okay lets make it this time really short and sweet. this here is really an issue that sorta makes me feel so wretched and itchy inside...dunno....
okay, lets face it, b, j, i've read somethings in your diaries. i feel like such a pathetic friend and stupid about it, but to defend myself i have to say that i was desperate back then and really felt like i don't know what is going on in your life and you were so far away and for a best friend it is very difficult to endure such a long period of thirsty deserts to cross without any idea whether or not there will ever be an oasis....
and i've read the diary of my sister, i admit it, i was really furious and ran away and happened to wear her jacket and it was a nice feeling of revenge to read that book in her pocket....:)
oh and once i read the diary of my brother, and now that happened to be funny, because I just looked at one page and it was exactly the page I saw my name mentioned at, and now, who wouldn't be curious as to find out what ones brother writes about oneself in a DIARY?
guess what, he mentioned my name because he admitted in HIS diary, that he just had read MY diary! hahaha.
I still laugh about that....
It's like running into your sister in the changing room at the school gym and being angry because she wears your sportsbra and then realizing that you do the same.....i mean, wearing HERS too@!!!! (that actually happened to a friend of mine)
so thats a really bad thing, i sorta see that....privacy is something that should be taken seriously. and i didn't in those cases and I am sorry. But, and thats probably the worst part, I didn't feel bad about it when I did it. Not really...
Sunday, October 09, 2005
Thursday, October 06, 2005
dark moon #2
i know most of the bloggers who read this are american. and i figured out quite quickly, that sexual matters are not handled here in the same way as back home. funny, considering how the whole sex selling thing seems to come from the very place i am at right now...hollywood....but i guess i am an ignorant ahm, motherfucker (would you use that in that situation? sorry bout the choice of words, i am not a native speaker....) about that, because i guess i am wrong, but at least thats what stuck in my head which already speaks for itself, because i am sure there are many many more who think the same way....so at least it s an illusion we all like to believe over there in ol'europe. the old world.... ;-)
so, having introduced my second confession like this i guess all of you know now that i am actually going to talk about sexual issues. and not in a way that would be probably appropriate to speak about in public here. on blogs, yeah, and all that shadow places you have to store your perversions to, but not on the street i guess...people were surprised about how openly i talk about sex and hell, it raises a lot of problems, because everybody thinks then, that i am an easy girl because of that. i am not, damn, i am easy to talk about it. but thats another topic...so back to this....
ahh, thats painful, it s already a little further beyond my surface i like to scratch on...(and you know what, i also found it very astounding how little scratching on my surface is needed to make me oh so freakin interesting and amazing over here. oh, gosh, i had a guy falling in love with me so desperately and what not, i changed his life, dammit, and i don't want to joke about it because thats of course a serious matter and i respect his feelings, but the conversation we had was great, GREAT! but it wasn't something, ahm, new or lets say, rare for me, cuz I can have this type of connection and conversation with ALL my friends over there! and it didn't change my life, sorry, but thats not a reason for me to think you are THE man for me, ya know? i was happy I met him, cuz thats what i was starving for...a meaningful, exciting conversation, but i was starving for it, because i was missing it from back home! not from my entire life.....)
okay, back to my original intention. the sex issue. it s short and sweet and nothing really wrong with it, but it s definitely something i don't talk about ever, and hide it well beneath my carpet....and remember, i wanted to take it slow....the dragging out of the dark things so they could die. and what i want to die about this thing is not the fact for itself, the doing, ya know, but the feelings i have about it...and the am, invisibility i added to it.
curious? haha. well, see, writing this i just figured that maybe sexual issues are for A REASON private and in the dark. cuz it s none of your business at all.
ah, anyways, poof. i just gonna write about it and be happy that i did it once and i actually wrote something about it in my very first posts but bla, see i am trying to change the subject..prolong the moment i am going to confess.to whom? why so?
don't know. i guess i find out...
and as i am someone who learns and knows things by trying them out (as opposed to a very good friend who actually sticks to his principals and convictions he figured out in his head...i can't do that. i need to KNOW with my hands...haha, here we go, thats a good introduction....
so okay, allright, i am only 22 years old, you might all laugh about me already, especially you guys...but for women it s different. it s more of a taboo to speak about masturbating.
so somewhen it started and bla, and there were times i needed it really badly. and i just thought what bad stuff i could write down here, embarrassing moments, stuff i hate and so on, and for sure the embarrassing bit is to think about where i masturbated already.
man, i think i really have issues with sex in general. arg, that sucks. man, man...oha. so, i admit i had cybersex. and its just so way beyond anything i ve ever thought i d do and like you know, i am just not that typa person. i am a real person, cs is just so fucked up stupid. but i did. poor guy, he probably even didn't get hard by the time i came already. it s just that phantasies and imagination can do so much to me. they get me really far, further than with many a time i had real sex.
allright.
okay, one thing that is probably sick in a way is that i even masturbated one day i a public restroom in a restaurant. matter of fact, i started touching myself while sitting at the table. there were hardly any people around and the waiter couldn't hopefully see what i was doing, cuz of the shape of the table and my bag and what not.
when i think of it now it s all so sick. but then, in the moment i was going for it it was exciting and i didn't have one second thought about it. i just wanted to do it. so there we go.
i also did it in a train while the people in my cabin were sleeping. oh my god. *blush* i seriously hope nobody who knows me really, except for you mira, reads this. fuck. thats sorta stupid. aaah,, i literally feel pain of embarrassment in my body right now. it aches somewhere above my chest and somewhere in my throat. o lord. stupid.
okay, but who is going to tell me that this is perfectly allright? ya all do it? am i sick? stupid? okay? i don't know. maybe i even do't wanna know and nobody wanna tell me, cuz again, it s a private thing and nobody else;s business.
all in all i had a lot of hot sex with myself. the phantasies are just running wild then. and in the end of the day, when you are longing for love you feel stupid. and sad. because, one day i figured that the good feeling that comes after it is the same feeling i get out of doing a lot of sports. the very same thing. and making love adds something deeper to it, and you can't anymore compare it to sports. thats what i think after all
also, i don't get tired but actually a lot fitter afterwards. there is the climax and ten or twelve seconds later i can jump up and get going. and totally not understand why i needed to do it, and why i wanted it, and hell, when i think of my phantasies then, they seem fucking weird and senseless to me. thats it. the loving, enthusiastic, life embracing piranha has strange issues. nobody to love really, i mean for a relationship, no deep romantic loving, but stupidly getting friendly with her hands...
*sigh*
and, remember, thats only one step deeper than the surface. i am freaking paranoid about thinking about the rest.(no, not only sexual matters, dude, don't let YOUR phantasy go wild now!!! its ugly, i say, UGLY!)
piranha
so, having introduced my second confession like this i guess all of you know now that i am actually going to talk about sexual issues. and not in a way that would be probably appropriate to speak about in public here. on blogs, yeah, and all that shadow places you have to store your perversions to, but not on the street i guess...people were surprised about how openly i talk about sex and hell, it raises a lot of problems, because everybody thinks then, that i am an easy girl because of that. i am not, damn, i am easy to talk about it. but thats another topic...so back to this....
ahh, thats painful, it s already a little further beyond my surface i like to scratch on...(and you know what, i also found it very astounding how little scratching on my surface is needed to make me oh so freakin interesting and amazing over here. oh, gosh, i had a guy falling in love with me so desperately and what not, i changed his life, dammit, and i don't want to joke about it because thats of course a serious matter and i respect his feelings, but the conversation we had was great, GREAT! but it wasn't something, ahm, new or lets say, rare for me, cuz I can have this type of connection and conversation with ALL my friends over there! and it didn't change my life, sorry, but thats not a reason for me to think you are THE man for me, ya know? i was happy I met him, cuz thats what i was starving for...a meaningful, exciting conversation, but i was starving for it, because i was missing it from back home! not from my entire life.....)
okay, back to my original intention. the sex issue. it s short and sweet and nothing really wrong with it, but it s definitely something i don't talk about ever, and hide it well beneath my carpet....and remember, i wanted to take it slow....the dragging out of the dark things so they could die. and what i want to die about this thing is not the fact for itself, the doing, ya know, but the feelings i have about it...and the am, invisibility i added to it.
curious? haha. well, see, writing this i just figured that maybe sexual issues are for A REASON private and in the dark. cuz it s none of your business at all.
ah, anyways, poof. i just gonna write about it and be happy that i did it once and i actually wrote something about it in my very first posts but bla, see i am trying to change the subject..prolong the moment i am going to confess.to whom? why so?
don't know. i guess i find out...
and as i am someone who learns and knows things by trying them out (as opposed to a very good friend who actually sticks to his principals and convictions he figured out in his head...i can't do that. i need to KNOW with my hands...haha, here we go, thats a good introduction....
so okay, allright, i am only 22 years old, you might all laugh about me already, especially you guys...but for women it s different. it s more of a taboo to speak about masturbating.
so somewhen it started and bla, and there were times i needed it really badly. and i just thought what bad stuff i could write down here, embarrassing moments, stuff i hate and so on, and for sure the embarrassing bit is to think about where i masturbated already.
man, i think i really have issues with sex in general. arg, that sucks. man, man...oha. so, i admit i had cybersex. and its just so way beyond anything i ve ever thought i d do and like you know, i am just not that typa person. i am a real person, cs is just so fucked up stupid. but i did. poor guy, he probably even didn't get hard by the time i came already. it s just that phantasies and imagination can do so much to me. they get me really far, further than with many a time i had real sex.
allright.
okay, one thing that is probably sick in a way is that i even masturbated one day i a public restroom in a restaurant. matter of fact, i started touching myself while sitting at the table. there were hardly any people around and the waiter couldn't hopefully see what i was doing, cuz of the shape of the table and my bag and what not.
when i think of it now it s all so sick. but then, in the moment i was going for it it was exciting and i didn't have one second thought about it. i just wanted to do it. so there we go.
i also did it in a train while the people in my cabin were sleeping. oh my god. *blush* i seriously hope nobody who knows me really, except for you mira, reads this. fuck. thats sorta stupid. aaah,, i literally feel pain of embarrassment in my body right now. it aches somewhere above my chest and somewhere in my throat. o lord. stupid.
okay, but who is going to tell me that this is perfectly allright? ya all do it? am i sick? stupid? okay? i don't know. maybe i even do't wanna know and nobody wanna tell me, cuz again, it s a private thing and nobody else;s business.
all in all i had a lot of hot sex with myself. the phantasies are just running wild then. and in the end of the day, when you are longing for love you feel stupid. and sad. because, one day i figured that the good feeling that comes after it is the same feeling i get out of doing a lot of sports. the very same thing. and making love adds something deeper to it, and you can't anymore compare it to sports. thats what i think after all
also, i don't get tired but actually a lot fitter afterwards. there is the climax and ten or twelve seconds later i can jump up and get going. and totally not understand why i needed to do it, and why i wanted it, and hell, when i think of my phantasies then, they seem fucking weird and senseless to me. thats it. the loving, enthusiastic, life embracing piranha has strange issues. nobody to love really, i mean for a relationship, no deep romantic loving, but stupidly getting friendly with her hands...
*sigh*
and, remember, thats only one step deeper than the surface. i am freaking paranoid about thinking about the rest.(no, not only sexual matters, dude, don't let YOUR phantasy go wild now!!! its ugly, i say, UGLY!)
piranha
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
here comes the moon, lalalala, it s allright, we all got issues (humm this in your head to the melody of 'here comes the sun by the beatles, will you!
so okay, i made my mind up. I will try to let the dark sides die a little, as amadeo pointed out that might happen if i dragged them into the light. here we go. (but slow!)
where should i start? damn. thats difficult.
what was i talking about? my fears?
fears....
oh, no, lets start with the embarrassing things I recognized about me.
For example, when I was in Germany and would have those 'getting to know you' conversations with someone, especially with someone from America, I would always (although I always told myself I wouldn't) mention at some point that my cousin is a famous popsinger in the States. Always. And yeah, it does not coincide with my actual convictions of how i wanna be and what is important to me. I would always mention it.
That'd be allright in itself, but the embarrassing bit is, that I would always also say "you know, in America I wouldn't be able to say that because I would immediately cease to be Piranha but merely and only 'her cousin'. YOu know....I don't really care about that, I mean, it's not my fault or my doing that she became famous and she is also like 8 years or so older....but here in Europe thats okay to mention..'
I had people from America call their friends in the states saying "you won't believe it but I am actually hanging out right now with * *'s cousin!"
And yes, it made me more interesting and special to many of them and it annoys the fuck out of me to think that I was so stupid. That I used it for me. Because thats in the end what I did, maybe not all of it, but certainly part of the motivation to mention it.
Argh.
You know, it s this disgusting mix of behaving cool and laid back ('i don't care, really!" uh) and I am not really like that. It's all about attracting people. But then again, its interesting, for them too, so it's a two sided issue, as always probably. But it annoys me nevertheless.
after having confessed that I can go to my next class....'owning and operating a music business' - should be fun. I like figures and business plans *chuckle*
don't think that this is it...it s really only one embarrassing thing I found about myself and it s probably pretty much close to the surface still.....
love to ya all out there.
the blushed and gnawing piranha
where should i start? damn. thats difficult.
what was i talking about? my fears?
fears....
oh, no, lets start with the embarrassing things I recognized about me.
For example, when I was in Germany and would have those 'getting to know you' conversations with someone, especially with someone from America, I would always (although I always told myself I wouldn't) mention at some point that my cousin is a famous popsinger in the States. Always. And yeah, it does not coincide with my actual convictions of how i wanna be and what is important to me. I would always mention it.
That'd be allright in itself, but the embarrassing bit is, that I would always also say "you know, in America I wouldn't be able to say that because I would immediately cease to be Piranha but merely and only 'her cousin'. YOu know....I don't really care about that, I mean, it's not my fault or my doing that she became famous and she is also like 8 years or so older....but here in Europe thats okay to mention..'
I had people from America call their friends in the states saying "you won't believe it but I am actually hanging out right now with * *'s cousin!"
And yes, it made me more interesting and special to many of them and it annoys the fuck out of me to think that I was so stupid. That I used it for me. Because thats in the end what I did, maybe not all of it, but certainly part of the motivation to mention it.
Argh.
You know, it s this disgusting mix of behaving cool and laid back ('i don't care, really!" uh) and I am not really like that. It's all about attracting people. But then again, its interesting, for them too, so it's a two sided issue, as always probably. But it annoys me nevertheless.
after having confessed that I can go to my next class....'owning and operating a music business' - should be fun. I like figures and business plans *chuckle*
don't think that this is it...it s really only one embarrassing thing I found about myself and it s probably pretty much close to the surface still.....
love to ya all out there.
the blushed and gnawing piranha
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
where is the dark side of my moon
where is the dark side of my moon?
long ago I was convinced of being honest with myself.
about everything.
my dark sides.
and now, i sit here, looking around, realizing that the shatters of my dreams are only rusty masks which desperately try to get hold of what I have lost.
the dark side of my moon, buried, deep deep somewhere in the future to b dealt with.
Courage, wrote a friend just today, is not the absence of fear but the knowledge and acknowledging of your fears.
your innermost fears.
i know we all deal with issues. but i am worried about my being fake here after all. of course i try to be honest and straight and all that but then again, it is not the question how honest i am but what i address. i am scratching only on the surface of things except for when it comes down to heartfelt loveletters that all commenting bloggers here agreed on being splendid and moving. I am hiding away from my real issues, my real dark sides, and I just realized that I even cannot address them properly in my private journal.
At first I thought it has to do that this is sort of not as private as a journal but no, even not there i can deal with it.
But maybe, maybe, the dark sides are not supposed to be ever dragged into the light.......
long ago I was convinced of being honest with myself.
about everything.
my dark sides.
and now, i sit here, looking around, realizing that the shatters of my dreams are only rusty masks which desperately try to get hold of what I have lost.
the dark side of my moon, buried, deep deep somewhere in the future to b dealt with.
Courage, wrote a friend just today, is not the absence of fear but the knowledge and acknowledging of your fears.
your innermost fears.
i know we all deal with issues. but i am worried about my being fake here after all. of course i try to be honest and straight and all that but then again, it is not the question how honest i am but what i address. i am scratching only on the surface of things except for when it comes down to heartfelt loveletters that all commenting bloggers here agreed on being splendid and moving. I am hiding away from my real issues, my real dark sides, and I just realized that I even cannot address them properly in my private journal.
At first I thought it has to do that this is sort of not as private as a journal but no, even not there i can deal with it.
But maybe, maybe, the dark sides are not supposed to be ever dragged into the light.......
Sunday, October 02, 2005
laundromat
it s SO BORING
she sits on the table, stars in the shattered fragments of her mind and tries to recollect all that happened.
the red window. a gay club. music, that reminder her of her beloved, oh so beloved Berlin, of friends far far away and nights drunken full of crazyness, raving lunatics, a world of its own.
her sister finally unwinding, her playing gay with her sisters best friend and drinking too much mojito.
clubs CLOSE AT ONE OR TWO O CLOCK in los angeles.
she shakes her head in disbelief. the laundry machine weaves rythms into the air. it smells like clean laundry around her and people minding their own business...
AT ONE O CLOCK. now what is that? she tries to think back. once or twice it happened in Berlin that she went out BEFORE ONE O CLOCK. and party ends at noon. or the next day, or evening or at sunrise, but boy, not in the middle of the night, just when people get started!
the beautiful lesbian ehtiopian and kenian women. ah. a cigar. John. sexy motherfucker...
the latino with whom she danced.....a little cheeky smile appears on her face, lits her mind up, fragments all over the place....
sigh.
he said: ah, sexy mami, you and I know how to dance, do we!
she twirls around in her head, 'yes, yes, i do know, and I love it, I was so happy as i haven't been in a very long time! I was thrilled! I guess people must have assumed I am on drugs but i wasn't! I am a natural xtasy wonder! ah, dancing,,....
- the partylife is a side of me that I couldn't possibly think of as a kid. I was totally emerged into nature and the world as a place of trouble, destruction, fear, sadness and hidden treasures.
but simply having fun like that, nah. it took me a little while....'
she pulls out her laundry, tired, her body aches.
the massage. being puzzled about how much she actually could enjoy GIVING a massage...his sighs, moans...her smile, tender energy, the soft feeling of balancing between sexual and therapeutical energy. aaah. his hands...
the machine stops suddenly. the ondragging minutes all evaporated in thin thoughts.....fragments only but disturbing in a sweet way...
his hands...
she folds the clothes together, stuffs them in her bagpack, and angrily carries it to the car.
a convertible mercedes, a wonderful smooth running car. ah.
she throws the bag in the back. ha.
his hands.
and why in the fuck, can't i take it no more?
sense of adventure?
lack of love?
come on.
in the rearview she sees the red flashing sign 'laundromat' disappear in a warm breeze of californian night.
come on.
the automatic....car.....in europe...we have mostly nonautomatic cars...his hands...ah he so beautiful...but still.....i think automatic cars are after all kinda practical.....max' mercedes in berlin......art......installations....his hands...why in the freaking fuck can't i take it no more?
fragments only.
embarassment.
relief of having just escaped a way bigger embarassment.
gosh, i ll have to see this guy many times. he is a friend. don't mess with friends...
his hands...
lips...
and she turns around, driving back to the laundromat where she forgot something important...
her mind, lost in a puzzle.
why, oh why, can't i just let go and take advantage of these beautiful opportunities?
is it, that my love to david sort of conditioned me now in a way that i can't accept making love no more, when there is no love?
ah, paradoxical. fragmental. fear. i am scared. i don't want to be this way. i want to enjoy, simply enjoy.
i don't want to be spun around again and again, like in one of those laundry machines.
no ways.
i don't want to
so what, what shall i do?
she sits on the table, stars in the shattered fragments of her mind and tries to recollect all that happened.
the red window. a gay club. music, that reminder her of her beloved, oh so beloved Berlin, of friends far far away and nights drunken full of crazyness, raving lunatics, a world of its own.
her sister finally unwinding, her playing gay with her sisters best friend and drinking too much mojito.
clubs CLOSE AT ONE OR TWO O CLOCK in los angeles.
she shakes her head in disbelief. the laundry machine weaves rythms into the air. it smells like clean laundry around her and people minding their own business...
AT ONE O CLOCK. now what is that? she tries to think back. once or twice it happened in Berlin that she went out BEFORE ONE O CLOCK. and party ends at noon. or the next day, or evening or at sunrise, but boy, not in the middle of the night, just when people get started!
the beautiful lesbian ehtiopian and kenian women. ah. a cigar. John. sexy motherfucker...
the latino with whom she danced.....a little cheeky smile appears on her face, lits her mind up, fragments all over the place....
sigh.
he said: ah, sexy mami, you and I know how to dance, do we!
she twirls around in her head, 'yes, yes, i do know, and I love it, I was so happy as i haven't been in a very long time! I was thrilled! I guess people must have assumed I am on drugs but i wasn't! I am a natural xtasy wonder! ah, dancing,,....
- the partylife is a side of me that I couldn't possibly think of as a kid. I was totally emerged into nature and the world as a place of trouble, destruction, fear, sadness and hidden treasures.
but simply having fun like that, nah. it took me a little while....'
she pulls out her laundry, tired, her body aches.
the massage. being puzzled about how much she actually could enjoy GIVING a massage...his sighs, moans...her smile, tender energy, the soft feeling of balancing between sexual and therapeutical energy. aaah. his hands...
the machine stops suddenly. the ondragging minutes all evaporated in thin thoughts.....fragments only but disturbing in a sweet way...
his hands...
she folds the clothes together, stuffs them in her bagpack, and angrily carries it to the car.
a convertible mercedes, a wonderful smooth running car. ah.
she throws the bag in the back. ha.
his hands.
and why in the fuck, can't i take it no more?
sense of adventure?
lack of love?
come on.
in the rearview she sees the red flashing sign 'laundromat' disappear in a warm breeze of californian night.
come on.
the automatic....car.....in europe...we have mostly nonautomatic cars...his hands...ah he so beautiful...but still.....i think automatic cars are after all kinda practical.....max' mercedes in berlin......art......installations....his hands...why in the freaking fuck can't i take it no more?
fragments only.
embarassment.
relief of having just escaped a way bigger embarassment.
gosh, i ll have to see this guy many times. he is a friend. don't mess with friends...
his hands...
lips...
and she turns around, driving back to the laundromat where she forgot something important...
her mind, lost in a puzzle.
why, oh why, can't i just let go and take advantage of these beautiful opportunities?
is it, that my love to david sort of conditioned me now in a way that i can't accept making love no more, when there is no love?
ah, paradoxical. fragmental. fear. i am scared. i don't want to be this way. i want to enjoy, simply enjoy.
i don't want to be spun around again and again, like in one of those laundry machines.
no ways.
i don't want to
so what, what shall i do?
laundromat
it s SO BORING
she sits on the table, stars in the shattered fragments of her mind and tries to recollect all that happened.
the red window. a gay club. music, that reminder her of her beloved, oh so beloved Berlin, of friends far far away and nights drunken full of crazyness, raving lunatics, a world of its own.
her sister finally unwinding, her playing gay with her sisters best friend and drinking too much mojito.
clubs CLOSE AT ONE OR TWO O CLOCK in los angeles.
she shakes her head in disbelief. the laundry machine weaves rythms into the air. it smells like clean laundry around her and people minding their own business...
AT ONE O CLOCK. now what is that? she tries to think back. once or twice it happened in Berlin that she went out BEFORE ONE O CLOCK. and party ends at noon. or the next day, or evening or at sunrise, but boy, not in the middle of the night, just when people get started!
the beautiful lesbian ehtiopian and kenian women. ah. a cigar. John. sexy motherfucker...
the latino with whom she danced.....a little cheeky smile appears on her face, lits her mind up, fragments all over the place....
sigh.
he said: ah, sexy mami, you and I know how to dance, do we!
she twirls around in her head, 'yes, yes, i do know, and I love it, I was so happy as i haven't been in a very long time! I was thrilled! I guess people must have assumed I am on drugs but i wasn't! I am a natural xtasy wonder! ah, dancing,,....
- the partylife is a side of me that I couldn't possibly think of as a kid. I was totally emerged into nature and the world as a place of trouble, destruction, fear, sadness and hidden treasures.
but simply having fun like that, nah. it took me a little while....'
she pulls out her laundry, tired, her body aches.
the massage. being puzzled about how much she actually could enjoy GIVING a massage...his sighs, moans...her smile, tender energy, the soft feeling of balancing between sexual and therapeutical energy. aaah. his hands...
the machine stops suddenly. the ondragging minutes all evaporated in thin thoughts.....fragments only but disturbing in a sweet way...
his hands...
she folds the clothes together, stuffs them in her bagpack, and angrily carries it to the car.
a convertible mercedes, a wonderful smooth running car. ah.
she throws the bag in the back. ha.
his hands.
and why in the fuck, can't i take it no more?
sense of adventure?
lack of love?
come on.
in the rearview she sees the red flashing sign 'laundromat' disappear in a warm breeze of californian night.
come on.
the automatic....car.....in europe...we have mostly nonautomatic cars...his hands...ah he so beautiful...but still.....i think automatic cars are after all kinda practical.....max' mercedes in berlin......art......installations....his hands...why in the freaking fuck can't i take it no more?
fragments only.
embarassment.
relief of having just escaped a way bigger embarassment.
gosh, i ll have to see this guy many times. he is a friend. don't mess with friends...
his hands...
lips...
and she turns around, driving back to the laundromat where she forgot something important...
her mind, lost in a puzzle.
why, oh why, can't i just let go and take advantage of these beautiful opportunities?
is it, that my love to david sort of conditioned me now in a way that i can't accept making love no more, when there is no love?
ah, paradoxical. fragmental. fear. i am scared. i don't want to be this way. i want to enjoy, simply enjoy.
i don't want to be spun around again and again, like in one of those laundry machines.
no ways.
i don't want to
so what, what shall i do?
she sits on the table, stars in the shattered fragments of her mind and tries to recollect all that happened.
the red window. a gay club. music, that reminder her of her beloved, oh so beloved Berlin, of friends far far away and nights drunken full of crazyness, raving lunatics, a world of its own.
her sister finally unwinding, her playing gay with her sisters best friend and drinking too much mojito.
clubs CLOSE AT ONE OR TWO O CLOCK in los angeles.
she shakes her head in disbelief. the laundry machine weaves rythms into the air. it smells like clean laundry around her and people minding their own business...
AT ONE O CLOCK. now what is that? she tries to think back. once or twice it happened in Berlin that she went out BEFORE ONE O CLOCK. and party ends at noon. or the next day, or evening or at sunrise, but boy, not in the middle of the night, just when people get started!
the beautiful lesbian ehtiopian and kenian women. ah. a cigar. John. sexy motherfucker...
the latino with whom she danced.....a little cheeky smile appears on her face, lits her mind up, fragments all over the place....
sigh.
he said: ah, sexy mami, you and I know how to dance, do we!
she twirls around in her head, 'yes, yes, i do know, and I love it, I was so happy as i haven't been in a very long time! I was thrilled! I guess people must have assumed I am on drugs but i wasn't! I am a natural xtasy wonder! ah, dancing,,....
- the partylife is a side of me that I couldn't possibly think of as a kid. I was totally emerged into nature and the world as a place of trouble, destruction, fear, sadness and hidden treasures.
but simply having fun like that, nah. it took me a little while....'
she pulls out her laundry, tired, her body aches.
the massage. being puzzled about how much she actually could enjoy GIVING a massage...his sighs, moans...her smile, tender energy, the soft feeling of balancing between sexual and therapeutical energy. aaah. his hands...
the machine stops suddenly. the ondragging minutes all evaporated in thin thoughts.....fragments only but disturbing in a sweet way...
his hands...
she folds the clothes together, stuffs them in her bagpack, and angrily carries it to the car.
a convertible mercedes, a wonderful smooth running car. ah.
she throws the bag in the back. ha.
his hands.
and why in the fuck, can't i take it no more?
sense of adventure?
lack of love?
come on.
in the rearview she sees the red flashing sign 'laundromat' disappear in a warm breeze of californian night.
come on.
the automatic....car.....in europe...we have mostly nonautomatic cars...his hands...ah he so beautiful...but still.....i think automatic cars are after all kinda practical.....max' mercedes in berlin......art......installations....his hands...why in the freaking fuck can't i take it no more?
fragments only.
embarassment.
relief of having just escaped a way bigger embarassment.
gosh, i ll have to see this guy many times. he is a friend. don't mess with friends...
his hands...
lips...
and she turns around, driving back to the laundromat where she forgot something important...
her mind, lost in a puzzle.
why, oh why, can't i just let go and take advantage of these beautiful opportunities?
is it, that my love to david sort of conditioned me now in a way that i can't accept making love no more, when there is no love?
ah, paradoxical. fragmental. fear. i am scared. i don't want to be this way. i want to enjoy, simply enjoy.
i don't want to be spun around again and again, like in one of those laundry machines.
no ways.
i don't want to
so what, what shall i do?
Friday, September 30, 2005
'to dance on the counter'
before i start this post i have to say something terrible: I am at Starbucks. Yeah, because of the internet access. and it s kinda fun to be here after having worked my ass off at the very much the same looking Starbucks coffeeshop in Berlin.
But thats not the most terrible thing to admit right now. My nephew is sitting right next to me, painting me. Now thats lovely in itself, I support artistic development of our kiddos, but guess what he just did: He sat there in the couch, singing happily: "I take you to the coffee shop...."
Yeah, Mr. 50 Cent, you got them all.
And now, fuck off. Please.
I know that I've stated several times that I like that song, because of Mr. God is a DJ. Thats all, it has personal value so to say and I am prejudiced, I don't have a near to objective point of view here....but I DO THINK that this shit is for adults only. I hate the thought of young teenagers thinking they have to lick the lollipop just because it seems to be cool.
Of course, they should do that if they find they like it, but not at the vulnerable age of 12 to 15, if you ask me.
but thats just my humble opinion...anyways.
so now back to my original post:
there is a german proverb that says: to dance on the counter' and it pretty much means literally dancing on the counter, which is of course a sign of a wild party of the sort we like it....it means everybody went sorta nuts and everybody let their inhibitions go and dance wildly and freely, um, yeah, on the counter.(see link)
So, during my last nights in Berlin, my beloved, beloved Berlin, I had to go out with my beloved Mira a last time, as we've spent pretty much the whole last year partying together (it sounds more than it was..I mean, we were hard working students, really, lol, and, um, yes, we didn't go out THAT often....teeheee...)
Now, every single time she and I went out together, something crazy happened.(clap!clap!) My god, actually, when I started blogging I kept thinking 'oh jeeeesus, I have to write this down!' whenever we happened to indulge into Berlin's beautiful, cheap and wild nightlife....
Well, towards the end of our nights in Berlin we, um, for some reason, I swear I NEVER THOUGHT THAT WOULD HAPPEN, but we happened to kiss each other, more than once or twice....sweet sweet kisses, I say, and no regrets... ;-)
So, our last night together in Berlin, she and I pretty tired and freezing (yes, this summer bloody sucked this year in Berlin!) at Bar 25. We felt like, yeah, this is our last night out and we chill like that, thats a betrayal....Sitting in the way too comfortable couches just in front of the Spree (our river), electronic sound surrounded us....I fell asleep. When I woke up again I saw her talking to this guy....Yeah, now THATS my Mira! Always up for a chitchat with some sexy motherfucker!
Tired I join the conversation and within a few moments each of us held a hard drink in the hand and the guy was like "um, do you want to go dancing?"
Mira and I looked at each other and laughed. Yeah, we have to want. We know we don't want, but we know as well we have to want. It s our last night. So we better do!
On our way back in he suddenly stops and goes like:"oh i know a way better place in Kreuzberg. Wanna come? I pay the taxi..."
Mira and I look at each other.
A broad smile appears on her face. Oh you crazy motherfucker! I know you'll say yes!
The taxi stops. We look out and - the bar we stopped in front of is - dark. Nobody there.
The guy, lets call him, um, Arkan, stands already in the door "come on!"
Hesitatingly we look at him.
"it s my bar! come on, it s warm and we can have whatever drinks we like!"
Now, thats cool, and I love that kind of crazy things happening in my life, but I am also not totally naive and stupid. I know that and when I have to be cautious. I know that I can trust my intuition and that I can handle situations of a certain kind, so I whisper into Mira's ear "yeah, lets go!"
A piano.
I start playing. Music fills the air, I regret not having practiced enough but I love it so much.
He mixes some cocktails, the light is smooth like honey and Mira looks just beautiful down there.
I love her like that. It s our time now. Our time....
We sit down, smoke fine cigarettes and drink....suddenly the music switches over to some hot funk. OH MY GOD!
The sound swirls through the air, hits me in the middle of a drag of the cigarette, untightens my reason and baths me in a sudden rush of love to my heart.....haha, reading this ....hahaha. that sounds cheesy. yeah.
*chuckles*
well okay. we dance and dance, I am loose and so is the guy.
One glance in his eyes and I know what he is about to say!
"LETS DANCE ON THE COUNTER"
yeah!
wild joy of love to life fills me....I get on the counter and start dancing like its my last dance....Mira is still hesitating but I know sooner or later she'll join. She drinks life like an old Irish bastard Guiness.
Just the both of us up there. boy, this guy is lucky. As a guy, I would have loved to see that. She is so tender. She is so smooth and her moves just so .... find a word for me, please~!
He opens up a bottle of champaign, and oh my god how freakin cheesy! splashes it all over us. Mira and I giggle, we can't stop. Thats too much.....
Her tongue all over my face....Or is it my tongue on her face? the champaign pearls taste like sparkeling stardust...her tongue is sweet and .... it s a girl's tongue! Her hands are soft and fragile....The moment is full of love....and when he is gone....to use the bathroom or whatever.....we start kissing......kisses like the rising sun, on the counter, dancing on the counter.....once in a lifetime....
and we did it. Gosh, girl, we had our dance on the counter! There is nothing that can take this memory away from us, never!
And I love you for being so crazy and daring and joyfully alive!
That was surely the climax of the evening...the guy later invited three of his friends and that fucked the atmosphere up...they were, as opposed to him, quite obviously horny and just not gentlemen...he was, thats for sure, he was....but a pretending gentlemen but I would be the last to accuse him for wanting to have a threesome joy that night....i mean, thats perfectly allright, as long as you can handle reality!!!
although he polittely asked why one kiss would matter and even tried to kiss me, he couldn't make it and didn't. because, as I said before, I know how to handle this kind of thing. I know when to stop....
In the grocery store across the street I invited Mira for breakfast.
Black coffee and croissants.
We looked at each other....and laughed
The poor guy, she said, giggeling, the poor guy........
But thats not the most terrible thing to admit right now. My nephew is sitting right next to me, painting me. Now thats lovely in itself, I support artistic development of our kiddos, but guess what he just did: He sat there in the couch, singing happily: "I take you to the coffee shop...."
Yeah, Mr. 50 Cent, you got them all.
And now, fuck off. Please.
I know that I've stated several times that I like that song, because of Mr. God is a DJ. Thats all, it has personal value so to say and I am prejudiced, I don't have a near to objective point of view here....but I DO THINK that this shit is for adults only. I hate the thought of young teenagers thinking they have to lick the lollipop just because it seems to be cool.
Of course, they should do that if they find they like it, but not at the vulnerable age of 12 to 15, if you ask me.
but thats just my humble opinion...anyways.
so now back to my original post:
there is a german proverb that says: to dance on the counter' and it pretty much means literally dancing on the counter, which is of course a sign of a wild party of the sort we like it....it means everybody went sorta nuts and everybody let their inhibitions go and dance wildly and freely, um, yeah, on the counter.(see link)
So, during my last nights in Berlin, my beloved, beloved Berlin, I had to go out with my beloved Mira a last time, as we've spent pretty much the whole last year partying together (it sounds more than it was..I mean, we were hard working students, really, lol, and, um, yes, we didn't go out THAT often....teeheee...)
Now, every single time she and I went out together, something crazy happened.(clap!clap!) My god, actually, when I started blogging I kept thinking 'oh jeeeesus, I have to write this down!' whenever we happened to indulge into Berlin's beautiful, cheap and wild nightlife....
Well, towards the end of our nights in Berlin we, um, for some reason, I swear I NEVER THOUGHT THAT WOULD HAPPEN, but we happened to kiss each other, more than once or twice....sweet sweet kisses, I say, and no regrets... ;-)
So, our last night together in Berlin, she and I pretty tired and freezing (yes, this summer bloody sucked this year in Berlin!) at Bar 25. We felt like, yeah, this is our last night out and we chill like that, thats a betrayal....Sitting in the way too comfortable couches just in front of the Spree (our river), electronic sound surrounded us....I fell asleep. When I woke up again I saw her talking to this guy....Yeah, now THATS my Mira! Always up for a chitchat with some sexy motherfucker!
Tired I join the conversation and within a few moments each of us held a hard drink in the hand and the guy was like "um, do you want to go dancing?"
Mira and I looked at each other and laughed. Yeah, we have to want. We know we don't want, but we know as well we have to want. It s our last night. So we better do!
On our way back in he suddenly stops and goes like:"oh i know a way better place in Kreuzberg. Wanna come? I pay the taxi..."
Mira and I look at each other.
A broad smile appears on her face. Oh you crazy motherfucker! I know you'll say yes!
The taxi stops. We look out and - the bar we stopped in front of is - dark. Nobody there.
The guy, lets call him, um, Arkan, stands already in the door "come on!"
Hesitatingly we look at him.
"it s my bar! come on, it s warm and we can have whatever drinks we like!"
Now, thats cool, and I love that kind of crazy things happening in my life, but I am also not totally naive and stupid. I know that and when I have to be cautious. I know that I can trust my intuition and that I can handle situations of a certain kind, so I whisper into Mira's ear "yeah, lets go!"
A piano.
I start playing. Music fills the air, I regret not having practiced enough but I love it so much.
He mixes some cocktails, the light is smooth like honey and Mira looks just beautiful down there.
I love her like that. It s our time now. Our time....
We sit down, smoke fine cigarettes and drink....suddenly the music switches over to some hot funk. OH MY GOD!
The sound swirls through the air, hits me in the middle of a drag of the cigarette, untightens my reason and baths me in a sudden rush of love to my heart.....haha, reading this ....hahaha. that sounds cheesy. yeah.
*chuckles*
well okay. we dance and dance, I am loose and so is the guy.
One glance in his eyes and I know what he is about to say!
"LETS DANCE ON THE COUNTER"
yeah!
wild joy of love to life fills me....I get on the counter and start dancing like its my last dance....Mira is still hesitating but I know sooner or later she'll join. She drinks life like an old Irish bastard Guiness.
Just the both of us up there. boy, this guy is lucky. As a guy, I would have loved to see that. She is so tender. She is so smooth and her moves just so .... find a word for me, please~!
He opens up a bottle of champaign, and oh my god how freakin cheesy! splashes it all over us. Mira and I giggle, we can't stop. Thats too much.....
Her tongue all over my face....Or is it my tongue on her face? the champaign pearls taste like sparkeling stardust...her tongue is sweet and .... it s a girl's tongue! Her hands are soft and fragile....The moment is full of love....and when he is gone....to use the bathroom or whatever.....we start kissing......kisses like the rising sun, on the counter, dancing on the counter.....once in a lifetime....
and we did it. Gosh, girl, we had our dance on the counter! There is nothing that can take this memory away from us, never!
And I love you for being so crazy and daring and joyfully alive!
That was surely the climax of the evening...the guy later invited three of his friends and that fucked the atmosphere up...they were, as opposed to him, quite obviously horny and just not gentlemen...he was, thats for sure, he was....but a pretending gentlemen but I would be the last to accuse him for wanting to have a threesome joy that night....i mean, thats perfectly allright, as long as you can handle reality!!!
although he polittely asked why one kiss would matter and even tried to kiss me, he couldn't make it and didn't. because, as I said before, I know how to handle this kind of thing. I know when to stop....
In the grocery store across the street I invited Mira for breakfast.
Black coffee and croissants.
We looked at each other....and laughed
The poor guy, she said, giggeling, the poor guy........
Monday, September 26, 2005
raven
when she was 15 she woke up every morning at 4 AM, or whenever the sun rose, to watch birds. she knew every single one in her little village and she often fell asleep under a bush or tree in the morning dew.
it was an intense life back then, it was as fresh as you can imagine and it was as sad as you wouldn't expect.
reading and writing about the way the dove, the stork and the eagle were perceived in different cultures and traditions, which role they played and eventually why was her struggle, she struggled and succeeded.
the mystery of nature is something we are very apt to forget in our cities. when birds sing its just birds. it s not further defined because its not important.
right then, move on, it will become important as soon as the chain is broken and we threatened by sth bigger than ourselves.
ravens were the only thing missing, the missing link. she always kept in her mind that she actually wanted to complete her research with ravens. the dove, the stork, the eagle, - it was the raven missing. the messenger of death, the other world but also wealth, - often associated with witches, highly appreciated by native tribes all over the wolrd.
whenever she saw ravens or related birds she would remember the promise she gave herself, the promise to investigate the mystery of the ravens.
the unsolved problem was wrapped with more unsolved problems. pedro, for example. oh pedro, you make me sigh, make my heart feel as heavy as concrete....drugs, abuse, indifference, loss, journey...
the trip to los angeles was a leap into the unknown, born in a cold grey november london morning in 2004. where does my life take me to? will i ever find steady love? will i be right here?
no matter where you go
there you are
down close to third street promenade she saw a guy driving on an enormously high bike, built out of two bikes. in the tradition of her sister she opened the window: hey sexy babe!
usually thats a drive by comment but unfortunately or should i say, fortunately this guy happened to go to the same shop as they went. they both smiled, being aware of the akward embarrassment of the situation...
can i drive your bike?
when you are back.
when she got out of the shop he let her drive. she was good at it and enjoyed the wind in her hair.
toni toni, look, don t you think thats freaking cool?
crazy girl the guy said. crazy girl.
his name is raven.
i am sure they both felt the connection, the smiles were talking their own language....
he invited her to a party he throws on friday. said he maybe would trade a bike like this for a painting (usually would charge about 200 $)
where are you from
berlin
welcome then in california!
she freaked out in the car.
look look she said. thats what i m talking about. this is how my life works. going with the flow and things happen. he is an artist and no matter what, a great connection.
happy she rolls herself together in the back of the car.
raven is his name
raven
it was an intense life back then, it was as fresh as you can imagine and it was as sad as you wouldn't expect.
reading and writing about the way the dove, the stork and the eagle were perceived in different cultures and traditions, which role they played and eventually why was her struggle, she struggled and succeeded.
the mystery of nature is something we are very apt to forget in our cities. when birds sing its just birds. it s not further defined because its not important.
right then, move on, it will become important as soon as the chain is broken and we threatened by sth bigger than ourselves.
ravens were the only thing missing, the missing link. she always kept in her mind that she actually wanted to complete her research with ravens. the dove, the stork, the eagle, - it was the raven missing. the messenger of death, the other world but also wealth, - often associated with witches, highly appreciated by native tribes all over the wolrd.
whenever she saw ravens or related birds she would remember the promise she gave herself, the promise to investigate the mystery of the ravens.
the unsolved problem was wrapped with more unsolved problems. pedro, for example. oh pedro, you make me sigh, make my heart feel as heavy as concrete....drugs, abuse, indifference, loss, journey...
the trip to los angeles was a leap into the unknown, born in a cold grey november london morning in 2004. where does my life take me to? will i ever find steady love? will i be right here?
no matter where you go
there you are
down close to third street promenade she saw a guy driving on an enormously high bike, built out of two bikes. in the tradition of her sister she opened the window: hey sexy babe!
usually thats a drive by comment but unfortunately or should i say, fortunately this guy happened to go to the same shop as they went. they both smiled, being aware of the akward embarrassment of the situation...
can i drive your bike?
when you are back.
when she got out of the shop he let her drive. she was good at it and enjoyed the wind in her hair.
toni toni, look, don t you think thats freaking cool?
crazy girl the guy said. crazy girl.
his name is raven.
i am sure they both felt the connection, the smiles were talking their own language....
he invited her to a party he throws on friday. said he maybe would trade a bike like this for a painting (usually would charge about 200 $)
where are you from
berlin
welcome then in california!
she freaked out in the car.
look look she said. thats what i m talking about. this is how my life works. going with the flow and things happen. he is an artist and no matter what, a great connection.
happy she rolls herself together in the back of the car.
raven is his name
raven
Saturday, September 24, 2005
amazing grace. lets join the blabbing bubble dubble gubble :)
my brother in law just showed me the 1928 movie he engineered sound for during his producerclasses at MI.
obviously people where tripping when they heard it, as it was his first project and just, oh my god, so fucking amazing!!!!!
the teacher said he should do it as a professional and shit.
ha! I thought it was quite good but it didn't impress me like i don't know what.
and now i understand slowly the hype about my person at my college in berlin. i don't say that in a self conceited way because, honestly, i didn't get it really at all. but slowly i understand that the majority of people have no clue what really is amazing but are quickly impressed by blabbing like from yours truly. for american standards i am very shy and sort of self conscious. but for europe i am probably quite outgoing and yeah, blessed with a healthy self esteem.
in a previous post about how fair destiny is or something like this i talked about how i was the one in my family who didn't have problems at all in school and shit and my sis here apparently told my other sister how strange that seemed to her and stuff. well, when i came here it was ME who was surprised to hear from everybody around me how fucking great they are in what they are doing. whether or not that is true, may not be up to me to judge, but it is a matter of fact that here in los angeles everybody is just freaking amazing in what they are doing,.
now i understand my sister who sort of freaks out with pohtographers who are overpaid just because they photographed famous people and claim to have 15 years of experience. she stil makes better photos and they are more artful then most of teh shit you will find here. and it s not only with photographers it is with the whole film and music industry.
they are introduced to producers and composers who are, oh my god so freakin amazing! and then, honestly speaking, they simply suck. at first my sis would go like to her hubby and ask ' am I an arrogant bitch or whats the matter? or simply stupid?' but he would also think that this is bullshit so they came to the conclusion that there are obviously so many OH MY GOD SOOO AMAZING PEOPLE out there who are just freakin lame. you know what i mean?
i just wonder where that comes from...hollywood greasses its own weels maybe a little too much.....but maybe thats also a common american feature? what about bush and the people who really voted for him? now, THATS AMAZING!
the good things about it is, that i can learn how to promote myself relentlessly and self convinced. thats something i wouldn t learn like that in Europe, thats for sure. I just have to joing the blabbinb bubble dubble gubble and then we will see how gorgeous i am, ahhh, so effing amazing.....hahaha.
obviously people where tripping when they heard it, as it was his first project and just, oh my god, so fucking amazing!!!!!
the teacher said he should do it as a professional and shit.
ha! I thought it was quite good but it didn't impress me like i don't know what.
and now i understand slowly the hype about my person at my college in berlin. i don't say that in a self conceited way because, honestly, i didn't get it really at all. but slowly i understand that the majority of people have no clue what really is amazing but are quickly impressed by blabbing like from yours truly. for american standards i am very shy and sort of self conscious. but for europe i am probably quite outgoing and yeah, blessed with a healthy self esteem.
in a previous post about how fair destiny is or something like this i talked about how i was the one in my family who didn't have problems at all in school and shit and my sis here apparently told my other sister how strange that seemed to her and stuff. well, when i came here it was ME who was surprised to hear from everybody around me how fucking great they are in what they are doing. whether or not that is true, may not be up to me to judge, but it is a matter of fact that here in los angeles everybody is just freaking amazing in what they are doing,.
now i understand my sister who sort of freaks out with pohtographers who are overpaid just because they photographed famous people and claim to have 15 years of experience. she stil makes better photos and they are more artful then most of teh shit you will find here. and it s not only with photographers it is with the whole film and music industry.
they are introduced to producers and composers who are, oh my god so freakin amazing! and then, honestly speaking, they simply suck. at first my sis would go like to her hubby and ask ' am I an arrogant bitch or whats the matter? or simply stupid?' but he would also think that this is bullshit so they came to the conclusion that there are obviously so many OH MY GOD SOOO AMAZING PEOPLE out there who are just freakin lame. you know what i mean?
i just wonder where that comes from...hollywood greasses its own weels maybe a little too much.....but maybe thats also a common american feature? what about bush and the people who really voted for him? now, THATS AMAZING!
the good things about it is, that i can learn how to promote myself relentlessly and self convinced. thats something i wouldn t learn like that in Europe, thats for sure. I just have to joing the blabbinb bubble dubble gubble and then we will see how gorgeous i am, ahhh, so effing amazing.....hahaha.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
roots
just been watching roots....first episode...my suspect nature makes me wonder about the accuracy of the representation of the gambian tribes back in 1750 and how it really was like to be transported as a slave over the atlantic ocean....what happened to excrements? I mean they ate, so they must have had to shit too, right? i assume it was way more horrible.
no matter what, though - this makes me cry. again. it makes me cry to think about the cruelty of the Argentinian Junta to throw sleeping people right into the ocean, from an airplane....uncomfortable citizens, political enemies...
it makes me cry to see native americans all devastated due to alcohol and a crime done to their people which, un-fortuna-tely, has been equaled by many other crimes in this world.
it all brings me back to my initial feelings about America, when I just arrived here...this strange feeling about America's soul which I can't really find. I think it s just a refusal of my side to face and accept that we are now in 2001 and are living our own reality, which, admittedley, is based on two horrible crimes, two horrible acts of raping a people....the entire native american tribes and the people from Africa. Cruely speaking one could say that America's wealth is built on the near extinction of a people and the exploitation of the other.
I cry writing this. I know I can't put it in the right words, but it just simply hurts me so much again, and again, and again. It's not a recent realization of mine. No. I've already spent many many tears because of that. And it's so fucking weird that it seems as if I can't get over it. Sort of. because it is history, because it already happened! Well, maybe its me just having PMS. I don't know. But then again, PMS just brings sensitive issues to the front so its still real.....
I can't accept that human beings do such things. and we still do and it makes me fucking sick. I am spoiled. I am soft. I am not a warrior although I always wanted to be one. We talk so much and I feel like I do too little. But the confusion is so big as where to start. In my daily private life? Projects? Understanding, studying, learning, teaching?
I don't know, really.
How could we do this, really. How could we possibly be doing this...again and again and again...what is that???
no matter what, though - this makes me cry. again. it makes me cry to think about the cruelty of the Argentinian Junta to throw sleeping people right into the ocean, from an airplane....uncomfortable citizens, political enemies...
it makes me cry to see native americans all devastated due to alcohol and a crime done to their people which, un-fortuna-tely, has been equaled by many other crimes in this world.
it all brings me back to my initial feelings about America, when I just arrived here...this strange feeling about America's soul which I can't really find. I think it s just a refusal of my side to face and accept that we are now in 2001 and are living our own reality, which, admittedley, is based on two horrible crimes, two horrible acts of raping a people....the entire native american tribes and the people from Africa. Cruely speaking one could say that America's wealth is built on the near extinction of a people and the exploitation of the other.
I cry writing this. I know I can't put it in the right words, but it just simply hurts me so much again, and again, and again. It's not a recent realization of mine. No. I've already spent many many tears because of that. And it's so fucking weird that it seems as if I can't get over it. Sort of. because it is history, because it already happened! Well, maybe its me just having PMS. I don't know. But then again, PMS just brings sensitive issues to the front so its still real.....
I can't accept that human beings do such things. and we still do and it makes me fucking sick. I am spoiled. I am soft. I am not a warrior although I always wanted to be one. We talk so much and I feel like I do too little. But the confusion is so big as where to start. In my daily private life? Projects? Understanding, studying, learning, teaching?
I don't know, really.
How could we do this, really. How could we possibly be doing this...again and again and again...what is that???
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
flash back
My London Connectin of CouchSurfing gave me this CD. he had been over at my place in Berlin to party just for a weekend...we had a great time...it was that party I went for a 10 km run afterwards without even having slept... I think I wrote somewhere a post on that but right now the linklink is missing here so I can t link that up, sorry.
Anyways - now, in Los Angeles, my music addicted ass didn't get at all the daily portion of music input I am actually used to. It's just so busy here. And the TV annoys the shit out of me. Or so.... And then, at the gym, I finally had the possiblity to listen to this CD.
...
Its house, guys, its straight house and techno. The music I have always claimed to be the only style I don't like.
And yet, it is my Berlingas. It is what kept me driving in Berlin....Oh, I had this huge flash back, this HUGe flash back and almost freaked out. Rocking your body to the rythm of the sound...ahhh.....flashback to Mr. God is a DJ. To MIRA< my love! To Mik....the artist who saved my integrity and independence....all the creepy people who tried to get some ass.....the drugged up people who looked so wacko in the mornings when the party would be at the heights....to Isa, the crazy dancer in the dark......to hourless nights when I danced through, living off my endorphines only.....to T, my little alcsis, with tears in her eyese, breaking up just another time with her boyfriend....to max and his incredible kisses....in deep deep.....bar 25.....panorama bar.....senefelder.....kissing mira....dancing on the counter with mira........chilling on chairs in a cold february morning sun in the middle of the sidewalk with mira.......and the boys...clapclap.......nunu, my cosmasista from far away....sleeping in N2 or subways after a long long party...and i mean, long. ! long is, the next day already......to alex, zoo, kreuzberg, warschauer bruecke.....rosi's,....yaam.....and again. bar 25.....flashback to yeah. Berlin. Crazy light, sound, event artists....underground in the purest fashion I've ever seen.
Funny, how everything that reminds you of your 'home' becomes so dear to your heart when you are somewhere where you feel sort of alienated.....
----------------------------------------
so that one goes out for Mira!
Anyways - now, in Los Angeles, my music addicted ass didn't get at all the daily portion of music input I am actually used to. It's just so busy here. And the TV annoys the shit out of me. Or so.... And then, at the gym, I finally had the possiblity to listen to this CD.
...
Its house, guys, its straight house and techno. The music I have always claimed to be the only style I don't like.
And yet, it is my Berlingas. It is what kept me driving in Berlin....Oh, I had this huge flash back, this HUGe flash back and almost freaked out. Rocking your body to the rythm of the sound...ahhh.....flashback to Mr. God is a DJ. To MIRA< my love! To Mik....the artist who saved my integrity and independence....all the creepy people who tried to get some ass.....the drugged up people who looked so wacko in the mornings when the party would be at the heights....to Isa, the crazy dancer in the dark......to hourless nights when I danced through, living off my endorphines only.....to T, my little alcsis, with tears in her eyese, breaking up just another time with her boyfriend....to max and his incredible kisses....in deep deep.....bar 25.....panorama bar.....senefelder.....kissing mira....dancing on the counter with mira........chilling on chairs in a cold february morning sun in the middle of the sidewalk with mira.......and the boys...clapclap.......nunu, my cosmasista from far away....sleeping in N2 or subways after a long long party...and i mean, long. ! long is, the next day already......to alex, zoo, kreuzberg, warschauer bruecke.....rosi's,....yaam.....and again. bar 25.....flashback to yeah. Berlin. Crazy light, sound, event artists....underground in the purest fashion I've ever seen.
Funny, how everything that reminds you of your 'home' becomes so dear to your heart when you are somewhere where you feel sort of alienated.....
----------------------------------------
so that one goes out for Mira!
Monday, September 19, 2005
black out. America from insideout. The perspective of a stranger
"Honestly, they look down at themselves. You know, I had this girlfriend in Miami...It was incredible. She always had to tell me that she has a college degree, and all the things she achieved and she would always buy me something and do anything to make me feel good. And I mean, gosh, she looked GREAT, she was such a cool and nice lady....But still she seemed to have to do this. I got mad, really....
Ah- You will understand that, when you live here a little longer. When I first came here, I was like, Hey, cool, I wanna get to know Afro Americans, and they all loved me where we lived. We lived in that neighborhood where only blacks would live. They LOVED me. I was the cool European you know, who didn't have any prejudices yet and stuff. But after a while, boy, it s so annoying.... They really look down at themselves and thats why they need such big cars and bling bling and all that stuff....Always acting as if they were big and stuff, but in reality they look down at themselves. You know, in Miami, the BEST looking guys would date the ugliest European white girls you can imagine...they could have had anyone, but they seemed to take an odd pride in dating a white girl or so, I don't know.
Also, when you get mad at someone who is black, he will never take it personal but always blame it on the colour of his skin, on the fact that you are white racist trash. The same with Jews, I am sorry to say that, but experience just showed me that it is like that in most of the cases. You can be best friends with a black person but when it comes down to it and you have a fight they will always accuse you being a racist....or at the restaurant I worked at...nobody wanted to have the tables with only black people....because they would always make trouble and leave the table without paying and stuff, accusing you being a racist and letting them wait longer than the rest and shit....I couldn t believe it, but it was really like that..."
Silently I gaze out into the darkness. In the distance I hear a car driving by, HipHop bounces through the air....
Afro Americans.
Africans.
Europe, Africa, America.
These words hurt, damn. These words hurt big time. When I was at the shore of Manhattan I cried bitter tears because it hurts me to remember what my ancestors did. It hurts me to see what we do now, what we do passively by letting it happen without interfering too much. All of us, no matter which colour your skin has. There are always good and bad people no matter where, I mean, gosh, there must have been people cooperating in Africa to make the slavery possible. And I know there were people. - The holy New York Stock Exchange Temple. It s a temple, damn, it s really the building of a TEM'PLE! I couldn't really believe it.
I slept three nights in Brooklyn, NY. The first night Franchize, a Nigerian Rapper was introduced to me by a Canadian guy whom I had met in the airplane. The next night I sat next to this guy who was having a passionate conversation about Socrates on his phone. As I was studying philosophy the whole last year I was, naturally, amused and alerted. When he hung up the phone I smiled at him and asked him what the matter was with Socrates.... He was waiting for the bus but after one and a half hours of amazing conversation he decided to give me shelter for a night and I could stay at his place for the next two nights. We hung out the whole following day, he showed me around in New York....He was a good guy. He didn't get sexual. He was just showing a great deal of amazing hospitality. I felt so lucky and blessed to be able to experience this. I lost my wallet in New York. Someone found it and gave it to a guy whos number happened to be in there.
The guy I stayed with, let us call him Mike, was Afro American...One of his grandmothers was half native American half Afro American.
I wonder, whether he would call me a racist when having an argument. I don't know, but it makes me all sad.
Even if my brother in law was right with what he was saying I would not just let it be like that. There is a psychological reason behind everything. And a responsibility of all of us to change, face the future and the past in order to go on.
America.
I am surprised that I find it so different from Europe, but it sure is. I miss Berlin a lot, I miss - well, real Cafes, you know, I can't really put a finger on it, but there is a difference... The buildings are different. The people are different. It s almost as if there wasn't only the American Dream breathable in the air but also a whiff of ignorance we use to blame Americans with back in Europe. People are so damn assure of what they are doing sort of. It feels like a huge swimming pool in which the people dwell. I felt as if I have roots over here, when I was in Europe...My mom is Alaskan and there is definetly something belonging to America inside of me, but I have a hard time finding it.
It s so strange because I love the music so much. So much great music, inventions, movies and stuff come from America. Who can blame a people to be patriotic? Germans have too little of that. A broken self-esteem that will need hundres and hundres of years to be recovered. Maybe better not? Hm.
I love the music and yet I can't associate it with the people. I can't find the soul, thats it. My sister would laugh at me reading this, I know, because she uses to say she had an overdose of new age stuff. But honestly, where is the soul? It s seems to be so fucked up, I don't feel like the people have a right living here. But in the same time, who am I? History is history and bad things happen all along and yeah, a people invades another country and conquers that land. its been not the first time to happen.
But still it makes me feel so odd. And then again, when I think of how much I love any kind of music and dance that comes from the 'black diaspora', the whole black atlantic area I start being amazed as to how fertile a originally incredibly unfair and bad action, that is slavery, could produce so beautiful a culture.
Is it, that pain always gives birth to new beautiful life???
please, whoever reads this - please share your thoughts with me. I am truly still at a loss to understand what I am confronted with. Especially what my brother in law said about Afro Americans in the beginning....How do you see all this? Would you agree? Differenciate? Negate????
Ah- You will understand that, when you live here a little longer. When I first came here, I was like, Hey, cool, I wanna get to know Afro Americans, and they all loved me where we lived. We lived in that neighborhood where only blacks would live. They LOVED me. I was the cool European you know, who didn't have any prejudices yet and stuff. But after a while, boy, it s so annoying.... They really look down at themselves and thats why they need such big cars and bling bling and all that stuff....Always acting as if they were big and stuff, but in reality they look down at themselves. You know, in Miami, the BEST looking guys would date the ugliest European white girls you can imagine...they could have had anyone, but they seemed to take an odd pride in dating a white girl or so, I don't know.
Also, when you get mad at someone who is black, he will never take it personal but always blame it on the colour of his skin, on the fact that you are white racist trash. The same with Jews, I am sorry to say that, but experience just showed me that it is like that in most of the cases. You can be best friends with a black person but when it comes down to it and you have a fight they will always accuse you being a racist....or at the restaurant I worked at...nobody wanted to have the tables with only black people....because they would always make trouble and leave the table without paying and stuff, accusing you being a racist and letting them wait longer than the rest and shit....I couldn t believe it, but it was really like that..."
Silently I gaze out into the darkness. In the distance I hear a car driving by, HipHop bounces through the air....
Afro Americans.
Africans.
Europe, Africa, America.
These words hurt, damn. These words hurt big time. When I was at the shore of Manhattan I cried bitter tears because it hurts me to remember what my ancestors did. It hurts me to see what we do now, what we do passively by letting it happen without interfering too much. All of us, no matter which colour your skin has. There are always good and bad people no matter where, I mean, gosh, there must have been people cooperating in Africa to make the slavery possible. And I know there were people. - The holy New York Stock Exchange Temple. It s a temple, damn, it s really the building of a TEM'PLE! I couldn't really believe it.
I slept three nights in Brooklyn, NY. The first night Franchize, a Nigerian Rapper was introduced to me by a Canadian guy whom I had met in the airplane. The next night I sat next to this guy who was having a passionate conversation about Socrates on his phone. As I was studying philosophy the whole last year I was, naturally, amused and alerted. When he hung up the phone I smiled at him and asked him what the matter was with Socrates.... He was waiting for the bus but after one and a half hours of amazing conversation he decided to give me shelter for a night and I could stay at his place for the next two nights. We hung out the whole following day, he showed me around in New York....He was a good guy. He didn't get sexual. He was just showing a great deal of amazing hospitality. I felt so lucky and blessed to be able to experience this. I lost my wallet in New York. Someone found it and gave it to a guy whos number happened to be in there.
The guy I stayed with, let us call him Mike, was Afro American...One of his grandmothers was half native American half Afro American.
I wonder, whether he would call me a racist when having an argument. I don't know, but it makes me all sad.
Even if my brother in law was right with what he was saying I would not just let it be like that. There is a psychological reason behind everything. And a responsibility of all of us to change, face the future and the past in order to go on.
America.
I am surprised that I find it so different from Europe, but it sure is. I miss Berlin a lot, I miss - well, real Cafes, you know, I can't really put a finger on it, but there is a difference... The buildings are different. The people are different. It s almost as if there wasn't only the American Dream breathable in the air but also a whiff of ignorance we use to blame Americans with back in Europe. People are so damn assure of what they are doing sort of. It feels like a huge swimming pool in which the people dwell. I felt as if I have roots over here, when I was in Europe...My mom is Alaskan and there is definetly something belonging to America inside of me, but I have a hard time finding it.
It s so strange because I love the music so much. So much great music, inventions, movies and stuff come from America. Who can blame a people to be patriotic? Germans have too little of that. A broken self-esteem that will need hundres and hundres of years to be recovered. Maybe better not? Hm.
I love the music and yet I can't associate it with the people. I can't find the soul, thats it. My sister would laugh at me reading this, I know, because she uses to say she had an overdose of new age stuff. But honestly, where is the soul? It s seems to be so fucked up, I don't feel like the people have a right living here. But in the same time, who am I? History is history and bad things happen all along and yeah, a people invades another country and conquers that land. its been not the first time to happen.
But still it makes me feel so odd. And then again, when I think of how much I love any kind of music and dance that comes from the 'black diaspora', the whole black atlantic area I start being amazed as to how fertile a originally incredibly unfair and bad action, that is slavery, could produce so beautiful a culture.
Is it, that pain always gives birth to new beautiful life???
please, whoever reads this - please share your thoughts with me. I am truly still at a loss to understand what I am confronted with. Especially what my brother in law said about Afro Americans in the beginning....How do you see all this? Would you agree? Differenciate? Negate????
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
smile
It s crazy how SMOOTH my journey started and still continues.
Starting with Mr. Asshole buying me a flight down from Berlin to Basel (the easiest way with so much luggage), a good riend of mine coming along to London (she, too, helped a lot with luggage), my sister visiting me in London and then finally, finally, me alone on the plane to New York via Reykjavic, Iceland.
It felt GREAT. Oh my god, it s been such a long time since I last flew somewhere FAR away. Matter of fact it s five years back from now, when I flew to RUssia. Big adventure, as well.
Life has funny ways, and just as to make a point about coincidences (or the nonexistence of so called coincidentes) it puts exactly those people next to me in the plane, to whom I had talked when queing or the check in.
I smile.
IN Reykjavic its rainy and boring. I need a shower. Again, while waiting to board I see this guy who responds to my smile. That didn t happen at all in London (in London people look really isolated in the crowd). Now I am curious to find out who will be sitting next to me. Will it be this guy?
He sits behind me. We start talking, he offers me sth to drink in a juice bottle, it turns out to be wine. Good french wine.
Smile.
He is the guy to talk to. He is the one I will converse with during this flight.
The only girl who smiled back at the airport joins our conversation later. He had recognized her as well earlier in the waiting hall. It turns out she has an erotic shop in Iceland.
Smile.
This guy doesn t seem to have normal drinks. Later he offers me sth that looks like orange juice but it is vodka orange.
smile.
I am flying to New York being tipsy. I can t believe it. I shake my head and look down at the ocean. Ice everywhere ice...
The smoothness of my journey climaxes when this guy finds out about me not being sure where to stay at at New York and he makes a quick phonecall - I can stay at his friends house.
A nigerian rapper, 'franchize', who has a really interesting approach to the whole thing, nice concept, nice ideas. He was recently featured in the phat magazine and also in the vibe magazine.
So I spend my first night in New York somewhere in Brooklyn on a roof, with the most gorgeous view ever.
Smile.
We start talking about everything and nothing and finally he asks me which kind of guys I used to date back in Berlin.
What?
Green, blue, black, white. Dammit. But I know where he s getting at.
Smile.
once you go black you never go back, right?
he says that black guys usually don t like those skinny skinny girls. they like woman, you know. real woman
smile.
haha. Oh jesus. Okay. I know what will come next
Yeah, you know, you got anyways more a body that could be a black woman's body.
See, I knew it.
Smile.
Dammit, but my skin is white, i mean, at least i could have black skin then, as well, right?
Oh but it don t matter. Gosh, who cares about colour anyways?
We all do.
Hm
He raps for me on the roof, I feel honoured. The subways is driving right through my head, I feel unsteady. Suddenly I get so tired. I fall asleep on his couch and his offer to sleep on his bed drowns in my dreams, with a smile on my face I drift away. New York black radio is on. I drift away....
thats my big apple tonight
my smile
Starting with Mr. Asshole buying me a flight down from Berlin to Basel (the easiest way with so much luggage), a good riend of mine coming along to London (she, too, helped a lot with luggage), my sister visiting me in London and then finally, finally, me alone on the plane to New York via Reykjavic, Iceland.
It felt GREAT. Oh my god, it s been such a long time since I last flew somewhere FAR away. Matter of fact it s five years back from now, when I flew to RUssia. Big adventure, as well.
Life has funny ways, and just as to make a point about coincidences (or the nonexistence of so called coincidentes) it puts exactly those people next to me in the plane, to whom I had talked when queing or the check in.
I smile.
IN Reykjavic its rainy and boring. I need a shower. Again, while waiting to board I see this guy who responds to my smile. That didn t happen at all in London (in London people look really isolated in the crowd). Now I am curious to find out who will be sitting next to me. Will it be this guy?
He sits behind me. We start talking, he offers me sth to drink in a juice bottle, it turns out to be wine. Good french wine.
Smile.
He is the guy to talk to. He is the one I will converse with during this flight.
The only girl who smiled back at the airport joins our conversation later. He had recognized her as well earlier in the waiting hall. It turns out she has an erotic shop in Iceland.
Smile.
This guy doesn t seem to have normal drinks. Later he offers me sth that looks like orange juice but it is vodka orange.
smile.
I am flying to New York being tipsy. I can t believe it. I shake my head and look down at the ocean. Ice everywhere ice...
The smoothness of my journey climaxes when this guy finds out about me not being sure where to stay at at New York and he makes a quick phonecall - I can stay at his friends house.
A nigerian rapper, 'franchize', who has a really interesting approach to the whole thing, nice concept, nice ideas. He was recently featured in the phat magazine and also in the vibe magazine.
So I spend my first night in New York somewhere in Brooklyn on a roof, with the most gorgeous view ever.
Smile.
We start talking about everything and nothing and finally he asks me which kind of guys I used to date back in Berlin.
What?
Green, blue, black, white. Dammit. But I know where he s getting at.
Smile.
once you go black you never go back, right?
he says that black guys usually don t like those skinny skinny girls. they like woman, you know. real woman
smile.
haha. Oh jesus. Okay. I know what will come next
Yeah, you know, you got anyways more a body that could be a black woman's body.
See, I knew it.
Smile.
Dammit, but my skin is white, i mean, at least i could have black skin then, as well, right?
Oh but it don t matter. Gosh, who cares about colour anyways?
We all do.
Hm
He raps for me on the roof, I feel honoured. The subways is driving right through my head, I feel unsteady. Suddenly I get so tired. I fall asleep on his couch and his offer to sleep on his bed drowns in my dreams, with a smile on my face I drift away. New York black radio is on. I drift away....
thats my big apple tonight
my smile
Monday, September 05, 2005
life's funny ways...# 3
Did I say before how funny I think life has a way of getting around?
Ms. Piranha has a hard time not giving in to the irritatingly hot vibes between her and Mr. Asshole. I KNOW he is an Asshole and I said that many times before. But I think all of you know how fucked up energy is at times. Just happens. Bam. No chance, no questions, its just there and leaves you at a loss as to how to deal with it.
Then there is the big D and Ms. Piranha has an even harder time not to make a complete fool out of herself and start stalking him or something. That would be fucked up, sure.
So going out is a good solution. Get some music in your system and forget about them guys. The time she gets home she almost falls asleep standing, no matter where. Crawls into her bed. Sleeps. When she wakes up there is this message 'u still in town?'
...
blank.
It s HIM. OMG!!!!!
Mr. God is a DJ, who disappeared like back in April or so, writes me a message, JUST IN TIME before I leave and before I, right, make one or two big mistakes.
Now, tell me, isn't it unbelievably funny how life sends Mr. God is a DJ just IN TIME?
That night I painted a picture I ve always thought of painting for him, just as a thank you for what he has showed and offered to me. He opened up a whole new world for me, unlocked a new resort of self confidence, reconciled me with the woman inside of me. So to say :)
The painting was done within 4 hours or so. Everybody in the studio was like : oh what, Ms. P what in the eff did happen to you? I ve painted there now since a week and they saw me progressing in my own slow way, taking my time and taking it for ever to finish a painting. Always unsatisfied and stuff. But this time it was just perfect. It was beautiful and I was damn excited to give it to him.
Needless to say he loved it, he was blown away actually. Stupid me, I even don t have a photo of it and I might just never see him again. Hm. But thats me. I am stupid. Whatever. It will hang in his studio and who knows, maybe some people will ask him who the artist was and I get more work to do :)
But thats beside the point. I am just so amazed. So freakin amazed how life works. It s INCREDIBLE!!!! encroyable....
Ms. Piranha has a hard time not giving in to the irritatingly hot vibes between her and Mr. Asshole. I KNOW he is an Asshole and I said that many times before. But I think all of you know how fucked up energy is at times. Just happens. Bam. No chance, no questions, its just there and leaves you at a loss as to how to deal with it.
Then there is the big D and Ms. Piranha has an even harder time not to make a complete fool out of herself and start stalking him or something. That would be fucked up, sure.
So going out is a good solution. Get some music in your system and forget about them guys. The time she gets home she almost falls asleep standing, no matter where. Crawls into her bed. Sleeps. When she wakes up there is this message 'u still in town?'
...
blank.
It s HIM. OMG!!!!!
Mr. God is a DJ, who disappeared like back in April or so, writes me a message, JUST IN TIME before I leave and before I, right, make one or two big mistakes.
Now, tell me, isn't it unbelievably funny how life sends Mr. God is a DJ just IN TIME?
That night I painted a picture I ve always thought of painting for him, just as a thank you for what he has showed and offered to me. He opened up a whole new world for me, unlocked a new resort of self confidence, reconciled me with the woman inside of me. So to say :)
The painting was done within 4 hours or so. Everybody in the studio was like : oh what, Ms. P what in the eff did happen to you? I ve painted there now since a week and they saw me progressing in my own slow way, taking my time and taking it for ever to finish a painting. Always unsatisfied and stuff. But this time it was just perfect. It was beautiful and I was damn excited to give it to him.
Needless to say he loved it, he was blown away actually. Stupid me, I even don t have a photo of it and I might just never see him again. Hm. But thats me. I am stupid. Whatever. It will hang in his studio and who knows, maybe some people will ask him who the artist was and I get more work to do :)
But thats beside the point. I am just so amazed. So freakin amazed how life works. It s INCREDIBLE!!!! encroyable....
Thursday, September 01, 2005
i know
okay. see, i know you read this.
i know that there are some people who know me personally read this blog occasionally. well, those whom i told about it for some reason know me well enough to distinguish stuff, how it is meant, what is fiction, what is most probably reality and all the works.
well. just recently some approached me because stuff i wrote was whack, mistaken and blah. it s not the first time. i have received mails which were based on stuff i wrote and people drew conclusions by what i wrote.
i just want to clarify here once more what this blog is about: it IS a writing experiment and in the same time a ventile for me to express myself. whatever i write, sure it s not FAKE, as the title already indicates. but not all can be taken literally, not all is meant dead serious, whenever i write about me personally, for example you guys should keep in mind that i am being sarcastic and self ironical most of the time. i have good laughs about myself at times. and at times stuff i write is merely therapeutical. so if i, for example post stuff that people wrote about me in the yearbook and it s all oh so self flattering its therapeutical. this blog is meant to be anonymous in the first place. i don t have to prove anybody whether or not i am loved, cool or stupid and fucked up. you bloggers know that probably because you have your own blogs. if i had a bad day and write something to make me feel better its really for that fucking sake, okay? i have a blog that i write for my friends and family and as a matter of fact it is different from this experiment here.
here it s all a mirror, it s all reflection, all filtered through my perspective, respective mood, music i am listening to when i am writing and stuff that happens around me. it s an expressive experiment so to say.
and now shut the fuck up all of you and enjoy or leave. i don t feel i need to justify myself ever again for making myself vulnerable. i am done with the toughtough nut stuff.
i know that there are some people who know me personally read this blog occasionally. well, those whom i told about it for some reason know me well enough to distinguish stuff, how it is meant, what is fiction, what is most probably reality and all the works.
well. just recently some approached me because stuff i wrote was whack, mistaken and blah. it s not the first time. i have received mails which were based on stuff i wrote and people drew conclusions by what i wrote.
i just want to clarify here once more what this blog is about: it IS a writing experiment and in the same time a ventile for me to express myself. whatever i write, sure it s not FAKE, as the title already indicates. but not all can be taken literally, not all is meant dead serious, whenever i write about me personally, for example you guys should keep in mind that i am being sarcastic and self ironical most of the time. i have good laughs about myself at times. and at times stuff i write is merely therapeutical. so if i, for example post stuff that people wrote about me in the yearbook and it s all oh so self flattering its therapeutical. this blog is meant to be anonymous in the first place. i don t have to prove anybody whether or not i am loved, cool or stupid and fucked up. you bloggers know that probably because you have your own blogs. if i had a bad day and write something to make me feel better its really for that fucking sake, okay? i have a blog that i write for my friends and family and as a matter of fact it is different from this experiment here.
here it s all a mirror, it s all reflection, all filtered through my perspective, respective mood, music i am listening to when i am writing and stuff that happens around me. it s an expressive experiment so to say.
and now shut the fuck up all of you and enjoy or leave. i don t feel i need to justify myself ever again for making myself vulnerable. i am done with the toughtough nut stuff.
Sunday, August 28, 2005
night mare fairy tale
In this moment we became the ghosts we weren't. mere representatives of souls who were hiding and waiting somewhere else in a place that would not allow for casualities and stupidities...
...paleness of skin although you are so dark.
white pearly teeth behind a strained smile.
eyes talking, hiding, masking, unmasking. flattering eyelashes, dying butterflies, escaping my stomach, landing on your eyes. it's been a while. curiosity getting the best of us.
--
unkissed kisses wet the air. I feel exhausted, stressed, something is wrong and I can't tell what it is. Just like in those dreams in which you want to run and feel your legs are heavy as concrete.
Our bodies talking their talks, whispering in the overpowering, overwhelming noisiness around us. they talk and talk, keep talking, yearn, fight, at times grind into each other at others just playfully raise the tension, filling space and distances, turn on, turn off, struggle to suceed - and yet we have thought too much already. the sweetness I feel down there, the tender and oh so soft weakness inside my heart that wants to give in is already mingled with a whiff of bitterness and saddened smiles. I talk to you. explain, come and go, just like the tide, oh, my, I don't know which moon made me go mad like this. going back to those shadows who came with me. who wanted to see you. wanted to protect me. whom i wanted to protect me.
from what? from my own longing? my wish? my desire? from what everybody is dying to hear in that honey sweet moon voice? from love?
desperate maybe but at any rate willing to give it a chance to show, grow, make us spin around and change direction in the middle of the fall we were. repeating the unrepeatable. doing the tabooed, forbidden, tracing our own steps with the desperation of strangers who have met something familiar in the depths of the unknown.
everythings is everything. all is one. we feel how we exit the wholeness of our beings, of the allembracing, allencompassing by emerging into the shaky, freezing sphere of unsatisfied search for the unsearchable. our own longing tears us apart. our failure to understand our common language. our unwillingness to accept the structure of space and time, our refusing to give in to the mystery of our lives. of our encounter, of our touching.
oh when I remember the sweet touch of the southern winds in my hair back in my childhood days. the sung songs about you and my love, my everlasting, all encompassing, neverending love for you, you and you, high up in the tree tops of a magic cherry tree.... tears dwell in my eyes, in my heart, my tongue tastes the salty holy water instead of your lips...
and when I turned around to look for you, to introduce you to mr.asshole you were gone.
gone like the wind who leaves the tender - just about to blossom - apple trees in the gloaming twilight.... and my tears are just morning dew in all its beauty...
-----------------------------
I accept the sun to dry them
Within the millisecond in which I slowly realized your absence I understood that you saved our integrity. you undid the hypocrisy of absent souls in a meaningful moment.
being physically absent was the most genuine thing possible to do. we are not talking about rules, sets of behavior, does and don'ts... souls can only unite, when they are one. souls can only reach out and touch another soul when they are one. absence of soul and mind turns bodies into stones. into pillars of salt. (we shouldn't have looked back. maybe.)
and thus you were right in your doing. giving back what we were about to lose.
...paleness of skin although you are so dark.
white pearly teeth behind a strained smile.
eyes talking, hiding, masking, unmasking. flattering eyelashes, dying butterflies, escaping my stomach, landing on your eyes. it's been a while. curiosity getting the best of us.
--
unkissed kisses wet the air. I feel exhausted, stressed, something is wrong and I can't tell what it is. Just like in those dreams in which you want to run and feel your legs are heavy as concrete.
Our bodies talking their talks, whispering in the overpowering, overwhelming noisiness around us. they talk and talk, keep talking, yearn, fight, at times grind into each other at others just playfully raise the tension, filling space and distances, turn on, turn off, struggle to suceed - and yet we have thought too much already. the sweetness I feel down there, the tender and oh so soft weakness inside my heart that wants to give in is already mingled with a whiff of bitterness and saddened smiles. I talk to you. explain, come and go, just like the tide, oh, my, I don't know which moon made me go mad like this. going back to those shadows who came with me. who wanted to see you. wanted to protect me. whom i wanted to protect me.
from what? from my own longing? my wish? my desire? from what everybody is dying to hear in that honey sweet moon voice? from love?
desperate maybe but at any rate willing to give it a chance to show, grow, make us spin around and change direction in the middle of the fall we were. repeating the unrepeatable. doing the tabooed, forbidden, tracing our own steps with the desperation of strangers who have met something familiar in the depths of the unknown.
everythings is everything. all is one. we feel how we exit the wholeness of our beings, of the allembracing, allencompassing by emerging into the shaky, freezing sphere of unsatisfied search for the unsearchable. our own longing tears us apart. our failure to understand our common language. our unwillingness to accept the structure of space and time, our refusing to give in to the mystery of our lives. of our encounter, of our touching.
oh when I remember the sweet touch of the southern winds in my hair back in my childhood days. the sung songs about you and my love, my everlasting, all encompassing, neverending love for you, you and you, high up in the tree tops of a magic cherry tree.... tears dwell in my eyes, in my heart, my tongue tastes the salty holy water instead of your lips...
and when I turned around to look for you, to introduce you to mr.asshole you were gone.
gone like the wind who leaves the tender - just about to blossom - apple trees in the gloaming twilight.... and my tears are just morning dew in all its beauty...
-----------------------------
I accept the sun to dry them
Within the millisecond in which I slowly realized your absence I understood that you saved our integrity. you undid the hypocrisy of absent souls in a meaningful moment.
being physically absent was the most genuine thing possible to do. we are not talking about rules, sets of behavior, does and don'ts... souls can only unite, when they are one. souls can only reach out and touch another soul when they are one. absence of soul and mind turns bodies into stones. into pillars of salt. (we shouldn't have looked back. maybe.)
and thus you were right in your doing. giving back what we were about to lose.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
this is what you get when you mix PMS with pre-leaving depressions
First of all I wanted to tell you out there that I won't be around often for the next, lets say, three weeks, as I don't have internet at home anymore and will be busy preparing the big jump into cold LA water.
I will keep reading your posts (you know who you are) and check out stuff as much as I can but don't expect much from my side. I will get back to you (who read my blog sort of regularly) as soon as I am back :)
Secondly I wanted to freak out and scream at anyone who comes near. Today I realized that I was happy about any person who walked on the bikeway just to scream and yell at them "this is a fucking bicycle track, get the fuck out of here!". I felt pleasure doing that. IT felt OH SO GOOD:
I have PMS obviously. The fact that I know it doesn't make it better of course.
Maybe I should start kickboxing or sth like that.
Then I called Mr. Asshole today. I wrote about him several times here already. He is the worst edition of an Afroamerican that you can imagine. He is a coke head of the worst sort. Talking bullshit most of the time, I don't even really understand all he is saying, not for the sake of my bad english but for the sake of his lack of context. I will try to convince him to pay me LOTS for the painting I ll do for him, comparing the money he spends for coke and the money he will spend for real good art....heheehehe. Then, he is the worst sort of swiss-cheese-headed entertainmentbusiness CEO you can imagine. Dropping names is all what this game is about. Lying. Blowing up things for the sake of looking interesting and successful. Shithead. Dropping names again. And YES I DO HAVE a minor percentage in my family that is famous but who GIVES A DAMN FLYNG FUCK, eh? Please please please tell me, dear bloggers from the states who read this, please tell me that in the States it is NOT ALL ABOUT that. Please. Please. I am leaving to LA in September to live there for at least six months and its so fucking scary and sad to think that the majority will actually give a fuck.
How do they say? In German there is this proverb that is an equivalent to the English "Kissing asses". It says: "kreep into sb's ass". Well and this German proverb says further: "if you creep into your bosses ass you will meet many faces that are familiar to you" eeeeeeeh. Maybe half of the American population or lets say, Los Angeles citiyens will be able to have huge meetings in whoevers ass that is popular. eeeeerrg.
So, to get back to the point: He is republican (Oh, and yes, there ARE republicans who can think and have their arguments and stuff, but he belongs to the WORST sort of republicans. He gives a fuck in the first place and in the second he apologizes Bush. Well, you have to know that Bush is a MAN who keeps his word. AAAAAAAAAAAARGH!) So, you ask me, you wonder, WHY THE FUCK I am still in contact with this loser?
I don|t know myself. I simply don't know. I guess I have just a very contradicting stupid personality in a way. I am just too loyal to people who I once decided to be friends with. Or whatever I assume I will get out of it. I have no clue. He will be of no use to me, no use at all never ever. He is incapable of real friendship, not the sort of American friendship that they sell at every Mac Donalds or Starbucks, I mean the German idea of friendship. Just think about that Americans or all English speaking people say : to MAKE friends. How can you MAKE friends? HOW? Make money, make friends, make love?
Then this loser happens to know a person who knows my niece. (drops a name, bling) and goes like: oh i know everything, correct me if i am wrong. I say: Whatever, just say what you like and he goes like : I just say coca cola!!!! and then laughs like crazy. Oh shut the fuck up Mr. Asshole you do not have a clue. Not a single one. You are a, yeah, a loser. You played in the national basketball team of Ireland? Now, how cool is that?...puh. I knew that there were friends of his in the background, from Ireland and the whole time I felt how he was just showing off. Showing OFF because he was talking to ME. yeah. because I happen to be more interesting than the average halfgermanhalfamerican girl just because I have that family. ha, fuck that. fuck that really. I should stop talking to him but for some reason I still like to see him every now and then and have a drink or two and talk bullshit. How little he knows about real frienship for example.
---------------------------------
So see, I am leaving and I am scared. It s going to be a jump into cold water and thats why I take cold showers now every morning. Just in case. Just to get familiar... a bit.
fare thee well, beautiful, chaotic, adorable, crazy, innovative, creative, lunatic berlin
I will keep reading your posts (you know who you are) and check out stuff as much as I can but don't expect much from my side. I will get back to you (who read my blog sort of regularly) as soon as I am back :)
Secondly I wanted to freak out and scream at anyone who comes near. Today I realized that I was happy about any person who walked on the bikeway just to scream and yell at them "this is a fucking bicycle track, get the fuck out of here!". I felt pleasure doing that. IT felt OH SO GOOD:
I have PMS obviously. The fact that I know it doesn't make it better of course.
Maybe I should start kickboxing or sth like that.
Then I called Mr. Asshole today. I wrote about him several times here already. He is the worst edition of an Afroamerican that you can imagine. He is a coke head of the worst sort. Talking bullshit most of the time, I don't even really understand all he is saying, not for the sake of my bad english but for the sake of his lack of context. I will try to convince him to pay me LOTS for the painting I ll do for him, comparing the money he spends for coke and the money he will spend for real good art....heheehehe. Then, he is the worst sort of swiss-cheese-headed entertainmentbusiness CEO you can imagine. Dropping names is all what this game is about. Lying. Blowing up things for the sake of looking interesting and successful. Shithead. Dropping names again. And YES I DO HAVE a minor percentage in my family that is famous but who GIVES A DAMN FLYNG FUCK, eh? Please please please tell me, dear bloggers from the states who read this, please tell me that in the States it is NOT ALL ABOUT that. Please. Please. I am leaving to LA in September to live there for at least six months and its so fucking scary and sad to think that the majority will actually give a fuck.
How do they say? In German there is this proverb that is an equivalent to the English "Kissing asses". It says: "kreep into sb's ass". Well and this German proverb says further: "if you creep into your bosses ass you will meet many faces that are familiar to you" eeeeeeeh. Maybe half of the American population or lets say, Los Angeles citiyens will be able to have huge meetings in whoevers ass that is popular. eeeeerrg.
So, to get back to the point: He is republican (Oh, and yes, there ARE republicans who can think and have their arguments and stuff, but he belongs to the WORST sort of republicans. He gives a fuck in the first place and in the second he apologizes Bush. Well, you have to know that Bush is a MAN who keeps his word. AAAAAAAAAAAARGH!) So, you ask me, you wonder, WHY THE FUCK I am still in contact with this loser?
I don|t know myself. I simply don't know. I guess I have just a very contradicting stupid personality in a way. I am just too loyal to people who I once decided to be friends with. Or whatever I assume I will get out of it. I have no clue. He will be of no use to me, no use at all never ever. He is incapable of real friendship, not the sort of American friendship that they sell at every Mac Donalds or Starbucks, I mean the German idea of friendship. Just think about that Americans or all English speaking people say : to MAKE friends. How can you MAKE friends? HOW? Make money, make friends, make love?
Then this loser happens to know a person who knows my niece. (drops a name, bling) and goes like: oh i know everything, correct me if i am wrong. I say: Whatever, just say what you like and he goes like : I just say coca cola!!!! and then laughs like crazy. Oh shut the fuck up Mr. Asshole you do not have a clue. Not a single one. You are a, yeah, a loser. You played in the national basketball team of Ireland? Now, how cool is that?...puh. I knew that there were friends of his in the background, from Ireland and the whole time I felt how he was just showing off. Showing OFF because he was talking to ME. yeah. because I happen to be more interesting than the average halfgermanhalfamerican girl just because I have that family. ha, fuck that. fuck that really. I should stop talking to him but for some reason I still like to see him every now and then and have a drink or two and talk bullshit. How little he knows about real frienship for example.
---------------------------------
So see, I am leaving and I am scared. It s going to be a jump into cold water and thats why I take cold showers now every morning. Just in case. Just to get familiar... a bit.
fare thee well, beautiful, chaotic, adorable, crazy, innovative, creative, lunatic berlin
Friday, August 19, 2005
negation
'But I feel bad not staying with you. I am the director of the play and I don't want you to waste your whole night on this stuff here...'
'Relax, its just the way I work. See, at Starbucks I work efficiently. You order an Grande-Frappuchino-light-ice-blended-coffee-mocha-coconut-without-whipcream? --- No problem! In two minutes it ll be there, waiting for you at the bar... blabla! But this...this is different, you know, you cannot ask me to do the lights for your play and then expect me to do it the easy way :). You know piranha cannot help but make a piece of art out of everything.... *chuckle* just get the fuck out of here and leave me alone now please okay? I need to play piano first and then sit and think and eat probably and then play piano or curse or whatever and then try to figure out how this fucking lightboardthing works. You are the one who is going to waste her time here....'
She left. Finally. *deep sigh*, finally I am alone. After a very nice dinner with Haik with whom I had a very provocative and inspiring conversation throughout the evening I needed to be by myself. (Haik is the guy/photographer who talked to me in the subway telling me he likes women with - chinn! lol) David couldn't make it to go out dancing. With 30 you obviously have a hard working routine and cannot party like, every weekend. LOL.
I start wondering.
Wondering about how I have failed to meet genuine and real controversion throughout the last year although I have studied together with students from all over the world, liberal arts, thought provoking stuff.
I needed to meet this guy who has diametrically different opinions than I do to understand that I am as stuck as the rest of the world. Amazing. The readiness to change opinions is very low. People talk to each other but basically only convey their standpoint, listening to the other only for the sake of finding the weak points in his or her worldview or argument but not to really understand them. Dammit, thats so fucking tricky. I don't want that really.
Wondering about this wonderful story SAR wrote on her blog. Its a beautiful one and suddenly I wound up thinking about it in relation to my current situation.
Negation. The 'earth's mistress' (how the main character is called amongst other names people, cultures, countries have given her throughout history) negates her love in the end in order to preserve the earth, love, life: (directly quoted from Sar's blog!)
"I did the craziest thing a woman could do... On the one man who filled my soul to its entirety with so much love night after night, I spoke against him the word of wrath. On the same man who whenever I reached for his hand I always found, I uttered against him the cry of guilt…“Take him away.” I said softly to those who ate no offerings and drank no libations, who accepted no gifts. And they did."
See, I was in a huge predicament these days. I knew that David wanted to go out with me and I knew that I would have been open for anything, despite all my talking about how I would not interfere, by no means!, in a relationship and mess up my karma by making love to a guy who is in a serious relationship. I knew that I wanted to. I wanted to take this with me to Los Angeles, at least, as a gift for myself.
But yeah, in a way that sounds almost as pathetic as buying a xmas present for myself. However, thats not the point here. The point is negation
What, if I negate this feeling, this urge to express the love we felt.
What if I sacrifice my desire and burning love?
would it do any good?
whose world, which world, life, love would it save/preserve?
Can negating love open ways for another, yet bigger, all encompassing love to come? Would it make me stronger? Would it make me capable of loving even in a deeper and more exciting way than before?
I don't know. But I have this strange feeling that I have to listen to this voice within now.
N E G A T E
And you will be given
'Relax, its just the way I work. See, at Starbucks I work efficiently. You order an Grande-Frappuchino-light-ice-blended-coffee-mocha-coconut-without-whipcream? --- No problem! In two minutes it ll be there, waiting for you at the bar... blabla! But this...this is different, you know, you cannot ask me to do the lights for your play and then expect me to do it the easy way :). You know piranha cannot help but make a piece of art out of everything.... *chuckle* just get the fuck out of here and leave me alone now please okay? I need to play piano first and then sit and think and eat probably and then play piano or curse or whatever and then try to figure out how this fucking lightboardthing works. You are the one who is going to waste her time here....'
She left. Finally. *deep sigh*, finally I am alone. After a very nice dinner with Haik with whom I had a very provocative and inspiring conversation throughout the evening I needed to be by myself. (Haik is the guy/photographer who talked to me in the subway telling me he likes women with - chinn! lol) David couldn't make it to go out dancing. With 30 you obviously have a hard working routine and cannot party like, every weekend. LOL.
I start wondering.
Wondering about how I have failed to meet genuine and real controversion throughout the last year although I have studied together with students from all over the world, liberal arts, thought provoking stuff.
I needed to meet this guy who has diametrically different opinions than I do to understand that I am as stuck as the rest of the world. Amazing. The readiness to change opinions is very low. People talk to each other but basically only convey their standpoint, listening to the other only for the sake of finding the weak points in his or her worldview or argument but not to really understand them. Dammit, thats so fucking tricky. I don't want that really.
Wondering about this wonderful story SAR wrote on her blog. Its a beautiful one and suddenly I wound up thinking about it in relation to my current situation.
Negation. The 'earth's mistress' (how the main character is called amongst other names people, cultures, countries have given her throughout history) negates her love in the end in order to preserve the earth, love, life: (directly quoted from Sar's blog!)
"I did the craziest thing a woman could do... On the one man who filled my soul to its entirety with so much love night after night, I spoke against him the word of wrath. On the same man who whenever I reached for his hand I always found, I uttered against him the cry of guilt…“Take him away.” I said softly to those who ate no offerings and drank no libations, who accepted no gifts. And they did."
See, I was in a huge predicament these days. I knew that David wanted to go out with me and I knew that I would have been open for anything, despite all my talking about how I would not interfere, by no means!, in a relationship and mess up my karma by making love to a guy who is in a serious relationship. I knew that I wanted to. I wanted to take this with me to Los Angeles, at least, as a gift for myself.
But yeah, in a way that sounds almost as pathetic as buying a xmas present for myself. However, thats not the point here. The point is negation
What, if I negate this feeling, this urge to express the love we felt.
What if I sacrifice my desire and burning love?
would it do any good?
whose world, which world, life, love would it save/preserve?
Can negating love open ways for another, yet bigger, all encompassing love to come? Would it make me stronger? Would it make me capable of loving even in a deeper and more exciting way than before?
I don't know. But I have this strange feeling that I have to listen to this voice within now.
N E G A T E
And you will be given
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
zimbabwe
there is no particular reason to title this post zimbabwe, i just felt like it.
don't be mislead out there, its not about Zimbabwe, not about how fucked up Mugabe is and how fucked up it was to destruct the slums at the outskirts of Harare or about the desaster of the government not facing the fact of two thirds of the population being infected with HIV. No, it s about a former travel agent from there who made his way to London and later to Berlin, heading to be a fitness coach soon, totally emerging into the world of fitness in which only the sky is the limit....or so ;)
His name is, surprise surprise, David.
well, what should I say. Those who have read my blog for a while know a bit of the emotional turmoil he caused me and how much I have longed to see him again just to be able to put things into perspective.
and how much pain and sleepless blogging nights it caused me that he didn t seem to be capable of just meeting me a second time.
today we met. finally. imagine: Piranha, working at the Evil Empire (read: Starbucks), acting as if she drank like ten liters of coffee. Then he asks whether they can meet but the time that fits him would make it impossible for her to go home first to change clothes and stuff. Put make up on for example... lol.
So piranha wounds up in H&M, shopping clothes. OMG, I still laugh at me because of that. Jesus. (Its not that I had the money. BUt I never go shopping and so at leats he has a good influence on my wardrobe ;-)) It makes her feel better though. Lots. Really.
No make up is better anyways, more herself in a way. So thats all good. But dropping by a parfume shop isnt a wrong thing to do :)) oh, smelling good makes you feel soooo much better, I feel you ladies!!!
They meet, both obviously nervous but dealing with it in a good way. Sit down for a drink. Talk about god and the world. Avoid touching each other or flirting. Just digging their way towards the real topic, that is THEM, the encounter they had that hit both hard, so to say, between the eyes. He looks less good than fearfully expected. He looks GREAT though :)
He is self contained. She is more open than she thought she would be but feelings are definetly under control. It was so different from what she had imagined, had feared, anticipated, assumed. Its amazing how two people who have felt something so deep and magical and disturbing as they did, can talk about this very thing in such a reasonable and unexcited manner. But honest, not faking.
Not faking, did you get that? That was really important for me. I think I didn't lie once. In no respect.
He is really living his life, he is intelligent, reasonable, but heartfelt, as well. He combines spirit with awareness of the necessities of his body, his life, his emotions. He gave me 25 years, as the youngest he could imagine. haha. is that a compliment?
he was being honest, as far as I could tell, and he was being reasonable and today I don't think it is a bad thing. At times you have to be. And this special encounter we had shows that this guy is capable of letting things happen, as well. If you ask me, thats a good thing. Our rules, structures and moral standars are guidelines for living in this society we are living in. But they are not meant to restrict life and love to come into being, right? But too often they do. I am happy he didn't let this happen to us. We had our moment. (and thats what counts in the end, right?)
I feel so relaxed, quiet and happy now. It put things into perspective for me and thats what I was hoping for. It didnt destroy what was there and it didn t make it worse for me. I know now that he is not the guy I have to fight for and he will leave me room and space and support to move on on my way. He is full of understanding, appreciation and stillness. And he asked me whether I d like to go out dancing with him this friday. My, I really think thats a brilliant idea. It s the way it should go and I think we both are open and curious as to where this next meeting will take us. Energeticwise I mean. And there definetely needs to be a third meeting. Because three is my number anyways :)))
So this open ending leaves my heart beating and jumping in a beautiful rythm, it s so good to have rythm for your lifesong. and gosh, am I grateful for everything right now. Thank you god, goddess, ... whoever. Thank You.
Piranha
ps this post has no real ending in way because this is just an interim report :)
don't be mislead out there, its not about Zimbabwe, not about how fucked up Mugabe is and how fucked up it was to destruct the slums at the outskirts of Harare or about the desaster of the government not facing the fact of two thirds of the population being infected with HIV. No, it s about a former travel agent from there who made his way to London and later to Berlin, heading to be a fitness coach soon, totally emerging into the world of fitness in which only the sky is the limit....or so ;)
His name is, surprise surprise, David.
well, what should I say. Those who have read my blog for a while know a bit of the emotional turmoil he caused me and how much I have longed to see him again just to be able to put things into perspective.
and how much pain and sleepless blogging nights it caused me that he didn t seem to be capable of just meeting me a second time.
today we met. finally. imagine: Piranha, working at the Evil Empire (read: Starbucks), acting as if she drank like ten liters of coffee. Then he asks whether they can meet but the time that fits him would make it impossible for her to go home first to change clothes and stuff. Put make up on for example... lol.
So piranha wounds up in H&M, shopping clothes. OMG, I still laugh at me because of that. Jesus. (Its not that I had the money. BUt I never go shopping and so at leats he has a good influence on my wardrobe ;-)) It makes her feel better though. Lots. Really.
No make up is better anyways, more herself in a way. So thats all good. But dropping by a parfume shop isnt a wrong thing to do :)) oh, smelling good makes you feel soooo much better, I feel you ladies!!!
They meet, both obviously nervous but dealing with it in a good way. Sit down for a drink. Talk about god and the world. Avoid touching each other or flirting. Just digging their way towards the real topic, that is THEM, the encounter they had that hit both hard, so to say, between the eyes. He looks less good than fearfully expected. He looks GREAT though :)
He is self contained. She is more open than she thought she would be but feelings are definetly under control. It was so different from what she had imagined, had feared, anticipated, assumed. Its amazing how two people who have felt something so deep and magical and disturbing as they did, can talk about this very thing in such a reasonable and unexcited manner. But honest, not faking.
Not faking, did you get that? That was really important for me. I think I didn't lie once. In no respect.
He is really living his life, he is intelligent, reasonable, but heartfelt, as well. He combines spirit with awareness of the necessities of his body, his life, his emotions. He gave me 25 years, as the youngest he could imagine. haha. is that a compliment?
he was being honest, as far as I could tell, and he was being reasonable and today I don't think it is a bad thing. At times you have to be. And this special encounter we had shows that this guy is capable of letting things happen, as well. If you ask me, thats a good thing. Our rules, structures and moral standars are guidelines for living in this society we are living in. But they are not meant to restrict life and love to come into being, right? But too often they do. I am happy he didn't let this happen to us. We had our moment. (and thats what counts in the end, right?)
I feel so relaxed, quiet and happy now. It put things into perspective for me and thats what I was hoping for. It didnt destroy what was there and it didn t make it worse for me. I know now that he is not the guy I have to fight for and he will leave me room and space and support to move on on my way. He is full of understanding, appreciation and stillness. And he asked me whether I d like to go out dancing with him this friday. My, I really think thats a brilliant idea. It s the way it should go and I think we both are open and curious as to where this next meeting will take us. Energeticwise I mean. And there definetely needs to be a third meeting. Because three is my number anyways :)))
So this open ending leaves my heart beating and jumping in a beautiful rythm, it s so good to have rythm for your lifesong. and gosh, am I grateful for everything right now. Thank you god, goddess, ... whoever. Thank You.
Piranha
ps this post has no real ending in way because this is just an interim report :)
Sunday, August 14, 2005
either you are or you are not
either you are sexy or you are not he said. you don t ask sexy people what their name is, where they come from, how old they are, what they do in life. yeah. they either are or arent sexy, as simple as that. and sexy people are....sexy.
:)
so am I sexy, hm? I asked, smirking, chuckling about his enthusiasm. Maybe he was on E. But still, am I sexy then?
Hm. He said. Yeah, youare quite sexy. quite allright. if you switched your brain off you d probably totally freak out and give it all, would you!?
I gave his friend, on whom I had a crush, a long hard look. I wanted him so badly. I was so jealous of my very good friend Milla, who is so obviously and breathtakingly beautiful and so attention gathering that I felt I shouldn t compete with her. He had all eyes for her I thought. He did. And I, again, had started the thing from the wrong side. From the intellectual side. Everybody knows that the way from your head to your hands it the longest one, usually. So why the fuck did i talk to the guy who I so badly wanted to touch ??? Because I want to have the cake and eat it too. I want to know the person and the body. And the sex and his mind.
Yes I would.Freak out. But, please, I have had my fair share of that. Been there, done that... I would like to reconciliate brain and body and heart now. you know. I wish I would find the man I can show all of my sides and let him walk on those bridges.... I wish I did.
when his hands were all over my body I wondered whether it would make any major difference if this was A. or I. I don t know. Still don t konw. I knew that it didn t matter for him who I was. At least one certainty. But that didn t matter here, the moment counted, the chemistry. But I couldn t switch my brain off. The problem is, you CAN probably have ANYONE you want to, if you really really want it. 100%. I think I just wanted to want him...He was smart, good looking, sexy, interesting... what do you want more (yeah yeah, heart, I know you want D. but thats not the fucking point here, eh???)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The next day the sun was shining. It s been a while since sunrays kissed my skin... Contrary to my intuition I messaged him a short text while I was attending this incredibly boring and unneccessarily long Starbucks schooling session... Fuck that.. The text message was one of that stupid kind, blabla, look forward to seeing you again. The echos of his hands were still ebbing out inside my thirsty skin...Thats why...thats why...
When I called Milla I asked her how she was doing. It was her birthday. Her voice alerted me.
´'Whats wrong, dear?´I asked. I knew it already. She said she felt so ashamed.
´Of what, take it easy´
´well, this guy yesterday....was it ... just for ... I mean, did you mess with him just for fun?..´
You and I know what had happened.
`Oh of course, that was nothing... you know I am all into D. still....fucked up ain´t it...´
(Milla, haven t you seen how stupidly I was hitting on him yesterday the whole night? Didn t you realize how sad I was that I am always interested in the wrong guys and that I cannot flirt with those I am interested in and that they all fall for you because you are so fucked up beautiful??? And showing off all the time? (this had to be said here. She does show off and it s very charming and annoying in the same time. I use to say she is an artist and she needs that... )
´well...I .... hm..... and then I slept over at his place´
´haha, oh my god, Milla´(I am such a fucking good actress. and it s even the more amusing to think that I actually told my other friend to watch out over her when I left to go home....obviously she didn t do a good job, alas....but that was very fortunate for Milla. And yes, I do want her to be happy and balanced out on her birthday. But man, she has a boyfriend. Aaargh. 'A nice one...) ´was it at least good? That is, was he good???´
Curious I was. In a way it isn t that bad to get some information beforehand.
´oh yes, sure it was, I mean...I can t tell you everything here on the phone (yes, women do share details from time to time but I sometimes prefer not to...) but yeah it was nice and good to be holden you know...but it was kind of ... SHORT´
(Great, hehehehe! But who knows, maybe its your fault. This guy IS fucking dangerous and mean. Playing the innocent shy guy, oh so held back and stuff and then he is just your average geek who is going to a club in order to get laid. I mean, we all do, but hey, if so, lets do it with some style. And ahm, lets do it right, right???)
´short, so so....(chuckles)... Milla, relax and have a nice day.´
´He told me he d call me tonight although I first didn t want to see him again´
´he is hot, no doubts´
poor Milla. Guys hit so easily on her but they drop her as quickly as they hit on her. IT s sad.
(I do have sad stories though, too, and I don t have her looks!)
I hung up and suddenly I felt so disgusted by the thought that if she hadn´t told me I maybe would have gone down all the way with him, and ladies and gentlemen, nothing is more disgusting than the thought that not long ago this guy was inside a very good friend of yours. Its simply...wrong, somehow. You don t fuck with friends.
And what, if I had fallen for him? What, if she just broke my heart now? I know, it s pointless to ask these questions but still. Her birthday is not a free ride to dance on my soul, right? At least she felt ashamed. It s not really fair still. Is it...
:)
so am I sexy, hm? I asked, smirking, chuckling about his enthusiasm. Maybe he was on E. But still, am I sexy then?
Hm. He said. Yeah, youare quite sexy. quite allright. if you switched your brain off you d probably totally freak out and give it all, would you!?
I gave his friend, on whom I had a crush, a long hard look. I wanted him so badly. I was so jealous of my very good friend Milla, who is so obviously and breathtakingly beautiful and so attention gathering that I felt I shouldn t compete with her. He had all eyes for her I thought. He did. And I, again, had started the thing from the wrong side. From the intellectual side. Everybody knows that the way from your head to your hands it the longest one, usually. So why the fuck did i talk to the guy who I so badly wanted to touch ??? Because I want to have the cake and eat it too. I want to know the person and the body. And the sex and his mind.
Yes I would.Freak out. But, please, I have had my fair share of that. Been there, done that... I would like to reconciliate brain and body and heart now. you know. I wish I would find the man I can show all of my sides and let him walk on those bridges.... I wish I did.
when his hands were all over my body I wondered whether it would make any major difference if this was A. or I. I don t know. Still don t konw. I knew that it didn t matter for him who I was. At least one certainty. But that didn t matter here, the moment counted, the chemistry. But I couldn t switch my brain off. The problem is, you CAN probably have ANYONE you want to, if you really really want it. 100%. I think I just wanted to want him...He was smart, good looking, sexy, interesting... what do you want more (yeah yeah, heart, I know you want D. but thats not the fucking point here, eh???)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The next day the sun was shining. It s been a while since sunrays kissed my skin... Contrary to my intuition I messaged him a short text while I was attending this incredibly boring and unneccessarily long Starbucks schooling session... Fuck that.. The text message was one of that stupid kind, blabla, look forward to seeing you again. The echos of his hands were still ebbing out inside my thirsty skin...Thats why...thats why...
When I called Milla I asked her how she was doing. It was her birthday. Her voice alerted me.
´'Whats wrong, dear?´I asked. I knew it already. She said she felt so ashamed.
´Of what, take it easy´
´well, this guy yesterday....was it ... just for ... I mean, did you mess with him just for fun?..´
You and I know what had happened.
`Oh of course, that was nothing... you know I am all into D. still....fucked up ain´t it...´
(Milla, haven t you seen how stupidly I was hitting on him yesterday the whole night? Didn t you realize how sad I was that I am always interested in the wrong guys and that I cannot flirt with those I am interested in and that they all fall for you because you are so fucked up beautiful??? And showing off all the time? (this had to be said here. She does show off and it s very charming and annoying in the same time. I use to say she is an artist and she needs that... )
´well...I .... hm..... and then I slept over at his place´
´haha, oh my god, Milla´(I am such a fucking good actress. and it s even the more amusing to think that I actually told my other friend to watch out over her when I left to go home....obviously she didn t do a good job, alas....but that was very fortunate for Milla. And yes, I do want her to be happy and balanced out on her birthday. But man, she has a boyfriend. Aaargh. 'A nice one...) ´was it at least good? That is, was he good???´
Curious I was. In a way it isn t that bad to get some information beforehand.
´oh yes, sure it was, I mean...I can t tell you everything here on the phone (yes, women do share details from time to time but I sometimes prefer not to...) but yeah it was nice and good to be holden you know...but it was kind of ... SHORT´
(Great, hehehehe! But who knows, maybe its your fault. This guy IS fucking dangerous and mean. Playing the innocent shy guy, oh so held back and stuff and then he is just your average geek who is going to a club in order to get laid. I mean, we all do, but hey, if so, lets do it with some style. And ahm, lets do it right, right???)
´short, so so....(chuckles)... Milla, relax and have a nice day.´
´He told me he d call me tonight although I first didn t want to see him again´
´he is hot, no doubts´
poor Milla. Guys hit so easily on her but they drop her as quickly as they hit on her. IT s sad.
(I do have sad stories though, too, and I don t have her looks!)
I hung up and suddenly I felt so disgusted by the thought that if she hadn´t told me I maybe would have gone down all the way with him, and ladies and gentlemen, nothing is more disgusting than the thought that not long ago this guy was inside a very good friend of yours. Its simply...wrong, somehow. You don t fuck with friends.
And what, if I had fallen for him? What, if she just broke my heart now? I know, it s pointless to ask these questions but still. Her birthday is not a free ride to dance on my soul, right? At least she felt ashamed. It s not really fair still. Is it...
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
moving and cycles of life
Funny thing, moving. You want to work effectivley, fast, steady and yet find yourself in the middle of the night sitting inbetween cardboard boxes, reading stuff you wrote once, long long time ago, reminiscing the old good and bad times.
And you find that life has a funny way of circeling in spirals. Well, I really hope they were spirals and not circles, really. It d be so horrible to find out that you ve been spending the last years dealing with all the very same problems over and over again just in different editions.
I am sure you all know that kind of akward situation. And it is great fun, horror, and time consuming of course. Damn. Besides that it is great to be in my hometown for two days. I ll be back to Berlin soon but it is so peaceful here. Introspectre, you should come and visit if you need quietness. It is unbelievable. I didn t know Berlin is that noisy. the weather is so beautiful here, the people smile and actually greet on the streets and it s so magically quiet. Some birds, here and there a laughter, a shouthing...wow. But there is only one or two bars open longer than 11 PM ;-)
I found the following piece of writing in my boxes and thought I might share it on here. And D. wrote back by the way and I promise not to write about him until next tuesday. Promise!!!
I wrote this in 2003 when I was into Mr. Asshole. Yeah, and for me thats a LONG time ago. Trust me, in this age one or two years matter so much....but....ahm... see, it is scary to see that I knew so well what was up already back then but still continued messing around with him. wow
"(...) He asks me whether I do miss him. Do I miss him? I miss HIM and HER, I miss the mystical and magical aspects of my life. But do I miss him? I ran away from C. Why should I rest with Mr. Asshole now? And, overa ll, what the heck am I doing here? I should consider my future, my future being and doing. Not only love affairs. That sucks ! (hahaha) (yeah, did it change? hmmm) Godd friends might be even more important. He knows that. He is too lucky and rich. He should stop for a moment to find out what truly matters. It is strange to think of me as his girlfriend. I ve never been before someones girlfriend actually. P. wasn t sure about it, we never really were oficially together... I am too young. and...I don t know. It is about sex, of course, but then also about fun and magical moments to be shared. Mr. Asshole, Are YOU gonna miss me?
His body is my grave. I am melting away. but still he is neither the right one or one of the right ones. I deserve a man who really cares and who is genuinly happy to know, see and meet me. Who is full of surprises and who tries hard to get to know me and to get to know how he can please me.
(...)"
Yah. I knew it. Already then. Now, how depressing is that???
And you find that life has a funny way of circeling in spirals. Well, I really hope they were spirals and not circles, really. It d be so horrible to find out that you ve been spending the last years dealing with all the very same problems over and over again just in different editions.
I am sure you all know that kind of akward situation. And it is great fun, horror, and time consuming of course. Damn. Besides that it is great to be in my hometown for two days. I ll be back to Berlin soon but it is so peaceful here. Introspectre, you should come and visit if you need quietness. It is unbelievable. I didn t know Berlin is that noisy. the weather is so beautiful here, the people smile and actually greet on the streets and it s so magically quiet. Some birds, here and there a laughter, a shouthing...wow. But there is only one or two bars open longer than 11 PM ;-)
I found the following piece of writing in my boxes and thought I might share it on here. And D. wrote back by the way and I promise not to write about him until next tuesday. Promise!!!
I wrote this in 2003 when I was into Mr. Asshole. Yeah, and for me thats a LONG time ago. Trust me, in this age one or two years matter so much....but....ahm... see, it is scary to see that I knew so well what was up already back then but still continued messing around with him. wow
"(...) He asks me whether I do miss him. Do I miss him? I miss HIM and HER, I miss the mystical and magical aspects of my life. But do I miss him? I ran away from C. Why should I rest with Mr. Asshole now? And, overa ll, what the heck am I doing here? I should consider my future, my future being and doing. Not only love affairs. That sucks ! (hahaha) (yeah, did it change? hmmm) Godd friends might be even more important. He knows that. He is too lucky and rich. He should stop for a moment to find out what truly matters. It is strange to think of me as his girlfriend. I ve never been before someones girlfriend actually. P. wasn t sure about it, we never really were oficially together... I am too young. and...I don t know. It is about sex, of course, but then also about fun and magical moments to be shared. Mr. Asshole, Are YOU gonna miss me?
His body is my grave. I am melting away. but still he is neither the right one or one of the right ones. I deserve a man who really cares and who is genuinly happy to know, see and meet me. Who is full of surprises and who tries hard to get to know me and to get to know how he can please me.
(...)"
Yah. I knew it. Already then. Now, how depressing is that???
Friday, August 05, 2005
I just did it
I just did it and wrote him again. QUickly, quickly pressed the to send button and whooooooooops, there it goes, unretrievabla, the mail rushing through the hot venes of the internet, reaching its destiny and I never ever can make this not happen.
I thought, after my accident just now, that life is too short for waiting for too long. What if I fucking die tomorrow, there might be more idiots like me outthere in the traffic. Or who knows what else could happen. Maybe I stick my finger in an power outlet and die. What the fuck.
And yeah, although I really really would love to do the crazy movie type sort of thing which I had planned to do tonight (which was printing out 100 or 200 of copies of a poster of my painting for him with something written on it so he would understand and place them everywhere in the subway he has to take to get to his district and also everywhere in his district and then see what happens) I thought fuck it and just wrote following email, I mean, what the heck. I bumped into a car thinking of him and waited in the rain for two hours for the fucking cops to come, there is no point in spending even more time for him tonight. I am going to a salsa club now, but god only know how, because I am still under shock and don't dare to drive my bike no more.
so here is the mail finally, please let me know what you think about it. is it stupid? okay? whatever?
They say love makes you do all sorts of crazy things. I d do really really crazy things if I stayed here for longer but in fact I feel that I am running out of time thats why I make a fool out of myself contacting you again.
The point is, I would like to take your silence as a clear sign in itself, but as much as my reason wants to do this my heart runs amok and throws every little bit of hope into the arena and wants me to do these crazy things. Well well. Love and hope would find no investors, really, if they were enterprises. The past has proven too many times that they are fickle and unreliabla and often a failure. But hearts don't care, hope never dies and thats why I can't take your silence as a clear sign as I maybe should. I don't understand you because I don't know you and you are a guy. As far as I have understood myself I realize that there is a fight going on between reason and foolish heart energy and I simply simply cannot forget you. It s so horrible. It s already five weeks ago, and okay, it s maybe not long compared to a lifetime but boy, it s an experience for my little self. It s not that I cannot take it, I have loved someone over the course of five years who couldn't return the love and I survived and was able to take it, I mentioned it in an earlier mail.
IT s just that I think that I DESERVE a response, a respectful treatment, because there are always two involved and you have some responsibility here, unfortunately. I am sorry for bothering you if I do. Really, but I have to insist on a respectful treatment. Whcih includes letting me know whats on your mind and why you don't see/call me although you said I can bet you want to do that. When you said I can bet I actually knew that it wasn't going to happen but also then my heart wouldn't let me kill you in my mind. I am sure you have your reasons and I respect them even though I don't know them. Really.
So what I am asking for are two things. Please, do me a favor. WRite me or call me and tell me that we are NOT going to see each other again and that you don't want to and it s the best and we still have a nice magic memory and can preserve that. I need that for my sanity. Or see me. But if so, not with much talking and bullshit but showing some action. I still would prefer seeing you. of course.
The other thing is actually not asking for a favor. I would love to give you something. The question is how I can give it to you. I could store it in some cafe in eberswalder maybe and you can go and get it there.. . My dad told me once that artwork sometimes can be like a child. He said this in a response to my wish to having children and I totally got his point. Now, if this is true, we have a baby. You inspired it and I gave birth to it and I would love to give it to you as a present because it is a beautiful little baby and it d be good for me to give it away and it might be, if you allow it to be, special for you, too. It s always good to have something that reminds us of incidents in our lives and to wake us up from our daily routines. Who knows, what this painting would do for you but I know that I would love to give it to you before I leave to Los Angeles. Me leaving for a year is by the way a major reason why I am not trying to get you out of your patchy relationship. This, and my respect for relationships and your integrity and hers. You have loved her and probably still do and it s great that this is possible.and it s good to dig deeper.
piranha
I thought, after my accident just now, that life is too short for waiting for too long. What if I fucking die tomorrow, there might be more idiots like me outthere in the traffic. Or who knows what else could happen. Maybe I stick my finger in an power outlet and die. What the fuck.
And yeah, although I really really would love to do the crazy movie type sort of thing which I had planned to do tonight (which was printing out 100 or 200 of copies of a poster of my painting for him with something written on it so he would understand and place them everywhere in the subway he has to take to get to his district and also everywhere in his district and then see what happens) I thought fuck it and just wrote following email, I mean, what the heck. I bumped into a car thinking of him and waited in the rain for two hours for the fucking cops to come, there is no point in spending even more time for him tonight. I am going to a salsa club now, but god only know how, because I am still under shock and don't dare to drive my bike no more.
so here is the mail finally, please let me know what you think about it. is it stupid? okay? whatever?
They say love makes you do all sorts of crazy things. I d do really really crazy things if I stayed here for longer but in fact I feel that I am running out of time thats why I make a fool out of myself contacting you again.
The point is, I would like to take your silence as a clear sign in itself, but as much as my reason wants to do this my heart runs amok and throws every little bit of hope into the arena and wants me to do these crazy things. Well well. Love and hope would find no investors, really, if they were enterprises. The past has proven too many times that they are fickle and unreliabla and often a failure. But hearts don't care, hope never dies and thats why I can't take your silence as a clear sign as I maybe should. I don't understand you because I don't know you and you are a guy. As far as I have understood myself I realize that there is a fight going on between reason and foolish heart energy and I simply simply cannot forget you. It s so horrible. It s already five weeks ago, and okay, it s maybe not long compared to a lifetime but boy, it s an experience for my little self. It s not that I cannot take it, I have loved someone over the course of five years who couldn't return the love and I survived and was able to take it, I mentioned it in an earlier mail.
IT s just that I think that I DESERVE a response, a respectful treatment, because there are always two involved and you have some responsibility here, unfortunately. I am sorry for bothering you if I do. Really, but I have to insist on a respectful treatment. Whcih includes letting me know whats on your mind and why you don't see/call me although you said I can bet you want to do that. When you said I can bet I actually knew that it wasn't going to happen but also then my heart wouldn't let me kill you in my mind. I am sure you have your reasons and I respect them even though I don't know them. Really.
So what I am asking for are two things. Please, do me a favor. WRite me or call me and tell me that we are NOT going to see each other again and that you don't want to and it s the best and we still have a nice magic memory and can preserve that. I need that for my sanity. Or see me. But if so, not with much talking and bullshit but showing some action. I still would prefer seeing you. of course.
The other thing is actually not asking for a favor. I would love to give you something. The question is how I can give it to you. I could store it in some cafe in eberswalder maybe and you can go and get it there.. . My dad told me once that artwork sometimes can be like a child. He said this in a response to my wish to having children and I totally got his point. Now, if this is true, we have a baby. You inspired it and I gave birth to it and I would love to give it to you as a present because it is a beautiful little baby and it d be good for me to give it away and it might be, if you allow it to be, special for you, too. It s always good to have something that reminds us of incidents in our lives and to wake us up from our daily routines. Who knows, what this painting would do for you but I know that I would love to give it to you before I leave to Los Angeles. Me leaving for a year is by the way a major reason why I am not trying to get you out of your patchy relationship. This, and my respect for relationships and your integrity and hers. You have loved her and probably still do and it s great that this is possible.and it s good to dig deeper.
piranha
even worse. may i introduce a complete idiot to you?
here we go. I had the feeling sth special will happen today. The sun was shining in the morning, a good sign already.
indeed, special it was.
I waited two hours for the cops. It was 10 something PM when it happened. I just came back from work. we waited until midnight. In the rain. Remeber? The sun led me astray. The special incident that I felt was coming up was a bad one. Another accident. My fault. No lights on the bike, driving on the sidewalk, over redlight. WEll, I tried to catch the green thats why i was so fast. But I hit the car. Luckily the bike didn't get harmed. It s a very expensive bike. From a friend's sister. Yeah. And the guy's car was in fact his mother in law's car. Yeah. That's why he insisted on calling the cops. Because, hey, whom can you trust in this crazy fucked up society, eh? Especially when you are 33 and have been fooled more than once.
I guess I am a really rare species on this planet. The dumb, trusting, naive girl I am. *sobs*. Oh, boy. I tried to keep the tears back as good as I could. Suddenly I felt how the cold cool waves ebbed in and I retreated in my shell and was totally icy cool outside. That happened to me already a couple of times whenever sth horrible happened. I think then immediately: well, Piranha, you didn't deserve it better. Thats what happens when you are such a fool who is not down to earth no more. What are all those fancy luxury feelings and thoughts about David anyhow. You are circeling around yourself all the time like flies around horseshit. Come on, thats the reality you are living in! Red and Green TRAFFIC LIGHTS! and lights for BIKES, dammit, you fucking hate those bikers when you are driving cars! man, you are the one you curse out usually! you are the one you hate! So here is what you get"! Its called KARMA baby, and it comes around and round!.
Whee.
As we were shivering and waiting we got to know each other a little. How funny to meet a person I wouldn't ever ever never ever have met otherwise. He was kind of cool, but I was so reserved, as opposed to usual, but I was really busy keeping myself together, fighting tears, a heavy heart, as heavy as concrete bullshit, and selfhating tirades....
The cops finally came, and fuck, they also just took my address. Man, we waited two hours just because you cannot possibly believe anybody in a huge city no more. FUck that!
It made me recall all the accidents I already had in my life and I decided that I am a walking mess, a fucked up idiot, a endangerment for the world and yes, this is the wrong, the fucking wrong world I am living in. Oh man. It s all too much for me. All those feelings and thoughts and machines and things in this world. Wow. It s so absurd, SO ABSURD. and i am an idiot. totally.
I see all my money dwindle down for this dent in his mother in law's car. fuck. I am saving for my ticket to LA!. Dammit.
When I finally went home I started sobbing like an idiot. I sobbed and sobbed and the rain hid my tears pretty well. Thanks rain. Thanks. I understood my mom who cried so hard whenever she had an accident and I understand her so well, oh yeah. its like hitting the ground very very hard when you were actually somewhere else in your mind.
Oh david, you fucking spooky ghost, leave me alone. What can I do. I am in love and I don't know the person I am associating with this love. Its so -.idiotic. Idiocy. yeah. my life.
This is too much now. this is even worse. I have to get reasonable get everything done what I need to get done and forget about all my dreamy fucked up romantic and tragic feelings. fuck that fuck that fuck that fuck that Piranha. fuck that. simply. fuck it. rah!
and my next post will be about all the accidents I ever had in my life, and ladies and gentlemen, for being 22 there were too many to be true.
indeed, special it was.
I waited two hours for the cops. It was 10 something PM when it happened. I just came back from work. we waited until midnight. In the rain. Remeber? The sun led me astray. The special incident that I felt was coming up was a bad one. Another accident. My fault. No lights on the bike, driving on the sidewalk, over redlight. WEll, I tried to catch the green thats why i was so fast. But I hit the car. Luckily the bike didn't get harmed. It s a very expensive bike. From a friend's sister. Yeah. And the guy's car was in fact his mother in law's car. Yeah. That's why he insisted on calling the cops. Because, hey, whom can you trust in this crazy fucked up society, eh? Especially when you are 33 and have been fooled more than once.
I guess I am a really rare species on this planet. The dumb, trusting, naive girl I am. *sobs*. Oh, boy. I tried to keep the tears back as good as I could. Suddenly I felt how the cold cool waves ebbed in and I retreated in my shell and was totally icy cool outside. That happened to me already a couple of times whenever sth horrible happened. I think then immediately: well, Piranha, you didn't deserve it better. Thats what happens when you are such a fool who is not down to earth no more. What are all those fancy luxury feelings and thoughts about David anyhow. You are circeling around yourself all the time like flies around horseshit. Come on, thats the reality you are living in! Red and Green TRAFFIC LIGHTS! and lights for BIKES, dammit, you fucking hate those bikers when you are driving cars! man, you are the one you curse out usually! you are the one you hate! So here is what you get"! Its called KARMA baby, and it comes around and round!.
Whee.
As we were shivering and waiting we got to know each other a little. How funny to meet a person I wouldn't ever ever never ever have met otherwise. He was kind of cool, but I was so reserved, as opposed to usual, but I was really busy keeping myself together, fighting tears, a heavy heart, as heavy as concrete bullshit, and selfhating tirades....
The cops finally came, and fuck, they also just took my address. Man, we waited two hours just because you cannot possibly believe anybody in a huge city no more. FUck that!
It made me recall all the accidents I already had in my life and I decided that I am a walking mess, a fucked up idiot, a endangerment for the world and yes, this is the wrong, the fucking wrong world I am living in. Oh man. It s all too much for me. All those feelings and thoughts and machines and things in this world. Wow. It s so absurd, SO ABSURD. and i am an idiot. totally.
I see all my money dwindle down for this dent in his mother in law's car. fuck. I am saving for my ticket to LA!. Dammit.
When I finally went home I started sobbing like an idiot. I sobbed and sobbed and the rain hid my tears pretty well. Thanks rain. Thanks. I understood my mom who cried so hard whenever she had an accident and I understand her so well, oh yeah. its like hitting the ground very very hard when you were actually somewhere else in your mind.
Oh david, you fucking spooky ghost, leave me alone. What can I do. I am in love and I don't know the person I am associating with this love. Its so -.idiotic. Idiocy. yeah. my life.
This is too much now. this is even worse. I have to get reasonable get everything done what I need to get done and forget about all my dreamy fucked up romantic and tragic feelings. fuck that fuck that fuck that fuck that Piranha. fuck that. simply. fuck it. rah!
and my next post will be about all the accidents I ever had in my life, and ladies and gentlemen, for being 22 there were too many to be true.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
everything hurts
- my back hurts
- disappointment hurts
- letting go hurts
- working hurts
- not being with my very very good friends somewhere in the romanian wilderness sleeping under open sky, cooking over open fire - hurts
- listening to music while working and realizing that I am where I don't want to be and that I actually am up for music and art projects - hurts
- you hurt me
am I whining...?
I guess I am.
everything hurts!!!
oh, and truth hurts.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
interim report in the form of an email
here is an email i just wrote and for some reason i felt like throwing it out into the blogosphere....my good friend fell in love with a guy from Australia and yeah, she thinks she knows what I feel now. I don't think this is possible but as a mere matter of fact I have to acknowledge that there wouldn'T be so many sad gorgeous love songs and movies and artwork and wars and stuff if people weren't able to feel the same....heehee.
so here we go:
arim, i am off the weekend to attend the birthday of my grandfather. i come back wednesday or so and then i have to move into your room. is that okay with you (hehe)? i think it s the best opportunity anyways to see each other finally.
i hope that is allright
oh yeah and don t expect the feeling to vanish soon. i was out yesterday night (by mere coincidence and when i finally decided to go dancing it was so late i couldn t possibly call you) after work with T. who goes through a bad patch right now with her relationship and we got slightly drunk. the first time since a veeeeery long time for me. and i decided it s whack to drink and go to sleep so i went to a club i have never been to before. it s called icon. there was funky and hiphop music...and i danced all and ONLY for myself this night. it was crazy cool and felt like at one of those great deep parties. i was totally free. and of course, this kind of energy draws people to me like moths to light but i was cool. anyways. the whole time when i danced i had this warm feeling of love for david inside of me. THE WHOLE TIME. i loved him so much and danced with him in my imagination.
woha, i love him i guess. i think i do. i don t know whether i d love him if i knew him better but right now i still do.
i am happy and sorry for you that it happened to you with Jif. You will not see him again probably, will you? but it s good to know that there are special people out there, right, beside all boyfriends. life goes on Arim and it s good it does. there is no need to cling to things of the past out of fear for future.
i hope you are well. lets meet either tonight or tomorrow night after my working.
piranha
so here we go:
arim, i am off the weekend to attend the birthday of my grandfather. i come back wednesday or so and then i have to move into your room. is that okay with you (hehe)? i think it s the best opportunity anyways to see each other finally.
i hope that is allright
oh yeah and don t expect the feeling to vanish soon. i was out yesterday night (by mere coincidence and when i finally decided to go dancing it was so late i couldn t possibly call you) after work with T. who goes through a bad patch right now with her relationship and we got slightly drunk. the first time since a veeeeery long time for me. and i decided it s whack to drink and go to sleep so i went to a club i have never been to before. it s called icon. there was funky and hiphop music...and i danced all and ONLY for myself this night. it was crazy cool and felt like at one of those great deep parties. i was totally free. and of course, this kind of energy draws people to me like moths to light but i was cool. anyways. the whole time when i danced i had this warm feeling of love for david inside of me. THE WHOLE TIME. i loved him so much and danced with him in my imagination.
woha, i love him i guess. i think i do. i don t know whether i d love him if i knew him better but right now i still do.
i am happy and sorry for you that it happened to you with Jif. You will not see him again probably, will you? but it s good to know that there are special people out there, right, beside all boyfriends. life goes on Arim and it s good it does. there is no need to cling to things of the past out of fear for future.
i hope you are well. lets meet either tonight or tomorrow night after my working.
piranha
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
German Blues
I discovered by chance a really cute bar with lots of guitars everywhere on the wall and the ceiling (BUT WTF, why are they there and not in use....tztzt) and a note saying that on saturday night would be a blues band playing there. Of course I thought this to be one of those funny coincidences that happen to me all the time when I follow my inner voice because I LOVE BLUES!!"!!! I also thought that this was one more gift of life which obviously makes fun of me because I want David so desperately but it turned out to be...ahm....read on! -.
Okay, lets say it frankly and right away in the beginning to take all unnecessary tension away: It was a joke. Thank you life, I still love you. Nevermind....
The band: they sat in a way that they formed a triangle: the leadsinger/guitar player was the tallest as he was sitting on a bar stool. the bassist: sat, as he was so tall that he would have been taller than the leadsinger (what a shame!). the percussionist: she was sitting at the left. the pianist: she was sitting at the right. wonderful, this harmonious constellation don'T you think...
The band: all of them white. yeah, i am white too and I think and I insist on the fact that white people can play the blues as beautifully as our coloured brothers and sisters. oh, but it hurted to see them. i explain in a minute. so, the band all white and you know, fuck prejudices!!! people can look really whack and crap and still be cool and amazing, right! I mean, if the bassist looks like a teenager with tons of pimpels on his face, so be it! I am the last one to judge bodies, you know. I have enough issues with my own... yeah. and if the percussionist looks like a retard it doesn't mean she is a bad percussionist right, and if the singer seems to have a problem with anouncing the 's', so what! so what.
The music: IS THAT BLUES??????? I HAVE TO GO HOME IMMEDIATELY AND CHECK MY BLUES CDS JUST TO MAKE SURE I AM NOT FUCKED!!!!!
first I thought it is because they played way too fast. but then I decided that there is no rule as to how fast you may or may not play. fuck, no, it s about whether or not you FEEL the blues. dammit.
the bandleader was actually using scores at times and text and still he fucked the text up at times. WHO GIVES A FUCK ANYWAYS? nobody would even REALIZE you fuck it up if you just go on and invent sth. but no, you looked like a little boy who performs his instrument and stumbles each time he makes a mistake. if you are in a flow that doesn'T happen.
The bandleader: whenever he played a guitar solo I could see the masseters at his jaw totally clenched. yeah. relax bro! there was not a SINGLE tune or note that sounded like a SURPRISE as you hear it so often in blues. you know, listening to great blues players I often had the impression that at times a single note surprised themselves as well, and they were cherishing and loving this note which made the blues. Okay, so he covered it. He had a blues cover band. But hell, if you cover you can still put sth of your OWN in there, right? You love blues and always dreamed of playing it, too? Thats not enough!!!! You ve got to FEEL the blues when you play it. There was not depth to it. it was flat like Ally Mc Beals belly.
The percussionist: OMG. She moved in a way that reminded me strongly of a musicschool project in which untalented people are given the chance of experiencing music despite their inability. She kept the rythm, yes, but all mechanically and her enthusiasm was so German (yes I felt very very sorry for the Germans who actually fit into the stereotypes in this moment) that I couldn't stand looking at her. My friend said to defend her: maybe she just jumped in and usually doesn't play with them. But oh, she did. She is part of that fucked up band that claims to play the blues. BAH!#
The bassist: as I said before, looked like a teenager marked by acne. Poor guy. His smile was so....you know when you play air guitar in your room while listening to your favorite band and suddenly catch your reflection in a mirror? Huh, horrific, hm? Yeah one of those moments you know... I think he saw me as I was sitting quite in the front and whenever he felt I was looking at him he put a little more effort in his playing nodding his head, instead only of his feet. *throws up*
The pianist: was the only one who played music. honestly. you could see there was a connection between her enthusiasm and love for music and actual skills. I guess thats what it about. You need this connection. I don't blame those guys and girls for not being good musicians but it was a pain to listen to them. In a bar. Uh. They should perform at home for their parents and grandparents or so.
It was very very very sad to see this German blues coverband who basically raped all the songs I faintly recognized to be songs I actually used to listen to with great pleasure...
But my friend and I had a hilarious time nevertheless because it was so sad that it was actually funny already. They really looked like caricatures and it was so horrible. In the moment we decided to leave a guy asked: do you like the music?
I think our leaving was answer enough.
Oh, the audience: a bunch of middle aged people who look like they couldn't really let go of the rocker inside themselves. You don't see this kind of creatures in the streets normally and really wonder where they hide all the time. Great opportunity for character studies for drawing by the way...
Okay, lets say it frankly and right away in the beginning to take all unnecessary tension away: It was a joke. Thank you life, I still love you. Nevermind....
The band: they sat in a way that they formed a triangle: the leadsinger/guitar player was the tallest as he was sitting on a bar stool. the bassist: sat, as he was so tall that he would have been taller than the leadsinger (what a shame!). the percussionist: she was sitting at the left. the pianist: she was sitting at the right. wonderful, this harmonious constellation don'T you think...
The band: all of them white. yeah, i am white too and I think and I insist on the fact that white people can play the blues as beautifully as our coloured brothers and sisters. oh, but it hurted to see them. i explain in a minute. so, the band all white and you know, fuck prejudices!!! people can look really whack and crap and still be cool and amazing, right! I mean, if the bassist looks like a teenager with tons of pimpels on his face, so be it! I am the last one to judge bodies, you know. I have enough issues with my own... yeah. and if the percussionist looks like a retard it doesn't mean she is a bad percussionist right, and if the singer seems to have a problem with anouncing the 's', so what! so what.
The music: IS THAT BLUES??????? I HAVE TO GO HOME IMMEDIATELY AND CHECK MY BLUES CDS JUST TO MAKE SURE I AM NOT FUCKED!!!!!
first I thought it is because they played way too fast. but then I decided that there is no rule as to how fast you may or may not play. fuck, no, it s about whether or not you FEEL the blues. dammit.
the bandleader was actually using scores at times and text and still he fucked the text up at times. WHO GIVES A FUCK ANYWAYS? nobody would even REALIZE you fuck it up if you just go on and invent sth. but no, you looked like a little boy who performs his instrument and stumbles each time he makes a mistake. if you are in a flow that doesn'T happen.
The bandleader: whenever he played a guitar solo I could see the masseters at his jaw totally clenched. yeah. relax bro! there was not a SINGLE tune or note that sounded like a SURPRISE as you hear it so often in blues. you know, listening to great blues players I often had the impression that at times a single note surprised themselves as well, and they were cherishing and loving this note which made the blues. Okay, so he covered it. He had a blues cover band. But hell, if you cover you can still put sth of your OWN in there, right? You love blues and always dreamed of playing it, too? Thats not enough!!!! You ve got to FEEL the blues when you play it. There was not depth to it. it was flat like Ally Mc Beals belly.
The percussionist: OMG. She moved in a way that reminded me strongly of a musicschool project in which untalented people are given the chance of experiencing music despite their inability. She kept the rythm, yes, but all mechanically and her enthusiasm was so German (yes I felt very very sorry for the Germans who actually fit into the stereotypes in this moment) that I couldn't stand looking at her. My friend said to defend her: maybe she just jumped in and usually doesn't play with them. But oh, she did. She is part of that fucked up band that claims to play the blues. BAH!#
The bassist: as I said before, looked like a teenager marked by acne. Poor guy. His smile was so....you know when you play air guitar in your room while listening to your favorite band and suddenly catch your reflection in a mirror? Huh, horrific, hm? Yeah one of those moments you know... I think he saw me as I was sitting quite in the front and whenever he felt I was looking at him he put a little more effort in his playing nodding his head, instead only of his feet. *throws up*
The pianist: was the only one who played music. honestly. you could see there was a connection between her enthusiasm and love for music and actual skills. I guess thats what it about. You need this connection. I don't blame those guys and girls for not being good musicians but it was a pain to listen to them. In a bar. Uh. They should perform at home for their parents and grandparents or so.
It was very very very sad to see this German blues coverband who basically raped all the songs I faintly recognized to be songs I actually used to listen to with great pleasure...
But my friend and I had a hilarious time nevertheless because it was so sad that it was actually funny already. They really looked like caricatures and it was so horrible. In the moment we decided to leave a guy asked: do you like the music?
I think our leaving was answer enough.
Oh, the audience: a bunch of middle aged people who look like they couldn't really let go of the rocker inside themselves. You don't see this kind of creatures in the streets normally and really wonder where they hide all the time. Great opportunity for character studies for drawing by the way...
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