Forgiving. - Healing past wounds.

So a miracle is about to happen. And it is one week to go to Eastern, the old pagan celebration of resurrection and renewal and fertility (the red eggs!), the Christian celebration of Resurrection and - Forgivingness.
You have no idea how miracle-struck I am right now.
All of the sudden, in a matter of the seconds it takes to read a textmessage and translate the meaning of it to your brain, it hit me hard and I understood!

It is so unbeliavable that I don't know how to start or what to say actually. It has to do with life, love, fate, destiny, chances, growing and past and the now.
It has to do with a little Piranha, the wild child, who lost her heart and her hopes and her self-confidence when she failed to help the one person she loved most and a little Gypsy who lost his heart and his trust and his will to live when he ran into his big love back then, in one nasty night or dirty afternoon, moaning and rolling and sweating with a 40 year old guy, he saw and heard them and it tore him into pieces and he dropped everything and went on a mission - childish but who can blame him for he was a child until this moment! - to destroy himself, his heart, his memories because he couldn't kill her so he had to kill himself to get rid of the pain the memories and his betrayed beliefs and hopes that afflicted him every day and every sober second.

So one day this wild child and this Gypsy met and for some reason they felt they would have to write this chapter together. And they fell so deeply in love that they wanted to write a whole book but only God knows how life will change and how we will change but the will and the love and the wish is right there.
Walking the road together they held hands, kissed one beautiful milky way night at a hidden miraculous bay in Malibu, where the sand and the crushing waves shone neon white and green due to the plankton. And then they made love one wonderful moon night at Venice beach and they felt the presence of this girl around them, Sophia, and they went through hard times and good times and he said he gave her his heart.

But all she had really, was his wish to give it to her.
IN reality this heart was hidden beneath a nasty layer of pus, an unhealed wound that made it practically impossible for him to even let his heart be touched by the wind or my wings.

Nightmares and fears were rotting in his brain, fear is the opposite of love, how can you love when you are so afraid?

The wild child asked herself this question many times. She was desperate, she cried, she tried, she wondered, she enjoyed, she doubted. But no matter how much she tried to imagine different solutions to her problem, she never could imagine NOT being with him. It just didn't do it for her. So she stayed with him, she said, it's alright, it's alright, take anything you want from me, anything, anything, and sometimes though she would get so tired. so, so tired from his games. From this vacuum he made them be in. He couldn't enter her world, she wasn't allowed to enter his - matter of fact, he did everything to protect her from it. Sometimes she would get sad from contemptful comments he made about other people, about the world, sometimes even about her 'fairy tale world'. But she remained silent, yelled every now and then and kept reaching out to him...

Until one day...

this Saturday afternoon....

He told her...

that he had this nightmare. Every night. since a week. Her, fucking somebody else, and every time in the dream he put a gun in his mouth, as a solution.

It took her two seconds to realize: It's not ME. It is Magdalena. She might have my face but it is her in the dream. And: That's why I couldn't sleep those past nights. It is very unusual for me not to be able to fall asleep. I couldn't. Until early early in the morning. I didn't know why but now I know it was out of sympathy for him. I couldn't eat after graduation because I was so worried about him, although he said he was alright. Matter of fact, though, I just seem to feel those things. He went through an extremely bad depressive patch and wanted to kill himself. So much for 'I'm alright!' and not lying. And opening up to your love...

Being in a relationship means, you can help each other. you can grow with each other. you don't have to continue fighting every battle by yourself. Some, yes. But others, not.

The bottom line of this story is, that I will not allow sexuality in our relationship until he fixes his heart. I loved making love to him. I want to do that again. I can't deal with a broken heart no more. It is like, when you don't learn your lesson, it will be repeated in your life somehow. I don't want that for us! I want him to move on so he can love me and be with me without those everlasting fears, this annoying suspicion about every guy friend I have and every move I dance when I go out alone.

And the only way he can heal his heart is by forgiving her. And assuming responsibility for his life and for his gifts that he received from the divine. And forgiving starts with compassion. THATS WHY I am actually happy that he is friends with that bitch Janet, because he told me earlier, that she reminds him of his ex and that he feels bad for her. Yeah, she is a whore, she is maybe a lost or a seeking soul. I always defended her and I always defended Magdalena too. He has to learn to feel compassionate towards those souls and lives and then forgive whatever they did to him. And first things first! First he has to forgive HIMSELF and embrace himself, everything he did. He hates so much about his past. But hate and fear and comtempt is the pus in his heart. He has to learn how to allow the Christ in his heart, if you want to put it this way, and accept the healing power of forgivingness, accept the help of somebody else!!!! Ask for it! Because alone you are too weak.

And the beauty of all this is - how we both got a second chance. He has no idea how much it meant to me when he simply stopped smoking weed just because it bothered me. You have to understand. Weed and other drugs have been my severest rival over so many years. They killed my love. I have the chance to actively love now, with a person with a similar fate like my Pedro. We can work it out!!! And he can learn how to love someone like me, who is so openhearted and world-loving and overspilling of joy and love for life, without fears.


And what he wrote, ah, so dear to my heart:

I understand sweety. Fully. And I decided to let you help. I wanna let you be completely involved in my life'

Halleluja, yehaaa! Hooray!!! That's a permission for me to go and to the work....

there's always been this little Shaman inside of me.... a little soul doctor... a little resolute madre maria dola rosa......

like, in everyone of us

ani difranco and fairy tale rules

In loop right now 'Done Wrong' by Ani Difranco who I just discovered...Great lyrics. Damn...

People like her absolutely encourage me to go further on my way of musical exploration. The only thing I am really lacking still, is the courage to go on stage and perform no matter what and get better right there. I am still so scared but I will get over it. I know it.

Ah, yeah, life. I was just thinking today while I was cleaning: Doesn't this bitch Janet have a least bit sense of decency and respect? Maybe she is not aware of it, but I don't get to see my love very much. What the fuck. You wanna spend the night with us??? WHAT THE FUCK???? I shouldn't have played it cool. I should have reacted cool but tell him what I think about THAT. Why doesn't she go to one of her thousand lovers that she betrayed her ex with? Huh? Why does she have to spoil one of the rare opportunities for me to be alone with my love?? WHY doesn't he get that and told her by himself???? So helpful, my love, you are so fucking helpful.
I say: FIRST THINGS FIRST. First you show me that this is going to work. First you give me what I need. You say I am never happy, it s never enough. But hey wait a minute, read with me these lyrics:

'How could you do nothing and say I'm doing my best'?

That's how I feel. I don't know how difficult really your situation is and how much of a big accomplishment it is for you to actually come out here and visit me, but hey, it's me who makes it a beautiful thing then. Don't get me wrong, i love you. I love being with you. And you make me feel good. You are funny. You make me laugh and I feel how much you love me and care for me. But I haven't seen the effort coming yet, the effort the prince has to make to get the princess.

See, I am going to stick to that from now on. I think it is a great idea that we can learn from fairy tales... The tasks the prince has to accomplish before getting the princess. Very good concept.
First, there are three riddles. And then you have to go and fight, kill the monster (the inner monster?! it's all metaphorically!!) and win the kingdom. And as a reward you get me and my kingdom and boy, my kingdom is mind blowing. It's huge and it's insanly beautiful. You get it doubled. You get back so much more. But first you have to go out there, solve the riddles and fight. And my job as the princess or queen is it to demand relentlessly and without pardon the best of you, because it is in you and needs to be challenged. And when you come home from the good war it is my job to make you feel good, comfort and heal you and encourage you and thank you. I will do that.

Where is your part. If you really want to be with me forever you need to grow up. I can wait, but I can't put up with this bullshit too much longer anymore.

Ha. And what resulted from this Janet thing? I called Ana, the girl in whose apartment I am staying at and now the new rule is nobody can stay there except for me. My love is not coming out here next week and I will yet again have to wait....And all those fucking uncried tears and fierce emotions just gonna scribble whatever they will into my heart and my job as an artist will be to decipher it and make something out of it..

How do they say? Absence is to love like wind to fire: It extinguishes the small and enkindles the big.

So we will see.

Whether you are ready to see that you ARE a prince.


'Done Wrong'

The wind is ruthless
The trees shake angry fingers at the sky
The people hunch their shoulders
Hold their collars over their ears and run by
It’s a cold rain
It’s a hard rain
Like the kind that you find in songs
I guess that makes me the jerk with the heartache
Here to sing you about how I’ve been done wrong

And I am sitting, watching
Out the window of the coffee shop
And I am waiting, waiting
Waiting for it to let up
I am rocking like a cradle
Warming my hands with the cup in between
I am leaning over the table
Holding my face over the steam

And before it gets so cold
That the rain turns to snow
There’s just a couple things
I’d like to know

Like how could you do nothing
And say, I’m doing my best
How could you take almost everything
And then come back for the rest
How could you beg me to stay,
Reach out your hands and plead
And then pack up your eyes and run away
As soon as I agreed

It just all slips
Away so slowly
You don’t even notice till you’ve lost a lot
I’ve been like one of those zombies
In vegas
Pouring quarters into a slot
And now I’m tired
And I am broke
And I feel stupid and I feel used
And I’m at the end of my little rope
And I am swinging back and forth
About you

Before it gets so cold
That the rain turns to snow
There’s just a couple things
I’d like to know

Like how could you do nothing
And say, I’m doing my best
How could you take almost everything
And then come back for the rest
How could you beg me to stay,
Reach out your hands and plead
And then pack up your eyes and run away
As soon as I agreed

the bar, anais nin and number five

By the way,
I am sitting right now in the restaurant/bar that I read Anais Nin in with my wife, back in the days, yeah.
And that's where I met number 5.
you know...you understand wife, right?
And he called me the other day. And send me a message
'Hey Beautiful. All is well with me. Still just doing school, work and music. I miss u, and want 2 see you. Hope you have some time 4 me.'

Yeah RIGHT!!!!

You hope that your romantic visionary got rid of her lover and her relationship and has time to make this dream come ture?

yeah right.

don't fuck with me.

It makes me angry.

and the combination of worrying about love, life, this bar, anais nin, my wife and number five
makes me wonder

and that, did I say that already

makes me fucking angry!!!!!

when jealousy kicks in

yeah. jealousy. we all know this feeling. it means, we are not perfect. it means we are probably not real Christians, Buddhists or Muslims after all. Means we are human becomings, I GUESS.

You know this feeling when you get a sick feeling from being too much in love. Too intense, too meaningful, too much for your fucking age.

See, someone told me. Why wait with marrying? I mean, there was this girl, she was with a guy for six years, broke up and married a guy that she knew for six months then. That's probably a feeling of certainty or despair that makes things pretty clear, doesn't it.

I admit, it feels kinda good to be on my own. I live alone now, in an apartment of my friend, for a month. I am back to NORMAL, I reconnected to my creative inner self, I can breathe and live. I am sad and frustrated that I saw my boyfriend in the last 21 days for only 3 wonderful days, but actually it feels good to be able to go to a restaurant, drink a wine, think and write and be by myself without having to deal with ANYBODY. yah!

Then he finally can come again. Monday. But this time his ride is Janet, the only girl in this world I just cannot trust with regards to him. She is a fucking snake and I know that. She is filthy. But she is also the one person he could connect to as a friend. (WHAT IS A FRIEND in America????) I told him how I feel about her. Just as he told me about all the guys I am friends with and that he cannot trust and feels bad about.

Yes, I am JEALOUS, jealous that she is the one he can actually 'talk' to. Great. Am I your best friend or not? Ok. relax. So She needs a place to CRASH. He told her she could crash with US. and asks me whether thats OKAY with me.

Halleluja! What am I supposed to say now, huh? Of course I have to play cool and say it is okay.
But DON'T FUCKING ASK ME TWICE!!!! I might start thinking and find its not okay. What the fuck. I never made you sleep in the same room like my guy friends. Ever. and the only time I actually visited one of them was when you couldn't fucking pick me up from the train station. At the night before my birthday. FCUK THAT!!!!

You can have your friends. Go ahead. I ll play cool. I get along with her, in fact, I was 'friends' (Acquaintance!) with her before you. WHATEVER!

But all in all - right now I feel so WEIRD. and I feel so exhausted. I want to go back and live my life. I mean, thats what I do right now, too, of course, but it's very obvious to me, that I cannot stay in America even though I love you very much. I was ready to move to fucking Zimbabwe with Mugabe and everything when I was in love with David. But that was impulsive and crazy. That was a one minute decision. That was absolutely out of this world. And Zimbabwe is not America. After all.
My mother moved to Europe, for herself first and then she stayed there for my Dad. That's love, huh? But she was never happy. Maybe because she wasn't in balance herself, whatever you can blame it on, but matter of fact, she always carried this extreme homesickness inside herself. When you've been to Alaska you'll understand. The energy there is AMAZING. It blows you away. And whenever she went there and came back she looked ten years younger, blossoming, energetic.

I am NOT going to repeat her fate. That's not my job. I am the one with roots, and I realized I need them to keep on growing. You were the one who said you'd follow me whereever and support my studies and everything. Because you are not bound. I don't know love, I don't know. Everybody is bound to some extend. It seems more and more like an extreme decision to me to cut everything off and go somewhere entirely new... Your life might be like that and lead you there, I probably wouldn't mind living in Latin America. But sorry, I am here since six months and I know already that I can't stay here. I am going to study at the east coast next school year, but I have this feeling in my little toe, that even that won't convince me. It simply feels WRONG to me. For me, my life, my personality, my way.

I don't whether that means I don't love you enough. I hope it doesn't. It's just, I don't have to REPEAT my parents fate. I don't want to, matter of factly. I don't. East Europe is freaking exploding right now. That's where I wanna be. I want to live in Italy. Or Greece. Or Romania, for God's sake. But not the States. No offense, but even you don't really like it here. But I guess that's not the point. Unfortunately.

Berlin, I'll be back. I have to move on. Maybe not Berlin. Maybe Paris. Maybe Bucharest. I can't stay in Missouri for you. My father was right.... I am not the kind of person that can stay anywhere because of a guy. It's not good for me and what I always felt I have to do in my life. Me too, I dream of a family in the country side. Don't get me wrong. But if it matters to me, where that would be, and to you rather not, what should we do????? Follow you or follow me????

It makes me think of L. Cohen's song...

'I can't follow you my love. You cannot follow me'

It aches.

Lord knows I can enjoy Myself

Well you'd probably need around 300 $ to go to Frisco he said. Depending on how long you'd stay.

No! I said. No! What for? It's 100 $ for the bus back and forth. Where is the money?

But you'd have to stay at a hotel.

Lord, no! I'd stay with friends or people from the hospitality club! I'd eat once a day and maybe they would feed me a little too....

You just don't know how to enjoy yourself! God, Piranha! You don't go there to starve! You go there and buy crazy stuff that you'd never buy otherwise and have a good time!!!

I paused. SERIOUSLY puzzled.
Wait, wait. This is not the way I travel honey! No ways! What the fuck! what is eating your brain? Is capitalism slowly corrupting your mind from the inside?? BUYING stuff! there is nothing wrong with that but if you can't there is nothing wrong with that either! For Gods sake! Look around how beautiful this world is, how he/she made it for us!

I'd go there to see and to do things. I'd go there to live, encounter adventures openminded, my arms wide open to whatever may come. This is the way I travel.

AND DON'T you DARE saying I don't know how to enjoy myself ever again! My way of enjoying things is simple and beautiful and satisfying and LASTING. the other day I was walking down the street and had this flashback to this trip we made to North France for three weeks. it was cheaper than your 300$ for Frisco!!! three weeks! I still FEED of this trip! I felt so miserable and just thinking of it made me happy, you know, JOYFUL.

Well, it s good you have trips too, to have flashbacks to he said dryly. I have that too...

well i hope you enjoy them I snapped back.

but it s sad i thought. It's sad.

the way how I learned to enjoy is not at ALL connected to money in any way. Drugs cost. If you steal them or engage in criminal activities to get them it's wrong. What goes around comes around. Called Karma. Products cost. Labels cost. Prestige costs.

THE PURE SHEER JOY THAT GOD SPILLED OVER EVERYTHING HE CREATED DOESN'T COST ANYTHING.

or whoever created it. you get my drift.

you just need the eyes and the will to see. and there is nothing more enjoyable and beautiful for me than being on the road, with one dry piece of bread in one pocket and some water in a bottle in the other pocket. Seriously thats it. And then there are people that you meet on the road, good hearted people and one helps the other. Thats how it has been working for me ever since I stopped going with my dad on trips.

beauty of the space

ahhhhh!
back!!!!!!!

the inner space. considering how many paths there are in this world that proclaim the acquisition of said inner space it is quite excusable that I still depend on outer circumstances to maintain this space, to a large extend at least. I am just a Human Becoming, you know!!!!

So even in Berlin when I was sharing this tiny room with my roommate from Sibiria I was better off: I had my own space, my walls with my pictures and photos and my table and my closet you know! The last five months I had none of that. None. Everything was my sister's. Even the camper couldn't be my space because she is so picky about her stuff. there is nothing wrong with that, Lord, no, but that's how it was. I kept telling myself, if you travelled, you wouldn't have your 'own' space either. But that was WRONG! because when you are on the road you DO have your own space: the sky!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the road! the minutes alone. nobody to bother you. yeah. thats it!!!!

Two weeks ago I moved into my friend's apartment. She can't be here for a month and so I can stay in her apartment. Yeah, this too, isn't really my room but I am alone there. I can cook, I can have my photos and stuff however I want it. I can play guitar whenever I want it, I can cry when I am sad I can moan when I make love I can laugh loud when I feel like it and listen to the music I like and there is no TV nonstop going and no akward feelings that I did yet something else wrong or didn't live up to the many expectations from the people around me. I can be with my love and not feel bad about it. I can live.

so I was walking the streets the other day and hey, suddenly I had these ideas for art installations. for projects. the old me. Always something up in my mind!!! I felt like I FUNCTION again!!!
I've missed that Piranha so much! Man it s fucking crazy!!! It's SO amazing and scary too, how much I seem to need this outer private space in order to open up this space inside of me that feeds of the creative energy and feeds in turn my identity. It's plainly gorgeous and insanly awesome to be back to this state of being.

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT!!!!

and now, lets get something done!

from the city of fallen angels

fallen angels....
I think of Therese a wonderful young woman who was blossoming and shining and she is going her way with the dignity of a fallen angel.
angels don't know how to cry.
and she knows the bitter sweet taste of salty water
and she knows that bitter sweet taste of shattered dreams
and she knows the bitter sweet taste of hope when it gets attacked by nasty reality
and she knows the bitter sweet taste of thin red blood
and she knows herself now a little bit more

and she moves on. never abandoning her wings but using her feet
and she moves on planting new seeds of love
and she moves on with tears in the corner of her mouth
and she moves on with a song in her heart

a song for the fallen angels
a song for the fairytales
a song for the lost hopes that swirl around in the atmosphere
a song for those who don't know what tears taste like
a song for those who don't know what a lie tastes like
a song for those who don't believe the convictions and the courage of the past
a song for those who fall for tomorrow
a song for those who are not in peace

hale to you Therese
hale to you lady in red
hale to you lady who lost her innocence and maintained it in her heart
hale to you lady who bares the dignity of a mater dola rosa without losing the affection for the now
hale to you my friend.

do you remember how we took photos on the top of the military buildings one sunny afternoon outside of Berlin

beautiful daughter of mine

I was walking the streets of Rome all by myself. The clouds and the winds made love in the afternoon and my steps led me through the insane touristic carneval to magical places, as if following an invisible red line that some angels had prepared for me long time before I even came to see.
This is how I found the dessous shop in which I acquired the wonder-bra with which I share many miraculous stories, this is how I found the church under which I shared an evening meal with two precious friends and heard old Sicilian mafiosi play on my guitar and sing as if it was redemption day.This was how this waiter invited me to drink whatever I wanted because he was a billionaire who wants to be normal and do something good all 7 years to somebody entirely unknown to him. He wanted to give me a Michel Angelo Original and lots of money, I left, half drunk, when my intuition told me so, smoked a cigarette, got really dizzy or high from that, took a bus to the hotel and stared at all those people around me in a whirl of thoughts on life, human beings and clouds that were drifting through my mind.
And this is how I found Adrian, the guy I fell in love with for one night. The last night. It was late, the club already closed and my friends had left. I was alone there, with this angel who for some reason had crossed my way. we did not protect. I almost felt like in Jim Jarmusch's 'Night on Earth' in the scene where the taxidriver in Rome sees this couple making love in the streets. In the morning I drove home in a bus, without looking back, smiling into the fresh sun.
when I arrived in my old hometown I didn't know whether or not I was pregnant. I wasn't scared. But, Lord knows, you can't stop thinking about it! It was golden sunny and - silent in my old hometown. Funny how you regocnize some things only when you come back. Down the street next to the old Newspaper location vis a vis to the old marketplace that saw me growing up I suddenly felt her presence around me.
I saw, or should I rather say i FELT this little gorgeous girl walking next to me. Skipping, jumping, running, holding my hand. Her hair was black, long and curly, but she was white. - Thus she couldn't be merely a projection of my wish to have 'chocolate-babies' and my affection for coloured people. But the crazy thing was: Adrian was blonde!!! And the even more crazier thing is: My love's hair is BLACK AND CURLY. And she was absolutely his daughter! I mean, when I think about it now...how she looked like. She could have SO been his daughter. - our! daughter. Herself. coming unto life through us. what a blessing. she's not there yet but still....it is VERY strange. very very.

Skip fast forward to somewhen in January 2006. A beautiful night, the moon caressing two young people at Venice Beach, listening to the sound of crushing waves and the sweet sound of overwhelmed lovers. It was the first coming together of me and my lover after such a long time of taking it slow. We didn't have anything to protect and we didn't risk anything. Not this time.

I looked at him and I looked in his beautiful eyes and I was overwhelmed by this certaintly that painted my thoughts in my soul: If we would make love now, here, I know, that I would be pregnant. I just know it with the certainty of a womans intuition. And her name would be S_____. Yeah. And the crazy crazy thing was, he knew it too. And now I just have to pray that she ll wait a little. beautiful daughter of mine. you already touched my heart. and we love you since the beginning of time

the good and the bad and the ugly and the beautiful

Already long ago I've realized that I am not a child of the so called 'fun' generation. The expression 'have fun' is casual and you can hear it from me too but in reality i think that's crap. I don't mind hardship, I don't mind difficult times, injuries or tears if you just live your life fully and courageous, - well, if I really think about it I think I am a real sucker for BEAUTY. If you try to make things BEAUTIFUL it is always worth the effort. Even tragic events can be beautiful in a way, you know? Tears can be beautiful. life can be beautiful. Fun goes by, beauty is carved into the soul like hyroglyphs into stone. Beauty is the food for the soul, not the fastfood, the good old fashioned slow food.
Beauty in the sense of 'DONE WITH LOVE'. Anything you do with love is beautiful. Subway for example. They have pretty decent food, if you compare it to Mac D, I mean for a poor student like me that's like the better option. But I feel tempted each and single time I buy a sandwich there to ask them whether they maybe could make the sandwich with love for me. You know? When your Mom cooks and she loves you and she loves cooking for you it is a whole different story, right?

So subway sandwiches are really not beautiful if you think about it.

Monday night I made love for the first time in my whole life. I am 23 years old and you might be surprised or even pityful for me, that this was suppposedly the first time, but I tell you, it is never to late for that. I made love, many times, to my boyfriend, but this time it was like man, REAL LOVE. You know? It was a trip. It was a blast. It was REALLY REALLY BEAUTIFUL.
Finally, finally, after all these days of worrying and being sad and missing him he came to visit me for three long days that we lived most of the time in seclusion in the apartment I have right now, listening to the raindrops falling, looking at the leaves blinking in the sun and playing guitar together, listening to music, cooking, watching movies and finally, finally talking.
This guy is such a precious stone and his soul is so beautiful. Like they say, the eyes are the window to the soul and his eyes are incredibly beautiful. The way they look you know?

God, I am so much in love now, all over again, I can't help it. It is such a beautiful thing. LOVE.

And he managed to say all these beautiful things that he had jokingly reversed earlier which had turned me as a result very insecure. But now I felt he was being serious about it. He treated me finally as the princess and queen I am, the goddess of love and he touched my soul with his magic fingers. He showed appreciation for my music, which in turn made me open up even more to him, he told me how good a cook I am (my dad would relly laugh hearing that), how beautiful I am and all that good stuff :))
we had some arguments and we came to conclusions and we made GOOD FOOD. and love

Gott sei gedankt

jesus christus - confessions of a warrior of the rainbow

The mother of my very very dear friend Viola is what you call psychic around here. Matter of fact, she has healed herself from mental illness (some might claim she is still there) and has explored energetic healing from the asian medicine and broadening it further and further until she really attained capabilities that surprised yours truly.
The moment I gained trust in what she was doing was when our rabbit who was injured reacted to her treatment in an astounding way. There is no way that could have been faked. This rabbit REACTED clearly to what she was doing and god knows, rabbits are not like us, biased and suspicious all the time.
Things got even more amazing when she contacted the spirit of the rabbit and started talking in tongues - she said it was rabbit tongue - and again, Lord knows, this wasn't made up. That was channeled and you can come with any sort of explanations and excuses and what not: you weren't there. You wouldn't say all this had you been there. so just believe me for a change.
One day, she was working with me and Viola on issues we had in our class, she said that I was from the realm of Jesus Christ. I was younger and I didn't dare to ask so much, but from what I figured I understood that she meant that different souls have different tasks and intentions on earth and that I was coming from the close realm of the Spirit of Jesus Christ (I don't know, maybe some are closer to other Spirits but I won't get into that nor do I claim here to know whether or not Jesus Christ is or is not the same Spirit as God. I don't know. And maybe it is even not necessary to know.) and therefore were here on earth on a mission to serve in the Spirit of Him. Those who know me, know that I am not at all someone who is talking about this at all too much. I mean, I hardly ever quote the bible (because I haven't read it) or say 'this is what Jesus would do' or whatever. I think it often though. When I walk past beggars and homeless I cringe at the fact that I don't help all of them. I think 'Jesus would give them what they need' so I try to give as I can, I have an abundance of smiles and love, so I give of that and they crave that and love it, trust me. And when I have money, I give. I don't like to support addictions but when somebody makes an effort to gain money, i.e. makes music on the street, I ll give. I love. Unconditionally.
Well, the reason why I am writing this is the following: for some reason I attract people who are mentally instabile, who are prone to becoming schizophrenic or other forms of mental illness, people who therefore probably experiment(ed) a lot with drugs and who maybe are just vampires for my good energy. Thats what bad tongues would say, but I am not stupid. I know how to protect myself. I was blessed with parents who have sung the same protective song for and with me every night until I was 13 or so. This is a huge gift, I tell you. In the night when the devil visited my boyfriend (name it devil or whatever you like) he found out that everything he had based his life on - that is music, modern music - didn't help him a bit. The only thing that helped was singing this one song that his mother had taught him when he was five through the whole night.
I smiled. I know about the power of these songs. Let psychologists have their theories about associative powers of memory and other placebo effect like explanations, I don't care. I take it for what it is: A powerful spring. And my parents gave me this incredible gift, the key to this source, this spring, my Waldorf school was an incredible way of acquiring tools (weapons!) to face this world and this life entirely and frontal and as it is: Therefore I give. Therefore I am a warrior and I am not afraid. Because I am a sucker for goodness, for love, for forgivingness. I love this world SO SO SO incredibly much. all of it.

And BECAUSE I am sitting at this spring, with its unconditional love, smiles, embrace and power, I feed the hungry and give water to the thirsty. And I know how to distinguish between the thirsty and hungry, the starving, and the vampires. Don't get me wrong. I KNOW HOW TO PROTECT ME. THIS is the most valuable and incredible gift my parents ever gave me. The means of protection of my spirit and my soul and a healthy lifestyle for my body...

And I am so surprised , so so so surprised as to how life, again, has sent me a stranger, a lover, who is at the verge of falling. Everything seemed so easy and so light and so - easy. Yeah, easy to me, in the beginning. Wild Child, no restrictions, no boundaries, just love. Love grew to commitment, to relationship, to opening up, to digging deep into the depths of our souls and I found a broken raven bird in my right left palm.
This wonderful being who had treated me so beautifully and brought back love and sex, body mind and soul together for me, was broken deep inside and longing for a remedy but yet rejecting it in every form I started trying to give it to him.
Yet another life lesson. I knew from my big youth love Pedro that there is nothing you can do. And I knew the pain and the tears and the sadness that lay ahead and I wasn't afraid because I have never been and maybe thats due to me being from the realm of Jesus Christ. My love will buy me a bible and he will read it to me. I never have. I am a free spirit. My father has raised me this way. He knew, that one day I would eventually read the great book and I would find my own way. No,. I am not turning all of the sudden fundamentally Christian. I've always been close to God and thats not a loophole my love. I am living this life, that you were talking about.
I wake up, with the intention to do God's will here. I wake up with a smile. I open my eyes to the beauty of life, to the gifts and I don't shun the tasks and the hardship that comes along. I don't close my eyes from the evil and the sad and the bad and the dirty and I don't shun working, oh yes, I am struggeling. I am lazy. I have my issues. But all in all. I am there. And I love every single bit of it and I am ready to take it on.
I am the mother who wants to protect her children, the planet, the life. I am the lifegiving Goddess who shines in the love of God.
I am the loving messenger of Jesus Christ, because we all are, he is in us, who loves Maria Magdalena just as he loves Judas.

And I have always loved you. Always. And I always will.

lovesong for my stranger

bringing back
the every day
nitty gritty
relationship work stuff
of course must have appeared
very weird
to someone
who just
talked to the devil
and realized
that his whole life
was based on things
that oh
so do NOT matter.

ah, my stranger. my love has been
and will be
in eternity
the wings of your guardian angel
he is trying to get through to you
you've been veiling yourself off
for oh so long
and now he is trying to talk
and love
and gently
explain to you
that love is
when
it matters

It all was once upon a time...

It all happened and it is all true. The shoe came with the devil and never let go of our memories and plagiarized pains ever again. In the voice of a man there is something that makes every woman on this planet understand when something is not right. when something is wrong and he won't admit it.

lay lady lay

this song transports my mind back into the world of ours when we found an escape in the middle of the night, in the shelter of a couple of clouds and the silver moon shining mildly and friendly as the time passed and you hold onto me and i cried and you said you are just so tired of it all.
we both had the dream of running away and just to live on a fram and lead a peaceful life. happy. you were tired and i was crying for you, for you not being able to break through to my world. i broke into your world, your world of grey and you said I am the only real seeming thing right there in your life, as your mind was still occupied by the grey veils of the past...acid, spped, lsd, amphetamines, crack, coke, weed, marihuana. you name it, i blame it.

and you are the best thing he's ever seen
stay lady stay
stay with your man a while

that's all i wanted. staying with you.

you can have a cake and eat too

sometimes.

when he's standing in front of you
lay lady lay
lay across my big brass bed

he never had such a bed and he was never a man really to me. someone who is able to take his own life in his own hands and cuts lose the dead ends. but no, it was too early and now it happened. I told him, I am there, consider me too. But he was ready to accept the consequences to what he was doing. and now, i am sure, he is sitting there and has a hard time not to regret because of me....

whatever colors you have in your mind
i show them to you
and you see them shine


lay lady lay
lay across my big brass bed.....

what a good time that was....

in limbo

I am losing myself
and it is a perfect day to do so. they sky is grey and plenty the opportunities but they drift by just as the clouds do and lack of mobility and activity leads you to the strangest corners of the town. the same, still the same. because, explorer spirits don't have access to limbo, it is the perfect down ward spiral and nobody to blame. everything is better now. the past. the memories. the tomorrow. never the now because the now has been caught and murdered by my own greedy self.
the problem with limbo is, when you jump you still just hang in there.
and then, trying to break it,
I destroy everything
including
the me and the myself

what remains is the I and the eye of the beholder

it is

..

so. - strange

the urge to hurt

what you love most.
self defiance.
jealousie.
rage.
disappointment.
fury.
wrath.
too much love aimed into nowhere.
no real response.
you go
and you do
what hurts most

I start... to ... understand.






so hell yeah! this guy calls. after 30 something. know him from the trainstation at Santa Barbara. He wanted to teach me how to paraglide. on my birthday. I went home, my love couldn't pick me up. I was all sad but it was a good time anyways. Now he calls again. Turns out, he is in FUCKIN LAKE ELSINOR. now, how cool is that. thats where my love was every night of the past week, that's where the house is where he grew up and that's where he can't take me to. so. what a freaking coincidence. going to fly with this guy THERE makes such a bitter sweet revenge for a lack of care. i can't blame my love really. sometimes you've got to take care of yourself first, in order to be able to function at all. but still. ahhh, what a sweet bitter poise. he would come and pick me up with his motorcycle. ahhh, sweet, bitter poise.

like a poem made from the sea

for you
He walked up to me, I could see the love and the insecurity and the longing and the regret and the carefullly evaluating thoughts painted in his pale face. He smiled as he saw me sitting against the wall, nodding my head away to music he couldn't hear. Hey my love.
It seemed as if we hadn't seen each other in years whereas in fact it had been only five or six days. An eternity. My heart jumpstarted right there. I packed my stuff, carefully as to win a little time, akward time, and continued my dance on egg shells.
Traffic...Friday night...I am so pissed....I don't have much time...
Why don't you stay with me my love
I can't. Please.
why
Please, I just have to go.
Words just seem to never come true.
At the appartment I went to the kitchen and grabbed some apple sauce. The ktichen was slumberly dark. He grabbed me around my waste. With one hand balancing the applesauce with the other hand caught up in his curly black hair my body flooded over him like the high tide. The bed squeaked. I stopped, ate the apple sauce, carefully, slowly, smiling at him. He was already gone, washed away by passion and the lack of physical attention during the last past days.
I have to see you tonight, he had said. I need to see you, kiss you. Otherwise I am going to explode.
Yeah right, I had thought, yeah right. You need a fix. But what about love.
I fell right there. Into his eyes, into the abyss of desperate and intense longing, we tried to hold on to each other while wild rhythms of love beat our bodies up. Like drummers in the dark did desire and love and lust dance their greedy dances. The phone rang - like what? didn't somebody say, whenever you ARE you should turn your phone off? - in the middle of mystically prescribed ways, circeling patterns that the oceans taught us long long time ago. It was like a thrill, reality check one two. He has to go. A little longer. A little longer. But not far enough for me. Him leaving tore just another hole into my heart. Don't think it isnt torture for me either. I can't say anything. sometimes, sometimes, despite all kingdoms you know you have, you have to let go of the queen inside of you and just take what you can get. Without regret.

I didn't even want to go so far. I thought we wouldn't do it.
Me neither. I actually was quite sure I would say no.
I mean, you are my girlfriend. I said to myself we would sit down and talk.
yeah. we laughed.
we did talk, in a better way. But you didn't really hear me. You were washed away. Who can blame you. I can blame you. Blame you for not being here enough to learn how to listen. There is no instant listening programme. There is no such thing. Even not in America.

depth, growth, meaning, sense, and all that crap

It's not like I can't be happy by myself. You know. I have this ability. I can be down at the ground but I will always get up again and as somebody who loved me once said, I always wake up with a smile on my face.
Furthermore, I can totally immerse myself into music, into rhythm and there are a lot of vampires out there. And there also a lot of people out there who know how to truly appreciate a member of the smiley race and how to make the queen fly.

yeah.

dance baby, dance

and then -

run

to freak out or not to freak out, that is the question

yeah. whereas the most essential for the rest of humanity has always been 'to be or not to be' it is definetely 'to freak out or not to freak out' for drama queen women like me. And we are only called Drama Queens because human beings have the insatiable urge to label and box and explain just about everything.
Doesn't fit in?
Listen to fucking Drum'n'Bass motherfucker!!!!
for this matter, here a nice little link that I personally sorta kinda like: www.epitonic.com
so this is my refuge. music. once more. the drug.
Now check this out: never go out of your way too much for a lazy ass boyfriend. It was such a unique and overwhelmingly gorgeous thing that he said how much he misses me and has to come out here TONIGHT to see me for an hour or so (yeah right) that I immediately dropped the idea of performing at an open mic session at a Cafe my friend told me about. I fucking dropped it, because I wanted to see my love. Now, I even didn't think of asking him to come out there because I know he doesn't have a car and can't ask his friends to drive him all over LA. So see, it's not like I am not understanding or comprehensive of his situation.
But so I am fucking waiting here. First I waited where he had wanted me to wait. But now I am where I was because I have wireless here and fuck, blogging is probably the best solution for this 'to freak out or not to freak out' question.
I mean, hey, I don't want to spoil this one time I can see him! I am so fucking putting up with it, I don't know myself anymore. FUCK THAT!!!!!!! But I love him just a little too much. FREAK!
who knows....
I am still a big fan of life.
But I should have gone
1) to the Cafe and play
2) wait where I wanted to wait from the start
3) leave a long time ago

thats about it.
a temporarily true snap shot of my freaking female mind.

now go and enjoy motherfucking downtempo 'Herbert" 'Leave me now"

good night

changes from nothing to one

'you know who I am
you've stared at the sun
well I am the one who loves
changes from
nothing
to one..'

L.Cohen

loops

disclaimer: YES I am jerking off on this page. big time. no claims for valuable writing. not now.

Loops. lollipop. sob.
Don't we just have to abandon that what hurts most? Get rid of the pain that hinders us to unfold our beautiful beings? Get rid. Hm. I can't believe it. It is the same yet different. A lonely night, just, now, with cigarettes. Damn yeah. I am still myself. i am still going somewhere

and there in the cold somewhere are you. biting your nails and struggling in some way or the other. A glove on the street. A weird mindset. And I remember faintly how I cried and stayed up until early in a different time, in a different place but yet the same. A person you love too much, a person too far away, some sweet memories and a broken longing heart. It is so ridiculous how we loop through our lives.

so was that what I was looking for? Riding wild and reckless along my way what I chose to be my way, and in the end it wasn't up to me at all. Like this little girl that I once was, that didn't know where the breaks were. I wrecked the bike. And then I hid it in the bushes and ran. ran, like the wind.

it makes me sad

ultimatum

so there i am again. in a ridiculous fit of homesickness for berlin, sitting outside a shitty social welfare apartment in a shitty part of Santa Monica and one beautiful star in the night sky. at least the stars are still there. or at least they uphold the illusion...I stare at the powerbook screen. dirty. it is my sister's. mine is dirty, too. she and I.
when everything seems to crack and crumble...it is cold. I am shivering.

tears are dwelling behind myself. self pity is so pathetic. American Spirit lasts long, thanks God. glowing and glimmering in the dark, a substitute for a campfire, celebrating the absolute loneliness that creeps up from behind.

YOU CAN'T JUST GO BACK WHEN YOU FALL. GRAVITY.

jealousy, yeah, that was a nice trip. expressing how much that can be an engine. you know. if this bitch can do it, dude, i can do it better. fuck, yeah.

let me go back in and grab the whole pack.

there were sweet spots, like the Weinerei at the Zions Church. Ah. And good friends, like almost everywhere on this planet, Mira, I miss you. It is a strictly sentimental melancholy, a nostalgic realization..'TV on the Radio' - 'All your dreams are over now'. exactly, right.

so there is my best friend in New York now, then hitting European Ground, Albania. fare the well.

oh I am heading towards a long long winding road of loneliness.

do you know the feeling when you wish, that your Ex would feel honored and ultimately kicked by reading that you just fucking regret too many things that you weren't able to appreciate at the right moment? that he would still love you somehow despite everything you did to burn the bridges and destroy the image he had of you in a ridiculous outrageous fit of self destruction? Ah. Damn. If you ever read this. I have to admit. You were such a wonderful person in my life. Ah. FUCK

pursuit of happiness. the trap

'we all should go to Hawaii for a month'

I looked at her and I smiled and i cried inside and I thought yes. we all want to be happy. and you are longing, still, for your family. you hated me. you were disppointed by me. and you still want to try it with me. But I know it's not for my sake. It is for the sake of your own happiness, for the sake of the pursuit of your dream, longing for family and happiness.

when she stopped at Lima, Peru, for an hour before the flight 'home' to LA she left her daughter and her daughter's publicist in the airport and went to the city, just for an hour.

and then it struck her hard, all of the sudden: what, if I just run away. If I just disappear. One Email saying 'I missed my life'. and then go, get a baby and do it all right, this time. Go travelling with my kid until it is 10. you know. live the life i wanted to live. No fights with an asshole husband. No kicking in the stummick. No drugs. No abuse. Just strap the baby on my back and see this beautiful world....

I looked at her. And I felt her pain.

how was the bottom line of the movie i watched the other night?

WE
ALL
FALL


and for the pursuit of my own happiness i believe i can't come to Hawaii. I would be happy, superficially, I would feel good. But I chose the other path. I want to work it out with my love...you know...youth....illusions....that we cling on to...and that's allright, as far as I am concerned. just because you know already that the mountain has always been there it doesn't mean you don't have to go and create your own path, right?

long story short

so basically, to make this previous long story in the previous post short:

the moral of jealousie is: that happens only, if something is out of balance.

it may be you, or him or just simply the inbetween.

life of brian, my phone, my nephew and jealousie.

ahh, finally, after having craved for it for months i got to rent 'Life Of Brian' by Monthy Python. Good old times. I just dig this kind of humor. It is so refreshing. I love the scene where the 'People's front of Judea' (or was it the Judea's people front, teehee) discuss what good the Romans brought to Judea. They wound up with education, water system, public order, and many more points and it just made me think of the resentment in Germany against America and elsewhere in the world and the many things that they still wouldn't want to miss out. It's a very ambiguous issue though but I won't get into that here.

so after the movie was done my nephew is like 'i change into my PJ's and then suddenly, surprise surprise MY PHONE is in his basket! hahaha. what the eff. I've been looking for it for two days, after it miraculously disappeared (I didn't look like for five seconds), was turned to silent all of the sudden and then switched off. STRANGE. TWO days. i mean, if you make a joke, play it for an hour maybe. but not freaking two days! It was graduation at school and yeah but I survived without a phone. Like in the good old days... :) but still....after I announced 'innocently' (good move though) tonight, that the finder would get a 30 min massage the phone reappeared all of the sudden....and HE found it. hahaha. i mean, hey! he even tried to negotiate the price for the finder by trying to blackmail me like 'i'm not going to look for it if the massage is only 30 min.' jesus christ. give me a break.
but it makes me wonder. he is 13, needs so much attention and affection. no wonder, his sister has ALWAYS been in the center point of attention ever since he was born. and now she is a moviestar and what not. and then there is his little brother, everybody cuddles and loves him...i think i'll give him a 45 min massage ;-)

so coming home was really nice after all. no stress. because the stress is now somewhere else: it s unbelievable how MUCH i changed from how I was in my previous relationship. I am putting up with so much annoying things, and now I even have to battle my jalousie. I always thought of myself as a strictly not jealous person but now I get to know the very annoying and perutrbing site of a relationship: being jealous.

there is this girl, she just finished the guitarprogramme in my school, she is grungy, different, strange and my love can TALK to her. yeah. what the fuck. and he is going to ask HER to sing his songs and make the music for his songs. he initially asked me at some point but admitted now that he thinks that I won't get it and can't do it. No offense, but you know, I like to write sorta depressed stuff and ...yeah, the happy little fairy fucking tale piranha doesn't understand that stuff. hell yeah. oh god, I am learning. I've been feeling depressed here more than ever since I was freaking 17 years old! Jesus. Makes me think. I had a good time with Giovanni, Kurt and Stefan, thinking secretely to myself, that those are people who speak 'MY' language, and how sad it is in a way, that my love and I don't seem to speak the same language after all but that it also doesn't matter.

and now I have to see how this feels like: IT SUCKS. seeing him talking with slightly melancholic depressed J______, seeing him deeply worried about her, that he feels bad for her, that she says she thinks it sucks that so many girls are so clingy (ooops, what the fuck was your point here? ah? did you actually fucking imply here something......roooooaaaar!!!!!) that she reminds him of his ex, that he doesn't tell me where he goes and I find him at 2 AM somewhere on Hollywood Blvd, because 'a friend' has a huge problem and it totally drags him down that he cannot help but this friend is basically screaming for help. and then i just conclude that it is her, I have my reasons, trust me.
aaahr. and then we went to visit a friend in hospital today, all together and seeing her being sweet and smiley and getting so fucking well along with him makes me just freak out. I don't say anything my heart just grows heavier and heavier as my mind plays wicked games on me like whispering in my ear, how GOOD THEY LOOK TOGETHER and how great of a couple they would be, he the dedicated engineer/producer, she the muse and freaking musician/artist. yes, their lives seem to coiincide way more than ours. and it makes me sick and fucking fucking sobbing right here over the typepad.

i know that it is irrational in a way, but in the same time...things aren't going too well these days. he had a lot of stress, so I sort of put up with EVERYTHING. but it is seriously NOT FUN to be his girlfriend right now. fuck. i feel like putting up with it ALL the time. and then he is like, don't freak out over J______, you jam all the time with Kurt or hang out with Giovanni and I am okay with it. Once I actually have a friend I really can talk with you act weird like that...
well thanks honey. so much for me being your best friend. if you TALKED TO ME, too, it wouldn't be an issue for me all. and if i wouldn't think that she is mysteriously beautiful and interesting in a way. oh fuck. i understand him now with Giovanni and Kurt and even Stefan. It just fucking sucks. He says he doesn't care anymore. I thought he was over it, but the way he says it now is like making me feel he gives a fuck. and that's a bad thing.

man, J______ is a fucking cokehead. fuck fuck. leave her alone. 'somethings are inevitable' that's what you both concluded in your last conversation, ha? well. i was going to freakin fight for it and try to make it work. I am so freakin sad it is not funny. you are not going to make it happen or work, I see it coming. I will put up with it for the longest time and then spacial distance will do the rest. good night.

as long as you can't share this other side with me. as long as you can't fucking tell me what's on your heart or mind, we can't be together. really. you didn't come in my world either but at least I tried to show you. and you make my beauty look ugly and ridiculous.

what has become of this love.......it's fighting this freaking vacuum.

and i am so scared for you. I hate this fucking drug world so bad, it's not funny. some people just shouldn't mess with that. and karma is karma, man! it is sth you can change. with your actions in the NOW. oh god.....i don't know. i like J______ but I don't like how she is creeping the shit out of me....how she is spinning this web over you. She is like a snake, smiling and being oh so fucking melancholic and cheered up by you. and you think you are the savior. hooray. finally something, that is due to you. happiness by you. wow. fuck thats so awesome. if that's what you need and want i won't stay in your freaking way. really. it makes me so sick.


maybe i am just tripping.

framed

your head in the window, your eyes obscured, outside, outside a piece of a transmission line - remniscant of signs of progress in older days, a piece of tree in the other corner, remniscant of nature that we tried to tame and behind that - clouds. lots and lots and lots of clouds. floating in the sky.

it's not like...

it's not like....i don't have any fucking anger inside of me..
it's not like....it doesn't make me totally fucking furious to see all this
frickin self indulgence and self pitty everywhere

shattered on the ground
spilled over our souls
and fucking our actions up

it's not like...i couldn't scream on stage
and destroy
and spit
and scream again, at the top of my lungs
and smoke a cigar and pretend
and throw my fists against this wall
and paint my hair pink
and tatoo my frustration and anger on my lips
and put your car on fire
and cut off all of your curls
dripping down your brain.

it's not at all like that.

first draft for a song, written in anguish. yeah. anguish. (I looked it up!}

VACUUM

All that you ever warned me about, be cautious, be cautious girl
was indeed out there
and all the time it was inside of you
so I learn that there is still so much you hide
'it seems there is so much more that you hide, sometimes i get the feeling that all i got to know was your pride'
so maybe all i got to know was your pride

so drenched with disappointment
all the talking you hate walking
filled up with dreamful wishes
like a bush full of birds
that you kill with the precision
of a hunter who knows his decisions
sometimes you wander astray
whispering in the ear of the wind
telling stories of their beauty
at night, at night
tomorrow you go back to fight

full of hatred you point out with disgust
and your eyes filled with a breathtaking beauty
your soul touching mine with the grace of an eagle
stretching and sucking the fresh milk
of my breasts that the goddess gave me
as a gift with a smile

but you never entered my beauty
although you find your way in the darkness
watching me merely from inside like a voyeur
ashamed of his addiction
holding on to glas to hide his afflictions

i offered my crutch but you declined
you love me but you are so busy
with protecting me
the wild child
from what you think is inevitable and irreversibly your world,
your karma
clinging to the past, never beholding my real strength and power and courage
did you ever see how strong I really am

'I can't follow you my love, you can't follow me' (L. Cohen)

so tell me,
tell me now,
how long can two people
last
when all they have is a
vacuum...


life lessons

what i learned:

- I am still lacking efficiency and walking my talk. This is with a complete manager secretary diploma in my pocket. How pathetic is that???
- family IS important and should be a last refuge. No use in trying to divorce it or not to fight for it.
- WHAT I WANT:
In my last relationship in Berlin I didn't know at all what I want in a relationship. I hadn't had a real relationship before that ever. J___ on the other hand DID have a kind of long relationship before me with this girl and knew what he wants and needs: TRUST, CARE, COMMITMENT, HONESTY. no big secrets, NO CHEATING.
Well, I think there HAS to be this inner space in which you can have your own little secrets that you don't share with your lover and partner, but I've pretty much come to terms with all of the above mentioned and subscribe it FULL HEARTEDLY. In many ways it makes me shake my head about myself and in the same time I am filled with joy for this wonderful boy/man, to know his place at such an early age. May the goddess bless him forever and may he make the women in his life blissfully happy, as he tried to do with me. I am so sorry J_____, that I wasn't ready to take on this wonderful gift and although there are several things that you did that killed it (talking about your ex as much as you did is definetely a NO) I take on full responsibility for all that and apologize for being such an immature little brat. I really tried to destroy the wonderful image you had of me. It wasn't good that you idealized me so much, but in the same time I see that I was wrong. But thats how life goes. When you aren't ready you aren't ready. That's it.

In a way it s funny how I explored my darker sides as a reaction to someone who had such an idealized image of me and how now, as I am in the middle of the Hollywood-desaster and in a relationship with someone who has seen the dark in its darkest colors, start seeing the sides in me that J_____ was referring to. My Gypsy knows and sees the same in me, but sometimes it seems to me as if he views this like a sort of antique thing in a museum that needs to be protected and just not from this world. It doesn't seem to me as if he can really embrace it, maybe I am a little hard on him here now, but yeah thats anyways just a snapshot of what flies through my head right now...So his emphasising the bad 'real' world out there makes me insist on those beautiful things. I simply refuse to give in to that. And it makes me sad. It's not like I am ignoring these sides of our world but I am not ready to give in to them. Is there a difference or am I just not seeing it?

whatever. it makes me furious.

so lifelesson number 4 is here: YES I DO WANT TO HAVE TRUST AND HONESTY AS THE BASIS. and relationships ARE about CARE and SUPPORT and growth.

hooray pain!

it doesn't happen too often, but today in the morning I was really happy about this tiger who tears my lower back and stomach into pieces: hooray my period! finally. what a waste of money, this pregnany test. tzntzntzn.

empty. strength courage and wisdom

there was no message in the bottle. the bottle was empty and so was I. there was no way I could find a way out, there was no way I could find a way in and make myself at home. An eternal state of transition, floatingness, in limbo, hanging in there waiting for some sort of illumination, a sunray early in the morning maybe. maybe the long awaited blissful happiness piercing through my heart while looking at a sunrise over the ocean while dolphins glide through waves.

can't this match with a dream i once had? where has it gone? drowned in the oversupply?

in the window the reflection of myself. there is a girl with long brown hair, a orange skirt she was wearing for way too long, no underwear but only i know, a too tight jeans jacket, sad eyes. an espresso. a book she writes in. a full moon. italian kitsch romantic music that relentlessly drives tears into my eyes.

once upon a time. she thinks. once upon a time this girl danced whenever she wanted, unrestrained, on the streets, where ever she wanted. once upon a time this girl dared to sing because she felt safe. once upon a time this girl longed out to open up her heart to a stranger and she was afraid the weight of her love with which she used to embrace the whole world, the holy and the whores, the bulgars and the famous, the liars and the storytellers, the beggars and the junkies, the ugly and the beautiful - would kill somebody, if she directed it only at one person. now she starts concentrating the love. cutting it back, appropriately for a bad world that she was never afraid of. loving overprotection slowly seems to suffocate that what is beautiful. so maybe now, she thinks. maybe now it is time for rain and my tears will water your garden. but she truly just doesn't know.

locked away, somewhere there, inside, she hears a blackbird singing. is it that memories are deluding. look forward. just look forward, into the now. and in the now...she feels lost.

and just in the middle of this overwhelming feeling of lostness, of being stranded somewhere where she really doesn't and never will belong to, there is a voice: India.Arie. click the title of this post for the lyrics. it is an incredibly beautiful song and it is for you Viola. And for me. And for the rest of us, too...

maybe I will write a message. and put it in a bottle....


ps. but still. I really don't feel like I can ever belong here. ever.

several reasons

there are several reasons why the period can be late:
stress
aprupt change in life
change in food
(i make these all up but i think they are right)
ahm, age
pregnancy

fuck.

little sister

it is REDICULUS how it makes me jump and feel so good and glad and happy and all tickely inside when I have a good conversation with my sister on the phone that makes me feel that - everything is allright. and she likes me and she is cool with me and we can cooperate and work together and have fun.

sometimes you have to go out of the forest to stop seeing only trees...I should have moved out from there a LOOONG time ago...

little sisters probably have it ingrained in their DNA to admire their big sistas and to want their appreciation and love and approval. aaah. it sucks being the little sister....

boys don't cry

grey in grey. dark grey.

I left the school in a hurry, grabbed my ID, my money, his jacket, ran to the parking lot, clack clack clack the cowboy boots on cold asphalt, it is a Californian night, unusually cold, his car is still there.
So I start walking down the Blvd, somewhere here was a VONS or was it Savondrugs? Today is the 13th, I should have gotten my period today. A bitch surely I was, pms-ing like hell, craving chocolate and icecream, crying at the drop of a dime...freaking out late at night in his car when I start freezing and he sleeps and doesn't turn on the heater and mumbles 'yes, i'll do it' and falls back asleep. when I reach out to him to caress him and it tickles him. freak out.
we both are at the verge of a nervous breakdown. Pregnancy would be just the cream on top of a very bad nightmare...

I shudder in the cold. The blvd is deserted. grey in grey. dark grey. some chicas blanance on their stilettos through the night, soem limousines are parked at the side of the street, the drivers leaning at the car, smoking or just observing - nightlife is nightlife, no matter where. hustlers, drugdealers, fucked up personas, the whole glamour and gloomy misery of city humans, so to say. homeless mingled into the scenery of the perverted fake world of hollywood, where the realities are so hard that they can be covered like stone. There is a party, lots of black people or do you say African Americans? thoughts just skipping through my mind, irrelevant, just there so I don't have to fear the emptiness behind them...

There is no reason really to go there and buy the pregnancy test now. But I still go. I have to go. IT is one of those moments, when intuition dictates me or is it my angels? taking some stupid idea as a pretext to send me on my way....

Like following a minutae plan I cross the street at a light, stroll further down the Blvd until my wandering hasty eyes finally find their destiny, their destination: grey in grey, dark grey: Him standing at the light, his dark 'fro a familiar shape to my eye, his grey Bob Dylanesque jacket clenched tightly around his broad shoulders and slender body, his glasses dark in his pale face.

'love!' ... and then hesitantly 'what - the - fuck?'
'what are you doing here piranha?'
'i have to buy something'
'come with me'
'no, come with me'
he starts crossing the street. grey. disappointed maybe, not willing to make an effort.

Amazon Warriors. You are the strong. Women, gather.

I follow him, wait, my love, wait, I am coming. I realized that the pregnancy test wasn't the reason for me coming out here. it was a pretext. a pretext to meet him there, caught in the act, - I asked him three times where he was in a text message, he didn't answer, there was sth strange and this just supports this feeling. he looks so miserable and sad and tortured there in the night. he is freezing his ass off, he is so tired and he is so out of place. misplaced. and I met him, seemingly coincidentally. pretext. i say. pretext
'what's your problem'
'i don't have a problem'
'no, i said, there is a problem'
he says that a friend of his is in big trouble. seeking for help. and he can't help, he tries to, but he can't, he tried to talk, but the words won't come out right. because they both know that they are hollow. he looks like an old man, bent under a burden that you can't name. when somebody slips and falls into this abyss the terror and horror, the pain becomes blank and nameless. it grabs your heart and suffocates it in one powerful movement. I've been there, seen it, I suffered and suffocated and drowned in the ocean of my tears. for him it is even worse. he has been there, done that. he knows what it is like to fall and to scream and scream and scream a mute cry for help. like in a soundproof room nobody hears you. people see you, point at you, but they don't hear you crying for help.
'i've always been able to help people' he says. 'and i can't do anything now. it is so terrible.' words can't tell .

the same expression, the same pain in his eyes like back then, when I broke down and cried and nothing could console me. it was starteling and confusing for him. nothing helped, until my wife came and played piano for me.
'and thats the reason why i was so upset and freaked out today and the last couple of days, it hadn't anything to do with you...'
I look at him. It hurts. Again. When will he understand?
'Look, I've told you, I don't blame you or anything it's just....if you want to be in a relationship with me you have to tell me these things. you don't have to tell me names in case it would be disrespectful to do so. but you have to tell me whats on your mind, on your heart. I want to be able to be there to support you. and please don't expect me to do that entirely blind. I need to know what to direct my heart to. that's the whole idea of a relationship, that you are stronger together. ..'

he sits now, in my practice room. his glasses up. his beautiful eyes his eyes...'no babies' he says. 'no babies'.
yes i say tenderly, don't worry. there won't be any babies. not now.
but what if
I told you, you don't have to worry, love. I swallow hard. Please, lord, it would break my heart to do this. It would break my heart and every time I think of it I feel like crying. I don't want to kill his baby.
'babies are smart' I say. 'they know that it is not the moment. don't worry my love'
'not now. i can't -all he ever wanted was a happy family.
Not now' he says and his eyes are so incredibly sad and shiny. tears.

boys don't cry

little wing on Hollywood Blvd

I dare not say 'fly on little wing, little wing' - not yet.
The night is dark out there, the palm trees silent in their own yellowgreen ways, a lonely star blinking, survivor of the citylights... Homesick feelings remote now only, somewhere in the back of the head. more so there are heart sick feelings wrapped in melancholic outlooks on love and life, ridiculously repeating the outlines of my beliefs: how everything happens for a reason, how there is no such thing as coincidence, - adding values to maybe meaningless inanities; attempts to stir the ship somewhat safely over the unknown but beloved sea...
What if the bird decides to build its nest this spring on a different tree? What if the little wing has to fly on? What if? What if the warrior aims with the wrong arm and then cuts her own breast? The one she didn't cut off?

Hollywood Blvd drenched with questions, maybe as unreal as the facades of the houses and the seemingly out-of-the-world weirdos I admire while sitting in the Sciencetology building entry with Guiseppe, my friend from the road, drinking green tea that we boiled over a mini-camp-stove, eating unhealthy pizza and smiling at the people who might see in us just two other homeless in the drowning overwhelmingness of the city. floating, never resting, with so much fickle past.

the breast of the Amazon Warrior

Kant says that anything done out of good will is the ultimate and only valuable in terms of morals. good will.
I don't cry out of good will. I smile, sit down at the table, put the fork, the knife, the salt and pepper and the napkin for me and my love on it. I salt my eggs and hashbrown, put butter on the bread, joke with Iglesias, the Italian, touch my love's hand lovingly...and hold them back. them tears from rolling...it s a deep urge to cry over my food, hair in my face, looking down at the earth: gravity.
Once I heard someone say that love is the only thing that can reverse gravity. that means, - oh pain - that you could fall out of love again, right? against the laws of gravity..?

As I was paying the food Iglesias stood next to me. He looked at me with this intriguing, investigating glance in his eyes, understanding, empathetic or do I only read this into him? He knows my love, they are good friends, teacher and student, and he knows us together.
I say, gulping the knot in my throat down, 'ah - (gulp) I want to.... go back to Europe....(gulp)'
I hear you, he says. I hear you. But then I laugh, jump over the floor in my childish ways, singing along with Bob Marley. Smiling, for free, it' s allright...allright....

He can't sleep in the camper anymore, something freaks him out about it. Thus I sleep with him in his car out of good will, and I let him make quick and rash love to me, on the passenger seat that I put down, trying to figure out when he cums (I hate condoms!) because he feels very bad when he comes quickly and doesn't always show thereof but I want this to be nice for him too, so hey, relax. all this, out of good will. I like it, that's not the point, but actually I am deep down very sad and wish he would treat me differently. I wish he would try to see my whole body, my being, that he would try to make me come, too, although it is not easy for me to let go, but hey, that's not a reason to stop trying right? I wish he wouldn't give up on things because it seems he can't do a perfect job. Better a little than nothing, dear.....
But out of good will I let all that happen and try not to be too disappointed, not too obvious, learn how to hide some things, like a real warrior has to learn to do.
I have time. He goes through a really bad patch right now, he will rise to his full power and full beauty and amazingness in due time. I know that and I believe in that. I've seen it....coming.....in his eyes, windows of his beautiful soul.....so loving, so good...

It's a tough school. The Amazon Warriors cut one breast in order to aim and shoot better. Let them teach me to be tough.

meeting point

do you know this feeling when in a split second seemingly entirely different threads come together in one knot?
you feel like on a crossroads, above you the wide sky. a cloud drifting by...
thread one:
all of the sudden he burst out: oh my god, this song is about YOU! it's my favorite song ever, since I am 7! it is about you, listen, do you listen? here, listen! listen to the lyrics......
:
Well she’s walking through the clouds
With a circus mind that’s running round
Butterflies and zebras
And moonbeams and fairy tales
That’s all she ever thinks about
Riding with the wind.

When I’m sad, she comes to me
With a thousand smiles, she gives to me free
It’s alright she says it’s alright
Take anything you want from me, anything
Anything.

Fly on little wing,
Yeah yeah, yeah, little wing

he looks at me, my hand in his. he doesn't see it, but I am holding my tears back. oh my love. but I smile, yes, too.
'maybe that's why I have loved you all these years' he says. we've met five months ago...

thread two:
in the very beginning he called me 'wild child' because I reminded him of this song:

All right, wild child full of grace
Savior of the human race, your cool face
Natural child, terrible child
Not your mother’s or your father’s child
Your our child, screamin’ wild
An ancient lunatic reigns in the trees of the night
Ha, ha, ha, ha
With hunger at her heels, freedom in her eyes
She dances on her knees, pirate prince at her side
Stirrin’ into a hollow idols eyes
Wild child full of grace, savior of the human race
Your cool face, your cool face, your cool face
Do you remember when we were in africa?

but one day he said that I am not really a wild child, I am more. but in reality I AM a wild child. that's why I got together with him in the first place; the fact that he saw and was okay with it..
and it is interesting that my wife said yesterday that she has the impression that I am not my mothers or my fathers child, but that I am parent to myself. that's why I put so much importance in whatever happens to me. treating myself like a child. hm...

thread three:
So I sit in the car with him, to pay his phonebill, he is broke, I have lots of financial aid money, so that makes me the bank, get over it already. manly pride *poof*
He says how funny it is that he hangs out with so many Italians these days. I say one day you'll live with me in Italy.
He says 'probably I am going to live in San Francisco. you know, some things are inevitable. I talked to G_____ about that yesterday. Some things are just inevitable.'
my heart grows heavy once more. the fatality of fate strikes me one more time.

thread four:
I remember how I thought recently, when he told me that he wants to become the greatest sound engineer and producer in the world, that breaking up with him would probably help him in attaining that goal. It would just drive him more into his work. It breaks my heart to think that. Does a supernatural goal demand such a human sacrifice? The sacrifice of a happy family? probably. think of Michelangelo, think of Napoleon, think of Nelson Mandela. Sacrifices all over the freaking place.

thread five:
then I think of what my dad said on the phone the other day: you have to decide what to do on the long run Piranha. not only the next three months. the energy to study goes by with a certain age. don't postpone it for too long. and you shouldn't leave the possibility to study in Europe entirely out of your plans. you know, there is a certain dynamics by being in America. (my wife too, mentioned that once, she said, it is like a drug...). There is nothing wrong with it, but at a certain point you have to decide whether or not you want to become an American or European. At some point it will be too late.

I think of my dream of a small little white house with a beautiful garden somewhere in the mediterrean Italy, living a simple family life there with my dear love.

and I cry and I smile in the same time,like the women in our family have done it as far as my memory reaches back: Tragic-Comedy is, when fate catches up with you.

Lullaby. (or: Tension)

the black spreads out like water circles when you drop little stones in a smooth lake.
'remember, quiet waters run deep and dirty' a quote from a book, maybe G.G. Marquez, echoing in her mind, hollow, dark, empty, memories shattered in the bottomless swiss cheese; her mind, - damp and raven black, rotting in the mist of self pittiance.
all those conclusions, illusions, delusions, allusions and other usions have lead to the finale of a great 'usions' parade: CONFUSION. the letters flaunting flawlessly with taunt and scorn, mocking the eternal attempts of manhood to decipher just about everything.
'ah' she sighs, 'to be or not to be? for me, today, on this sunny afternoon with Californian Palmtrees blinking and winking in the soft breeze that reminds me of soft ice, so different from the good old Italian ice cream but still good enough for a womans body drenched with bad mood hormones...so for me, today, the question would rather be: to be born or unborn. I'd rather be unborn. and what a cheesy procreation induced idea to follow the whole of humanity into the same trap by lending my womb to a person unborn. I will never do that. It is a crim against free spirit, binding it to matter, dragging it down...'

she lets the word dwindle down the washed out lines of repeated phrases, falls silent, hush, do you hear the lullaby.


as she looks out of the window, far up somewhere in the middle of the skyscraper that pets the clouds and tickles them occasionally, without any sexual intentions though, she sees black ravens drift by, somewhat lost, lurking with their little pale eyes that promise wisdom but always bring death. ultimately, the orgasm, the culmination of wisdom and many useless facts penetrated by sudden clairvoyance is the moment when with the last breath you escape the body, wiping off the soul on the way, mingeling with the winds to reach beyond the walls of our hollow rotten confused minds. And as you free yourself in those mystical ways that people only dared to speak in whispers of in the earlier days when there were still ways, as you free yourself you look back, probably, deciding to never let anybody know of the absolute gorgeousness you find there, because otherwise everybody would choose: unborn. and the heavenly grounds would be crowded....
she closes the window, sits down and draws.

A big black, quiet lake. with a dead raven, floating, belly and beak turned towards the skies.

A piercing shriek. A raven, looking directly into her eye.
A wind, a shudder.

Lullaby

the old man

'how many ways are there to lose yourself' she asked the old man in grey.
'how many ways are there to fuck myself up so I can bury myself like ashes in the ground.' and finally she said 'how can I see that I am a loser and not run away. - I am tired of fighting.'

so he turned around, all pale and ashgrey in his face, the dust coming out of every single pore in his face. 'losers suck' his voice trembling with fierce contempt. 'losers give up on themselves'.

he pointed with his walking stick made out of spinebones to the foggy horizon. 'losers don't see the difference between them and a warrior who just takes a rest in order to strike from an unexpected angle and in an unexpected moment to his advantage.'

and slowly he withered into the midwintersun, shining pale through the fog, illuminating both, his glassy bones and her pumping heart.

sweat dropping down right beside my feet. I lose my pasture, stumble and fall: Lost

lost

making love to him was supposed to make her feel found.
instead, she left with a vague feeling of nebulous uncertainty, sobbing insidly over his moving attempts to make her feel good, held, loved, cared for.
how can a person that lost make you possibly feel found.
there is no way

we have to




wait




and god helps those, who help themselves. how
convenient

thank you for yet another chance to stare into this abysses of loss and despair, confusion ; thank you for yet another chance to try to fill this abyss with love. love profusion

'I am still learning'

“The greater danger for most of us lies not in setting our aim too high and falling short; but in setting our aim too low, and achieving our mark.”
Michelangelo, a great artist, born on the same day like yours truly...an inspiration, always has been, always will be: My dad and I read his biography instead of the bible when he prepared me for communion back in the days.
We went on a week long trip. The first half we hiked through the marble mountains near Carracas, Italy, read Michelangelo's biography and walked in silence. My dad used to say: A mountain climber does one thing at a time. When he shits, he shits, when he walks he walks, when he eats he eats...' Then I had this encounter with the bumble bee. A truly mystifying experience, comparable to initiation rites experiences in many tribes that I read of. Finding your animal.
Bumble bees fly although, scientifically they can't. They are too heavy. Isn't that marvelous???
Then we went to Firenze, Florence, my beloved sweet Firenze, the Duomo, the wonderful cathedral of the holy lady, the beautiful camping site in which birds woke me up with their amazing songs in the morning, the many churches, little streets, sculptures and paintings we visited in honor of Michelangelo and his beautiful city, my father always there for me to talk to me about whatever was burning in my heart. I was deep into philosophical and spiritual questions back then, in many ways closer to who I feel I am than now. It makes me almost cry and sigh.
But God's ways are strange but wonderful, I am still a big fan of life and curious as to what will happen in my 24 th year, being 23, a wonderful number, isn't it...

this is to honor my parents, on my birthday, which is their birthday

hello down there

i am high. like fuck.
ah again, those word puns. punch punch!
i think of how much I am in the mood for CRAZY love now! how much I wish you would suddenly stand in the door, walk up to me, take my hips into your hands and slowly but firmly pull me over to you, so I can feel you pressed against my back, holding me tight and soft in the same time...because i feel so hot and horny right now it is freakin hilarious.
what would i do, if i had my own place like this? I would spend days and nights in front of the fireplace, covering every inch of this building with our love. not to say with the juices of our love!
ah, yeahs, no worries no more...
i feel like dancing, batteling energies, female male principal. mentioning the 'little prince' by exupery, driving down the lane like you are nuts and pretending you don't want more than just a little bit of fun.
wild dancing nights in berlin. crazy. the mood in the early morning hours is definetely heavy from yearning and physical willingness to give in to the ever moaning rhythms of the sea called LOVE.

ah, you, you are so far away. why did I have to come here,, go there?
I don't know. my head weighs heavy down. all this i have never shared - with my friends.

there is so much more i would like to say now. things that sound witty and pretty gay and ingenious like.
but all i can say i am jealous of my cousin who got to have wild sex with a guy who couldn't come because of some substances in his blood that i don't know of, in a HOT TUB. now, how fucking hot is that? well, and who can tell me I shouldn't be JEALOUS of that?
i think of wandering birds and definite decisions you can make in your life.....

is this a dream or the dream?

why aren't you here to help me here. maybe i wouldn't be here then, if you were here. will we ever meet again?

i am afraid to lose you baby.
I am afraid to go too far
I am afraid to stay too close
I am afraid to lose myself

my head is heavy
longing weighs it down
my vagina crouches like a tiger and scrouches in my ear: i am in love with his little john.
i just laugh and cunningly cunnylingylingy :) don't be such a pervert

but i am so much in love with you. i really want you. i want you to want me completely.

lovexercise

as much as sex gets better with sexercise i believe love gets better with lovexercise.

the elixier of life is love and we have to consult the oldest and most ancient wise women and men, witches and magicians, to teach us the recipe how to prepare this elixier.

the curse of cellphones moldes the freshness of this sweet fruit, first of all. nothing is more diametrical against the flowering of sweet and deep rootened love than constant superficial splattering of words, dressed in sweet notions and oversugared or over bitterened repulses of verbal miscommunication as provided by cell phone companies who make a fortune by our misconceptions and misleaded thought of how much structural solitude we can bear.

bury the cell phones! burn them!

*of cousre I will keep mine. I am in the middle of this freakin civilization. the desease is so common that nobody really regards it as a desease anymore.*

open the gates to creativity filled with loving energy, secondly. convert this energy into something beautiful as ancestors teach us, don't get lost in your longings. if you feel like you don't even miss that person that much try to sublimate your feelings in fine art as to extract that elixier of love. life is one big distraction and it is easy to get over someone when you just try hard enough. you will realize whether or not this is the right person to spend your days with only by spending days with this person not by performing intellectual thought acrobatics in his physical absence.

love is in the air.

india.arie in the rooms. singing beautifull a truth that we all know: love. beauty. breathing. space. promises. words.

i sit in the sun fludded patio and read Gabriel Garcia Marquez "a hundred years of solitude". I will paint. and refrain from calling him like I am the one who stayed at home. He sounds all sober and disinterested and non-enthusiastic, no words of how he misses me , the 'i love you' sounds so casual.

damn them cell phones! I will go on a mission on searching for this elixier now and I will not give up making this a worthwhile beautiful endeavor!!!!!!!!

love letters late at night

My Love,
the sun went down behind the ever dreamy ocean and my heart is only with you.


















I LOVE YOU

family bonds

with the family of my mother's side it is a whole different issue. we DO have a bond, beyond doubts. and all the spouses who ventured to marry a K______ girl or guy have something very important in common: some crazy K______ genes floating around in their kids and grandkids....some crazy stories, inadvertedly inclusive...
being with my cousins is like hanging out with OLD friends, although i've seen them maybe like only four times in my life. no explanations really needed. no showing off, although our family is a whole show off circus. family meetings? ahhhh! everybody starts showing off. I hate it.

but i felt strangely excited that my love got to know some of my cousins. made me feel like....yeah, thats MY family, an important part of my life! you can get to know more about me when you get to know them....I love them. hanging out with my gorgeous looking and talented and wonderful charming cousins is so relaxing because it is SO casual. no worries. just friends. but no hidden dangers, no hidden bad boy intentions. talking about sex, they could be my best girlfriend. thats how it feels. being a K_____ is a special thing. stars could pop up in any corner. rebels and outcasts are programmed into the genealogy. aunts try to be crazy and hip. uncles try to be buddies. family clinch daily bread in Alaska. we, the European cousins, had a special status: no clinch really, because not close enough. what remains: THE BOND.

fuck fuck: what sucks

Well, first of all, I didn't suck his one eyed monster. nope. although I could have, I mean we slept in his car, it could have been all very good.
so fuck fuck: what sucks today is:

-I MISSED MY REGISTRATIONS APPOINTMENT YESTERDAY. read: i can't choose the privat teacher i want, i can't choose the electives I want. And i stood in line to get this date like at 6 AM. in the freezing californian cold. THAT SUCKS.

-I was horny like fuck. yeah, pun intended. sorry for being so direct. that's the German in me. And I suppose he was up for something too, but we had to go and do HOMEWORK. what the freaking eff! we wound up sitting at the cafeteria listening to Franco preaching to us about his religion 'holy pussy'. it was funny like hell but a waste of time, if you ask me. I mean I HAVE A PUSSY. why talk about it, when......you know...ahm, what I mean?

-I told my sister I would do the homeschool thing for another month and see how it works. I am AFRAID. that it won't work out. but, hey, i have time to worry about that later. but it DOES suck.

-I have to look for a room and THAT SUCKS. yeah.

-I have to apply NOW for colleges. WHEN? aaaaaaaaah!

-the Oscars are coming up. THAT SUCKS.

secret victory. victoria secrets?

oh, thats just a wordplay. the victory was secret but overwhelming.
the battlefield: inside myself.
what, tell me, what is sweeter than a victory that your antagonist doesn't know about? you let them belief that they won but they just didn't realize that the battle was fought somewhere else and on a different level and that you just, ahm, yeah, you fucking WON! you fucked their intentions! ah, sweet sweet making love to fucking intentions fuck fuck! hahaha.
you hear that laughter? the laughter of a nasty, SCHADENFROH, beast. the laughter of a relieved and relaxed worrier. not warrior, worrier, you read right. the laughter of the winner who was widely believed not to be capable of winning at all. beyond reason. that is ME.

the victory?

I DID NOT LET HER MANIPULATE ME ANYMORE. simple as that. i went through the raven valley of depression, of self doubts and hatred, of feeling like a loser and loosing control over my inner balance and insight. of everything. and then i came back, in the rain, and confronted you, a little sugar and you talked, no news really, but the good news was: despite what you said, you didn't bring me down anymore. that is gone.

oh, and in case you read that: you think wrong. i don't hate you. i love you more than you will ever know but there are things you will never understand and there is matter of factly not the need for you to do so. you will go on and I will go on but both we have to stay sisters and maybe one day we will realize that blood does or doesn't create bonds beyond petty hick hacks and blame games.

ah, well, how do we say in German 'once the reputation is spoiled you can do whatever you want'.

I care. I do. But not like it is stated in your fixed universe. so fuck me or fuck you, I won't fight back like you maybe want me to.

the best weapon is the unexpected one. the best weapon is to fight yourself. and when you win this fight nobody can harm you
anymore

'i wanna love you and treat you right...'

'All I want is to make you happy'

Having said this. Tell me, tell me, how do you want to make me happy?

I tell you something (*giggles* - whenever I say 'I tell you something' he says: 'oh oh, I am getting in trouble!!!' lol)
it's like saying 'please cum with me'. It puts a pressure on me. And of course I am not cumming then.... I am fucking depressed right now. I can't help it. I try not to let it out when I am around people and then you ask me why I am only depressed around you. Because you are my boyfriend, my lover, because I can be more myself around you than around them. That's kinda sad, huh?
It's a vicious circle. It frustrates you, makes you afraid that I'd leave without you, makes you feel bad, like you hold me back from being and doing stuff that d make me happy, makes you lessen the efforts to please me, make me happy. 'Because it's never enough, you won't ever be happy'

I sit back, think of my mother, how she never was truly happy. Is it that? Is it something bullshitty like that? A repetition of a pattern that I've seen all life long? Every day?

What makes people happy? When they are treated right, like Bob Marley sings in his song 'Is this love'. When they are loved, when they are centered, themselves, when they are at the right place at the right time.
However, if you demand that I am happy with anything you give me, or for that matter not give me, you basically demand me to be happy with the way you want me to be happy. I am happy when I can look at little amazing flowers with amazing colours. Haven't you noticed by now? You never bring me little flowers just for the heck of it.
Then I sit back and think 'man, maybe I demand too much. Maybe my standards are insanly high. Maybe i just should be humble and happy'. Well, that would be a good buddhist thing to be, right? And guess what, actually I'd be like that, but there is something that tells me that this little princess inside of me deserves a better treatment. But man, I love you so much for some freaking reason. Your breath on my belly makes me go insane. Your eyes filled with your dear soul make me fall all over in love with you. Your sweet way of being when we are relaxed together, your ways of making me love, the unnameable, that makes me love you so much. The memories of K___ doing all the things that I miss now with you make me sick.
You never bring oil and say 'you need a massage piranha'. As a surprise. I understand why: you have too many things to worry about yourself. Your body hurts more than mine. I should be the strong one, because I can be. See, I understand that, but still....you say, you gonna be more of a gentleman but I open all the doors by myself. There is this undeniable need inside of me that wants to be fulfilled: treat me like the queen I am and don't put me down for feeling that way! A woman deserved to be treated in the best way possible. I know that. Nobody can tell me that I am demanding too much. Do we have to lower our standards just because? I mean, the world would be immediately a better place, if we put more effort into our daily lifes.

I understand you are tired and barely able to keep yourself together. But then don't demand that I should be happy just because. I am at the wrong place with the right person. I apologize for being so dependend still on outer circumstances. I strive to find the balance within me. And that's exactly the point! I can only find it within me and you can't really help with that. That's my part of the way. We'll meet in the middle. All you need is me to be happy. I need a lot more. I need the right surroundings to be happy. I need this and that and lalala, and one day, I promise, I'll strip all down to my inner balance that I can maintain by myself. But until then -

I DON'T FAKE!