentions: DC-99, Marko Popović (Pop), Melanija Tisarević, sekcija, žiri, in serbian