Voja Radovanović

Not many things are known about a writer Voja Radovanovic. These are more supposition or third hand informations than the real truth. But, why is it so? Because, for years he was being able to succesfully avoid to expose himself in media, to consort with world-wide JET SET and to give interviews, irrationally claiming that it helps him to stay normal. He even avoids to show himself in public. You can almost count with your toes all those people who had fortune to meet him in person. He writes for "his soul only" and for people that share his point of view. Thanks to just a few literature lovers, who had barelly convinced him to post his site, wider reading audience has the chance to meet his work. From some pathetic data that we have, that are confirmed, it's known that he was born in 1963. He started writing when he was five (rather inconsistently; we have no written .. from that period of his life in our archive), and after that he started to work on his writing much more serriously. In that short period of time, ftom his fifth to his fortieth year he continues to be unknown in writting circles. A story goes that the crucial influence on him had meeting with one serbian famous writter who he saw wasted drunk on the sidewalk. Then he thought to homself: "I wanna be like that". All trough he didn't become quite like that, he started to gain his first compliments for his literarry work. For his tale "Daca", published during year 2000 he gained the second prize of "The Crnjanski scene". For story "Mara" he got the same recognition, but four years later. Since year 2000. he wrote five plays and formed genre "New serbian comedy". He gives the best of him to present that genre to the world. He created monodrama "Tesla returns to America" that is efficiently performed in ART theater in Belgrade by actor Miroslav Mihailovic. Some of his aphorisms are published in daily jurnals "Blic" and "Politika", as well as in magazine "Nosorog" ("Rhinoceros"). You can hear his comments on the radio, in the shov "Karavan" on "Radio Belgrade 1". He lives and works (only if necessarily) in Beli Potok (White Creek), single, it's unknown if he has children. Summarily that would be about everything that we know about Voja Radovanovic, everything else would be just a presumption. As The X files say: "The truth is out there..." If you would like to know anything else about that great man Voja Radovanovic, visit his webpage: www.novasrpskakomedija.biz.ly ***********************************************************O piscu Voji Radovanovicu se malo toga zna. Vise su to nagadanja i informacije iz trece ruke nego prava istina. A zasto je to tako? Zato sto on vec godinama uspesno izbegava da se pojavljuju u medijima, druzi sa svetskim dzet-setom i da daje intervjue, sve nerazumno tvrdeci da mu to pomaze da ostane normalan. Cak izbegava da se pojavljuje u javnosti, a gotovo da se na prste jedne noge mogu nabrojati srecnici koji su imali cast da ga upoznaju. Pise iskljucivo ''za svoju dusu'' i za one koji slicno razmisljaju kao on. Zahvaljujuci iskljucivo nekolicini zaljubljenika u knjizevnost koji su jedva uspeli da ga ubede da se postavi ovaj sajt, sira citalacka publika sada po prvi put ima priliku da se upozna sa njegovim radom. Od ono malo sturih podataka do kojih smo dosli, i koji su provereni, zna se da je roden 1963 g. Poceo je da pise jos sa pet godina (dosta nepovezano, i iz ovog perioda nazalost nije sacuvan nijedan pisani dokument), a kasnije pocinje ozbiljnije da stvara. U tom kratkom vremenskom razdoblju od pete do cetrdesete godine ostaje nepoznat u knjizevnim krugovima, a prica se da je na njega presudan uticaj imao susret sa jednim nasim poznatim piscem kog je video pijanog na ulici, i da je tada rekao: ''Hocu i ja da budem ovakav!'' I mada nije postao bas takav, poceo je da dobija prva priznanja za svoj rad. Za pripovetku ''Daca'' 2000g. dobija drugu nagradu ''Scene Crnjanski'' a za pricu ''Mara'' takode drgu nagradu ''Scene Crnjanski'' ali cetiri godine kasnije. U periodu od 2000g. do danas napisao je pet drama i formirao pravac ''Nova srpska komedija'' na cijem prezentovanju je trenutno angazovan. Za glumca Miroslava Mihailovica je napisao monodramu ''Tesla se vraca u Ameriku'' koja je sa uspehom izvodena u ART teatru. Neki od njegovih aforizama su objavljivani u dnevnim listovima ''Blic'' i ''Politika'', kao i u casopisu ''Nosorog'', a cesto se cuju i na talasima Radio Beograda 1 i emisiji ''Karavan''. zivi i radi, samo kad mora, u Belom Potoku. Neozenjen, ne zna se da li ima dece. To bi ukratko bilo ono sto se zna o njemu, sve ostalo je neprovereno, ili sto bi rekao agent Molder: ''Istina je negde tamo!''SAJT: www.novasrpskakomedija.biz.ly *********************************************************Pri nt on my first book "How I stayed single?" isn't even dry yet, and I could write a sequel right now. Since I don't have these ambitions I would like to tell you what hapened to me last few days in just a few words. Around half past noon, as I was pouring moving my hand temperately to spice my beans hotchpotch, that was coddling on 180 degrees, and sang a song that said "We used to eat very nice...", a telephone rang in the living room.I answered the phone inquisitively, hoping that somebody had missdialed my number, I heard a pleasing feminine voice. "Hello, my name is Suzana, may I speak to Mr. Voja Radovanovic?" "This is him" - I answered and continued - "I'm 43 yrs old, single, I like everything young people like. I also like Angelina Jolie, Pamela Anderson, Jenna Jameson. Some people say that I look like Rowan Atkinson (Mr. Bean)(it leaves special sensation on women). Not even looking toward what I have to say, she countinued saying that she is from one political party (I don't want to say wich one, it doesn't even matter) and asked me if I had time for some kind of opinion poll. "All right" - I said - "But it has to be a short one, I am cooking at the moment, I don't want to mess my dish." And so she started asking me questions like: "What are you satisfied with? What don't you like? What do you think about this and that politician?" and something like that for next few minutes. I was trying to think of anything nice, but I couldn't, so I started talking about bad stuff. I told her about this guy and that guy (I don't wanna say names, somebody would be upset that I didn't mention him), and she just kept waiting for me to lose my voice. And so I lost my breath. Once I carelesly made a break, that gentle and soft voice (oh, voice can decieve) had whispered in my ear: "Would you tell me who did you vote for?" My knees felt like they were made of glass. I quickly brought a chair wich I fell on. I thought to myself that maybe from the other side of the line is some ugly old woman with that soft and tender voice... Can it be? And is it possible that the community three months after elections didn't find out who did I vote for? Iwas astonished by the amount of ignorance. In good old days, something like that should be known even before elections. 104% and 0% against and there you go. I mean, we have to be a mess when people have to ask you who did you choose to vote for. And what's all that guaranteed electing privacy for? Is that why I hid behind the curtain, from where I accidentally took a pen (my favourite memory I got from elections). "Sir", silent voice stopped my conversation to myself, "are you still on the phone?" "Well, yes I am", I answered, "I know what you said. I remember that I did vote, just I can't remember, who did I chose. But, don't vorry, I wrote it somewhere, I am know that. I wrote it in my notebook with important dates, or the book of regrets, that's where I notify Serbian politicians statements. So, if you could give me your phone number, I will make sure to find that information and share it with you. If it matters, you have a lovely voice" The line failed, I don't know why. And they say so many good stuff about our telephony. I didn't even get to ask her if we could meet that night. A few neighbours praised that she called them to. Who knows, maybe they're jelous and they want me to feel bad. And as Bogart said in "Casablanca": "This could be a start of a beautyfull friendship..." ********************************************************* Model- Ima li ko pametan u ovoj drzavi da zastiti i nas radnicku klasu. Dobio sam otkaz na poslu a nemam kome da se zalim. I kako sada da prehranim porodicu? – pita me komsija dok smo se vozili na miting otpustenih radnika. Ja slegoh ramenima ali posto smo stajali odmah do vozaca, ovaj se okrete prema njemu i stize da ga upita: '' Kako bre covece?''Autobus se zaljulja, a komsija samo sto ne pade na kolena ali nekako zadrza ravnotezu.- Ti bolje gledaj kako vozis. – dobaci mu komsija i nastavi obracajuci se meni. – Eh, kako? Da ti pricam ne bi verovao!- Pricaj, pricaj! – cujem vozaca ali pridrzavam komsiju jer se autobus ponovo zaljulja.- Tog jutra kada sam krenuo na posao nista nije ukazivalo na katastrofu koja me je zadesila.Samo me je nesto bolela glava, ( valjda zbog ovog vremena ) pa kazem zeni da mi u dzep sakoa obavezno stavi i pilule protiv bolova, pa ako ne popusti popicu na poslu. Ti znas da je moj posao osetljiv i da moram da se skoncentrisem. Tu inprovizacije nisu dozvoljene.- A cime se bavis burazeru? – opet se okrete ka nama vozac, a ja i komsija se instiktivno uhvatismo jedan za drugog da bi preziveli jos jedno ljuljanje autobusa.- Ti znas – nastavlja komsija – da su me jedva primili na likovnu akademiju, bilo je povuci- potegni.- Znaci slikar! – cujem vozaca a pridrzavam komsiju.- Ja sam model, umetnicki model, i ja taj posao shvatam krajnje ozbiljno.I gledaj covece kako vozis! Mozda se neko od buducih svetskih umetnika ucio na meni, i nadam se da ce generacije koje dolaze znati da cene moj skromni doprinos u ovoj fazi njihovog razvoja.- Znaci slikaju te golog – prekrsti se vozac – pa sto covece ne nadje neki posten posao? Nesto kao policajac ili kao ja, vozac.- I kazem ti da me nije samo bolela glava, i da ne popih tablete sto mi je zena spremila, sve bi bilo drugacije.Posle se sve razjasnilo ali tad je vec bilo kasno. Umesto tableta za glavu, u dzep od sakoa mi stavila '' vijagru '' koju je kupila od kineza na pijaci.Kaze da cim je primetila zabunu, odmah je zvala na mobilni ali sta to vredi kad ja nisam mogao da na cas ponesem telefon.- Vijagra! Au, covece!!! Pricaj, pricaj!!! – uzviknu vozac i mi se jos jednom zaljuljasmo.- Kada je zvono oznacilo pocetak casa, ja skinem moj bade mantil, okacim ga na civiluk i sedajuci na stolicu zauzmem pozu Rodenovog '' Mislioca ''.Secam se da sam mislio kako do plate ima jos deset dana.Profesorka ide izmedu klupa i gleda sta ko crta. A ko za inat ispred mene neka studentkinja sedi u mini suknji i prekrstila noge.Ti znas da sam ja profesionalac i da sam ozenjen, ali sam i ziva dusa. A ona cas prekrsti noge na levu stranu, cas na desnu, i sve tako. Nikako da se smiri.Primetim odjednom da me glava vise ne boli ali osecam neku toplinu od kolena pa navise.Inace jedan prijatan osecaj.Srce poce brze da mi lupa, a poceh i da se znojim.Tu nesto ne valja, mislim se, kako meni sto sam go da bude vruce a ovima sto su obuceni nista. Ustanem ja da pitam profesorku da li mogu da odem do WC – a da se osvezim.Kako ja ustadoh, oni iz prvih redova prekrise rukama oci, a neki se i nasmejase. '' Ne moze, sedi dole. Cas je tek poceo! '' – cujem profesorku koja me i ne gleda vec se zadubila u crtez jednog sto slika.Ja se okrenem oko sebe ali ne vidim nista smesno.Jedan mi pokazuje prstom da pogledam dole.Ja se sagnem ali ni na podu nema nista.Ne mogu da dokucim zasto li se smeju a ovi oko mene ne prestaju.Primetim da se ona u minicu opruzila preko klupe ( posle su mi rekli da se onesvestila ) ali i cujem profesorku kako se svada sa jednim studentom.Govori mu kako je bezobrazan i nevaspitan, da ce ona njega poslati kod dekana na razgovor, i kako ona do sada u svom zivotu nije videla tako nacrtanog '' Mislioca ''. A onda je primetila mene kako stojim, krenula ka meni pa zastala, skinula naocare, obrisala staklo i ponovo me pogledala.'' A vi, vi...'' – jedva sam uspeo da je cujem od galame i smeha koji je nastao – vi odmah, odmah kod dekana!'' Ne znam sta joj bi ali resih da je poslusam i krenem ka vratima.- Stani! – presekao me je jos jednom njen glas. – Gde ste krenuli tako?- Pa rekli ste kod dekana!? – zbunjeno sam zamucao, dok su se neki studenti valjali od smeha.- Mantil! – vikala je na mene – Obucite vas bade – mantil!I tako, skoro za nista dadose mi otkaz.- Ha,ha,ha, - smejao se vozac gledajuci u nas – ha,ha,ha, znaci tebi se .....Nije stigao da zavrsi recenicu jer smo upravo prolazili kroz izlog jedne prodavnice.***********************************************