Andrej Blatnik

Andrej Blatnik


Foto Credits to Mateja Jordovič Potočnik

Andrej Blatnik was born on May 22nd, 1963, in Ljubljana, Slovenija, where he studied Comparative Literature and Sociology of Culture and got his MA in American Literature and PhD in Communication Studies. He was a free-lanced writer for five years. He works as an editor in Cankarjeva publishing house, teaches publishing studies at the University of Ljubljana and was the president of the jury for the Vilenica prize between 2007 and 2015


save your kisses for me

Sometimes the curtain doesn’t even rise, he thought, a
moment before stepping onto the stage. And sometimes
it rises, but there’s not a single girl out there and you don’t
even have to go up to the mike. And sometimes they
start booing before you even start singing and then it’s
like you’ve won the race by default, you don’t even have
to show how much you don’t know, you just spread your
arms and walk away. But sometimes, sometimes there’s
a lot of them on the other side, clapping and cheering
enthusiastically as though they can’t wait for you to start
singing off-key, and that’s when you’re in trouble, that’s
when you have to take your guitar and sing the way that
you can’t, that’s when you can’t take a step back and say
“I knew it,” to yourself and the world. It can’t be one of
those nights that some girl shows up, can it?



Everything is in place, the ashtray virtually brimming
over, the tablecloth splattered red, the glasses mottled,
it’s the dead of night, nobody’s listening when she says:
No, not even once with a man she liked. Touched,
somebody smiles: What an appealing story!



The sea on the one side, cliffs on the other. Highway,
high beams. The music helps me keep my eyes open.
Short songs about love that hurts. It’s only midnight. Seduce
me, honey, let’s kill some time. She’ll never know
we’ve been together. It’s only midnight, let’s go wild. Do
you think of me when you’re with her? But before you
take my clothes off, you should know that my body does
come with a soul, and as I give you one, you get the other
as well.
All love affairs come to an unhappy end, is what the
songs say. It’s all so far away, also so close. In the distance,
the flickering lights of a gas station. I bide my
time. Looking. My breath fogs up the window. Therefore
I am. I’ve been thinking about it for quite a while,
now I know. He’ll stop for gas. I’ll take my purse and
say I need to go to the ladies’ room, I’ll get in another
car, I bet there’s one open and ready, and I’ll start on
another journey. I’m sure there are other journeys. I’m
sure he’ll understand. So much music, explaining everything.
All love affairs come to an unhappy end, is what the songs say.