Unfamiliar to all fitness-types
Eating late at night is an unfamiliar custom to all fitness-fanatics, runners, and others who discovered that, actually, there exists The Body. And that The Body needs to be kept in shape at the age of 25. I’ve done my body-related duties during my adolescent period. First I was a skateboarder, and then I found out that my body emanates much of energy and that I could use it to dance till the early dawn. Hip-hop, Hard Core, Ska, whatever, it doesn’t matter to me as long as I could jump around. I just take off my slippers, and jump barefooted. Ecstasy-free, of course… I am not that type.
Eating at night is a custom I had practiced during all my life, until about 3 months ago. And my favourite late-night dish is burek. Mmmm, burek! Burek! Burek! Burek! Burek is a Macedonian pie, which people tend to eat after a night spent partying, to make a hangover come with ease. A drink of yoghurt along, and hangover no more. My nostrils still make an unconscious gesture when I remember these nights. To start and get stuck on such a habit, you have to be a night bird at first.
But, years pass-by and you decided to be called a party man – headbanger no longer – cause you started to listen to something of a more sophisticated sound. So, it could be funk, or… jazz? Maybe you do, and maybe you don’t! And you end up being a hedonist – the one with specific character, and a number of constant manual actions, which entertain your sense of taste. Like tobacco, fine wines, Tennessee Whiskey, for instance. And you just end up participating in debates, such as explaining people why you do hate house music so much!
-Most of the DJs I heard spin the stuff that’s been around the market and the one that’s been here to make ’em sympathies for girls around the corner. None of them really digs old stuff. – you’d say.
–None of them DJs get to the point that listening to old stuff before DJing is important AS WELL!!! Do you know that second track from that Funkadelic LP? The bass is pumping, but the sound is so well produced that you got yourself so occupied with every other aspect of it, that rhythm just keeps you going. And all I hear in house music today is ‘plonck-plonck-plonck’. You know, none of them guys does get to the point of view where you realize that music history is moving in cycles. –
Buregdzhicide? Partycide? Hedonismicide?
Huhhhh… Now that you became a hedonist, you’ll skip to another terrain, or upgrade to another level. Or simply, just expand the depth of field. You start eating at night because you drank before that. And you keep explaining, explaining to explain what the heck has to be explained to, for your crowd. And there are no crowds, nor audiences. You are in the club, talking over someone else’s shoulder with the wall behind him, in the middle of a bar. Drinking beer or wine from the opened bottles.
Walking home from work, or choosing to re-shape the butt-shaped body, you get your kicks at buregdzhinitsa. That is a small shop that sells burek. Living on the city’s centre and belonging to flock of hedonists, you and your friends often get yourselves a burek.
– Cheese or meat? – is the unmistakable and unspeakable code, nothing else to add – Yin & Yang of late nights and pre-dawns. The next moment you’re standing outside of buregdzhinitsa, and the oil is sleazing down your chin. The warmth fills the nose drills. The cheese or meat, depending what you chose, is filling the mouth cavity with holy aroma. I bet that 3 wise men, which brought 3 presents for little baby Jesus didn’t ever smell like that. I won’t even bet, I dare Balthazar, Melkior and ??? You get to the level where burek is the First element, the Unmoved Creator. And it has to be late night atmosphere. If a certain dish isn’t provided with a proper mood, no Thelonious Monk’s piano solo can fill the gap. And with a habit, as such you became a nighthawk.
But reality is crude. The church’s officials had decided to order the state what to do. To declare a law which would ban the work on Sundays. And not only that, the late night joints – including buregdzhinitsas – have to close at 10.30 PM during working days. How should I call it?
At least, there’s Tom Waits’ album – entitled «Nighthawks At The Diner’. Not one of my favourites, but at least I can listen to it, when I am not unspeakably and unmistakably drooling that nights aren’t the same no more.
< Good evening to nighthawks, wherever they are…>