i am incredibly blue
i wish i had an excuse. like, i suffered so much pain. what is this? empty words. music only touches upon the surface of this well. i am my biggest obstacle. yearning wraps raw flesh, the gaping wound is covered with all sorts of ideas dreams and notions.
when i look into the setting sun, covered in dust, to make it red and stark, i remember the sun in thailand and how it shone, crying red tears every day after you left this world. i can´t think properly. i wish this was the sole reason but really it´s a wild mix of longing, sadness and readiness to break open. to be held. in the end.

I am brewing up a storm inside of me.
And during the conversation I can feel how their attention drifts away again and again and I am not sure if it is because i am lacking convincing arguments or because I am a woman. After endless albeit very interesting turns and twists of the verbal road it seems that the need of re-assurance and putting one´s eloquence and indepth thinking to good use has been satisfied and the conversation ebbs into easier topics such as killing pigs and meat in general.
My body feels light and I want to dance. My thoughts are dancing. I am thirsty for more indepth thinking. I am amused by it and strangely intrigued, everytime I experience it. There IS this need and desire inside of me. Where have I gone wrong? Why in the world have I chosen the paths I have chosen? Why in the world have I not chosen other roads? It is a complete mystery to me. Like all these years in LA - why haven´t I created a different life from what i lived then for myself? Why didn´t I go and get myself a damn car and go to Capoiera classes and dance classes. Why didn´t I join the circus or go climbing? I didn´t even engage myself in social work, - the least I would have expected from myself. I ditched all the opportunities my sister wanted me to take. I lived an utterly and unmistakingly different life from anything that had ever occurred to me as an ideal.
The same goes for my course of studies now. While in general I feel good and in the right place, again and again I pose myself questions as to why I haven´t chosen to study law after all, or at least, for heaven´s sake, sociology/politics as a minor.
My interests and enthusiasms are so widely spread out that it is quite scary to look at them considering my age. I don´t want to pull the age card necessarily but it seems to be on my mind more frequently these days. I remember when I read posts by another blogger who blogged about being black and female and 28. It seemed like an issue that would never pertain to me at that point. However, here I am, white, female, 28. and single. like her.
I need to be engaged more often in conversations like these, which I had tonight. Even if that involves me feeling stupid (because I might be in comparison) or disregarded (because I am a woman and not endowed with the kind of background knowledge they had due to their studies). There is this fire burning inside of me that is concerned with general questions.

so this spring was the spring of my life in which i fell in love with a man twice my age, with a gay friend and additionally fell out of love with a perfectly perfect heterosexual man my age. irony, isn´t it.

beneath the skin

your fingers explore my hand. your skin is direct and there. it feels good. it feels like you really see me with your hand.
i keep my eyes closed so i can feel everything. the care, the discovery, the accuracy. your head is pressed against mine. we talk sparsely. he is anxious to get going but your hand keeps with mine. you touch him lovingly and reassuringly now and again. but you are there with me and i can feel it. he knows it. he accepts it. he really wants you. he knows what he is bargaining for. your golden heart radiates warmth. i feel cozy and slow. in the kitchen we talk about that man that i was wishing for while cutting my birthday cake. and how my lesbian roommate said she had wished for a woman while i was cutting and then you said well maybe he will be gay and i turn around and look at you and say, but i already found the perfect gay man. we hug. instantly and it feels good. i remember your fingers on mine. our skin texture works perfectly together. you say with a sigh, sometimes i also wish i wasn´t gay.
he turns away, half way pretending to be offended, half way being hurt. i hurry to try and fix things but in a very very clumsy way. i would have your kids, anyway.
beneath the layers i know
that we know
it is love only.

when you feel down and spent good vibes can really get to you. it´s a common misconception to think that good vibes can make things be good. in the contrary, i think when you feel blue, the blues will you do good.

the guy who never made it

this picture is the essence of what I have missed out on.

I remember the night you took me home and just one look and you knew what was happening. you stopped the car, i opened it and threw up into the bushes at the side of the street. not a word to ridicule me or make it funny or anything. you just stopped and helped me. Then one day, weeks prior to my leaving, you told me you´d like to take pictures of my home and me in it, doing what i do, singing, cooking, reading, writing, massaging -whatever. We never made it happen, there was too much going on I guess.
That night you joined me in the jacuzi - Salome left and I felt helpless, naked, unsure what was going to happen. Your lips. So sweet. Like honeydew. I will never forget.

Somethings are bound to happen and somethings we never get. There is this idea of you and I lingering in my mind whenever I run into you - every blue moon that is. And there is so much that divides us, the other girl, beauty, lack of decisiveness. Me knowing, that you and I are not cut out for each other for what I feel I am going for... But you are so beautiful, in your soft voice and your strong shoulders and your flaming into the skies.

of course you were right.
intellectual pursuit can´t be all there is. i have been there, you claimed, and it couldn´t help me one bit when i was hanging at the end of my little rope. the only thing powerful enough was faith.
of course i would agree with you. I still don´t know, if you were right though. Would you have come to the end of your rope had you pursued thought consequently enough? if you had doven into it for the love of it?
i don´t know.
in the end, still, i think love matters.
and still, of course, we can´t cast blame and talk bad about intellectuality, about conscious thought. about people pursuing it deeply. it is all necessary. the critical thought, the transcending poem, the word.

i love you

of course we could never be together I say to him. he has all sorts of idea why that is true. sometimes they almost seem like masked insanity. it is a nice challenge but life seems so much more to me. obviously, of course, i could be wrong and i just don´t understand it. maybe i am just not well versed enough to even see why that would matter. but then I remember Jo. and how sharp his knives were and how elevating conversations were with him. and how they never left me feeling i was far beyond him or not worth the conversation. he was genuinly interested. how could he be interested when it wasn´t brilliant thought i was delivering? i want to sharpen my knives. i do, in a way. but Jo knew there was more. and it was beyond words. and while he knew of the value of sharp knives he also knew how to cook.
i don´t want to make it too easy on me. but my intuition usually is right. there is something, and you know it. there is something and it is not quite right. there must be more.

his voice sounds a little amused and lenient toward me. i was just saying how it seems to be quite difficult to get to meet you he says, and i am not sure if there is annoyance in his tone or is it amusement or both.
my pulse is up a little and i feel like a 13 year old, squirming inside, a little, his voice knows no walls or nets or borders, it touches my heart directly and unforgivingly. he is way older than me. he is the guy that makes me wish i had been born 20 years before my time. i am balancing along the fine line between soul-mate and inexplicable earthly attraction.
do i have to bury it inside?
silence pervades my soul

it´s easier for me to play/invent songs for OTHER people. for friends. for strangers. in intense situations. i am like a bloodsucker sucking the intensity of my intentions towards a friend or a stranger into my creative pool. i take their imagined situation in to fuel my song. my paintings. there is a dialogue. if it isn´t for someone, it is a dialgoue with a picture i am painting. the imagined. even if it is - and that happens rarely - about my situation, my feelings, my life, i take a step back, create a distance and suck the moment´s intensity in to spill it over my paper. my guitar. my words.

it is easier for me to heal other people, as well. I love doing my work as a massage therapeut, as an amateur counsellor (and many friends cherish that ability of mine), I love putting myself into someone´s shoes and drawing pictures and songs and words for them, create meaning in an otherwise chaotic situation, spill magic into their desolate perspectives and hold them softly when it just needs to rain. I encourage them to feel and express what they feel, to go through the valleys and climb these mountains oh so steep.

it is very rare that I share my own messy pain with them. I do cry in public, surrounded by strangers, hiding behind sunglasses or shielding myself with an aura of aloofness. and when I do share, it is very very much only the surface. when I get massages I don´t cry. I cry afterwards. Even if the therapist says, let it go, I don´t let go. I have always held back that way. Hard to let go. Maybe that´s something I have brought with me. It is strange

what I share often is silly goofing around, spilling my enthusiasm and joy about little and big things in my life, making jokes, playing games, bouncing around, singing songs...telling stories.... telling MANY stories. showing them my awe and enthusiasm about their beauty and all that.


The hardest part of becoming a true artist and a true healer is to go through these doors myself, however. To learn how to share also the dark side of the moon. To accept myself on the losing side. To embrace the weak and the victim inside. To let other´s take control and let my control go when it´s in the way of healing myself.

strange now that i have left fb i feel the urge to continue writing on my blogs.
i guess it was never really about any one else but a place to drop something off, in the knowledge of someone else able of viewing and re-experiencing it - or not. It doesn´t really matter even if or how anyone reads or sees anything I put out there, it´s more the fact that this is not my journal that adds an interesting aspect to writing, transforms it, transcends it.

this is a late impossible night. postponing work I ought to do and re-reading old old old mails that make me feel very heavy inside. Sometimes, inbetween, there are moments of lucidtiy and I know it is all good and not everything has been that great.
you see.

one day maybe
we will know
maybe we will know
who we are to each other
then my soul will sing

to sink
sink
sink

into your arms

oh darkness

there is nothing i can do or that has happened that has successfully put you out of my mind. i can´t forget. not so much even forget, but stop. i have loved you in a way that i haven´t found with anyone. there is nothing i can do about this now, can i?
so many things remind me of you. your way of being with me is still resonating with me. when you shut it off it was walking in salt deserts. my heart´s breaking and my yearnings. there is nothing that can put it into words for me.
i am way past it now, right? it´s very long ago. there is no reason i should still look back. or is it looking into the depths?
i am tired, of you, darkness.

dreams

Melancholy my friend.
You hold your fortress well my friend, on the dark side of the moon.
You hold the balance well my friend, on the dark side of my moon.
Melancholy my friend, you flood my dreams with images of distortion and blue.
Melancholy my friend, have I not been good to you?

My sorrows, who can weigh them but us?
They are nothing against the tall blue sky.
They are everything agains my days.

Boison berry jam and words of his soul. I kneel down now, in front of you all. I am on the living side, lend me a hand. Show me your strength, show me your soul. Alone, I cannot walk this path, lend me a hand, melancholy, my friend, lend me a hand.

i feel something heavy inside. it is almost tangible out here too. lights flashing through my veins. it is impossible to know and i am whirling like a derwish, i wail to the moon inside my mouth, spit it out, spit it out.

lifting the unknown into the fresh cold from within.
music makes it easier. tears find their ways easily, stopping softly before my eyes, creating a sea of floods that one day will break through.

love, oh love, when can i break through. when will the hesitating subside. when will i be free from this stone that is tying me to the grounds. there is no signs on the surface, just a sadder face, a sadder look in the eyes and a mumbling heart.

inner sovereignty it is i feel the distance takes me to a place from which i can smirk at everything passing: i might be very well dead but i am not, i haven´t crossed, i am in the possession of a body and senses, i am still alive.
you show some sort of respect to that, and i like it. i indeed revel in it a wee bit before i feel the pain ebbing in and silences me relentlessly.
you are gone. and it is so impossible, that sometimes i can talk about it just like that but the very actual moment when it happened, when you fell, i will never forget, i will never be able to fully grasp nor understand, it was so sudden and out of the blue, it has changed my life utterly and completely, even though it might not seem so from the outside.
from in here it feels different now. i feel so broken inside, it is almost beautiful. trust me, i would trade it ANY day for the old ways. if you were only still alive. with us. if you hadn´t crossed before my eyes.
people are so utterly self consumed, it is quite funny. i remember that i could be the one asking, touching, reaching out but it is quite difficult to do from the place where i am at right now. i just sit and watch the evening go by.
tears fall down in the cold sunlight there is a moment of pain stabbing in my head and then it is gone.
i will never be the same, and that, certainly, is true for anyone.

you call me when you are stoned
even though you know
how i feel about that
you call me and you say
hearing you laugh
carries me through time
back to the place where my life really is
i say
but when you come visit you know
you can't smoke
you say
of course
i want to learn that anyway

i sigh

she sings the way i know
going her way
what can i say
words can pull it together now
not my words
anyway
they say that love doesn't go away
it's the people who walk away

never entirely sure why we say and do the things we say and do.
it could be clarity in your mind or hidden jealousy, crouching tigers, flying dragons, life to live by.
i understand now that you stopped interpreting. stopped dreaming. stopped weaving visions into the threads of unfolding life.
stories untold. fairy tales ignored. zebras and moonbeams and a circus mind that is running around.
you stopped believing. there is no faith, only resignation. diving into the unknown. without a safety net. just like that. free fall.
love couldn't stop you. you said, it is impossible. you have never resignated before. i have. i have resignated. we can't be together.

she looks at me in distress. that's what he said to me. he doesn't feel that he is worth being loved. what has ever been worth being loved? we don't know anything about that. love is because of the mysteries it unfolds. and enfolds.

we are lying in the gras. it is dry from the hot summer sun but the rolling meadow looks soft like elven-grass and the trees stand tall and hum in the soft breeze their summer songs. we are both topless. she plays with a blade of grass, re-drawing the contures of my body, tickeling my breasts, gazing into the sparsely clouded skies, reading me a book.
strange she says, with you i don't feel the absence of a man. i feel that it is completely and utterly okay, sufficient, i am just happy the way it is. i smile. is that a compliment? or does that mean i have more man-qualities than your other friends? no, no she says. you are just a woman that makes me happy the way it is.
we roll on our stomachs. somebody asks for a lighter. she squints her eyes and talks about life. about nothing in particular. about her friend. her laughter bursts out like colors splashing agains a white wall. her heart-rhythm is strong and beautiful. a dance to be involved in. to listen to. to feel embraced.
i lie on her stomach. her skin is smooth and light. her beautiful curves and the way she gives me a light but warm kiss on the mouth. she is like a sister to me. oh sister, when i come, to lie at your side.
she is de-tangeling herself softly and slowly from the tapestry of her past. her safety. her parents. her upbringing. ready to killing it softly with her song.
she is coming on strong.
i am either the best friend or just a sexual sidekick to men she says, pouting. i think i am not mysterious enough. i smile. i know these exact words. she is more mysterious than she probably will ever know. the layers of her heart and soul, the intricate complexity of her spirit, her feeling, her thinking, her moving in space and time. her smile. her embrace, when she holds me while i cry. the book she bought me just because. the things she says and doesn't say. her bare feet in the sun.

he will come. i say and i hope it is true for the both of us.

meanwhile i lean back and enjoy a perfect summerbreezeday at the lake. with her. naked. in body and soul. freely swinging, back and forth.

passing by

more and more often I have these flashes of images - you walking by and us not recognizing each other at all anymore. in the way we did. when we loved. further and further away you appear from the inside.
i would see you with your wife or your kid even and we'd just pass.

aren't you happy now you ask, we both got what we wanted.

you are married
and i am in Berlin.

ich radelte
und die musik in der nacht brachte bilder
janis joplin
santa monica blvd at night. envisioning you in your car, coming to a halt. asking me to get in. i felt like your bride. my heart was pounding. heavy. quivering.
but no tears yet no well.
dry.
other images in layers
i am sitting at the tree in berlin
at the spree
i see you walk in with your wife your girl on your arm
and you would walk by and we would
never meet
because it was a short time window that had opened
for us to meet
usually i was aware of the fact
that i would still pulsate
in excitement upon
seeing you
entering a room or a party
but that night
was different.
i knew, simply knew,
that we would have never talked.

time differences and spaces
making bubbles and protecting what is
it s good that way
it s just that i am watching
from the outside
i never had the chance to access
that well
of forgetting.

listen as the wind blows
crows disappear at night into the black
black in black
like my hopes.

i have the strong feeling of being a stranger in my own life.
my room feels good and homey and home, but i am a stranger in my own life. i am only visiting.

spa e

the vastness of the other world is consuming my music
or is it just one point, containing it all
the seed to let it grow
the tree into the spiritual world
a ladder to the heavens
a ladder to sweat and hard work
every day
a little bit of will

forget about discipline
it is in the steps
the getting up after falling down
like children
when they learn how to walk they say.

miles davis reveals in a silent way
i am a bit pouty
something my dad said upsetting me

the world has many more problems other than just that
you know it makes me think
the vastness
and the things we do

do they have any value
at all? when they feel good....
i mean, that doesnt' say anything after all.

it s not really a problem. it just stirs.
i cannot say anything about it.
the rain said it all.
early morning murmuring outside my balcony.

your wisdom is beyond my comprehension.
but it is beautiful.

hope sandoval

the sun is softly crawling through my open balcony door. red, black and white. hope sandoval sings "for the rest of your life" and I fade into blue.
it is, it is, it is a new life.
I look like a buddhist nun almost. hair shaved off. my blue red scarf from India is sighing, hugging my curves.
I am not, I am not, I am not caught in your webs, no, no. There is a big world out there, I know that. My heart has left seedlings all over and blood and velvet tears.
Dreams come to haunt me with horrifying images. Your smile is a faint consolation. I know that she bares your child. Your shield. Your life. She is your wife.
Dead men tell no tales, I hear. Oh, hope, can you let me fly, fly, fly?
I am not fully standing now. Don t really feel the ground. So I must be floating on the wings of now.
Oh bluebird, she is gone. She is gone, so far, to places we can t reach, no, no.
I hang my head and cry to the bandoneon wailing. To the violin crying. To the banjo tickeling my wonders.

I will not think about this now. I will go play with the sun crawling over my floor. Letting the red curtains caress my cheeks, dry them, let the shell tell me of shores unreached and unfathomable. Let the black girl with the curly hair stare into the unknown. There is nothing, nothing, only now.

Ah, hope. Let the trees blossom and spruce. Let me sink into the earth to find roots. It will be summer soon. Straighten your forehead. Straighten your heart. Stretch, stretch. There will be wings.

my heart is drowning
but it is alright that you go
i would never want to hold you back
it's just hard to let it all go
i see there is also life coming
but i am at the dark side of the moon
my afternoons drift by slowly
like a sailing boat in still air
i wish i could hug and kiss you like i used to
when you were like my child or little brother
when we were lying under the starry night skies
talking life and death
now you are the pioneer to venture into
what is
after the passage of death.

That we may ever live as friends

(Broken Feathers by The curse ov dialect)

There is no fading, no disappearing
You are always there, faint, like a notion, like a beat that pulses through my blood.
The concept of you not being here on the physical plane is hard to grasp. You were always there. An email away. A phonecall away. And calling you did.
So many people miss you.
My head started hurting after the ostheopathy treatments. Like little blades stabbing in the back and top of my skull.
Listening to a Schubert Orchestra piece tears started streaming like the waterfall that took your life. That you gave your life to.
I went through all the motions one more time. The images of you falling, they are tucked away, carefully, somewhere in the dark spaces inside my soul. At the dark side of the moon.
The moment of trying to bring you back to life and seeing you look increasingly dead. It was merely your body then.

And I was too panicked to even pray or rest or breathe next to your body that you had left. I just crawled through the jungle in shock, calling for help.

I don't know if I can ever forget. I will have to retrieve the lost moments. I will have to forge new ways to understand.
Spiritual gold out of dark blue pain matter.

That we may ever live as friends.

max paul maria

pale moon by max paul maria

i wake up and i am so mad at you. i look in the mirror my eyes are deep holes and everything is distorted.
lets just sing and drink and smoke and forget about everything. dance into the evening.

you are lying there just waiting to DIE!
are you kidding me?
it makes me mad.
you say you envy Joseph.
we all wish we had some more time with him. Also, he meditated. you just breathe and give yourself to your depression. i wanna shake you. fuck.
it's just not my place i guess but i am sending you this in my thoughts: get up and make the most of it. man.
i know you have tried all this time. but don't give up now. don't give up.

the things we do to each other
the things that have been
i am beyond comprehension
i can't cast blame

i am one of them
how can people do this?
i am one of us

strange how i can enjoy
the luxuries of the good life
or so they call it
and yet i would prefer
any day of the week
to live

with the poor.

seeds

forever i have to carry
this seed
buried deep in the deserts
of my soul

full of possibilities
(- the lake! the spirits of wind dancing on the lake
silence shared beneath lanterns! forget the waterfalls! and their eternal song,-)
that my tears cannot bring to life
even if i let it rain hard, -
there is too much salt

sand forever, only stars
- remember that drawing well, remember! -
the snake wrapped
neatly snug around his
ankle
- so you can recognize the place! -

like a lightning only
so he could leave

- write me, in case you meet him
write me because he tamed me -

This Little Prince.

she sings i may know the words and it takes me on the flow of blue secrecies.
i am lost in my longing and loving for you

the earthy color of the dark yellow and orange of the monk's robe is comforting my blue mind
nothing really matters anymore
he says this life it is so short
why not make it about helping other people
i nod my head and see tears in the sky
gathering in the dusty clouds of old times
they are burning the fields these days
to make way for the new
to make way for the new
to make way
way
away.

distant guitar sounds bring me messengers on winged feet
they cry their eyes out on some distant stream
winding down the valleys and hills of rolling thunder
there is word on the street
that you may have come back
but it is wax and pillows only
and dreams evaporating in ricefields
and flies circeling around my body
as if it were merely
a corps

i will go and take a ride
try to find gifts and price
to all i have loved and lost
going with a smile into the
voids of an unknown veil

i am standing here disgusted by all this bullshit and i know i wanted to go deeper.
still, even silence sometimes seems like a pretense.
i just want to be by myself then
or with another.

my heart is so heavy
sometimes i think i ll just throw it all and run away
dedicating it to circus art and music and crazy lifelove
but then it s winter
and it s the end of the semester
and it s the end of that old road
and it s time to get on a new path

it s just that - since it hasn t happen so far
i can t imagine at all
that i would ever fall again
so in love
and this makes me wonder
if i could just hear
what you think
but that s the box of pandora
is it!
and it s forbidden
ah the fruit.

sometimes i don t like people at all
especially when they stink
then i am reminded of how weird we are
and animals usually just so much better off
because so innocent and not so fuckin indulgent
i d love to love again
but mostly i am disgusted

i am so sad. so sad. night engulfs my mind

Look into your own heart, the voice whispers.. Strange sounds surround us. Voices. Dreams, Opportunities, Convictions, Expectations, Principals, Ideals, Realities, Necessities, Demands, Pressures...

Ah, sometimes my soul spreads its wings and wants to fly into the warm summer night.
Polar light.
Deserts.
Sounds,
Smiles.
Tears,
Voices.
Stories.
Yet to be discovered by my self.

soap and skin

late night
cry wolf
exactly how i would have done it
the story goes on
life is a miracle
life is weird
this girl is crazy
she flies into the sun
the dark sun
and leaves me here
in goosebumps
and it's so good to forget
and sink
and fall
and rise
it makes all sense now
it comes all together
all she knows
is that she wants the inbetween
the difference
the nuance in black and gray
and i leave her to the white
and sink into the night
giving my peace away
that stirred this mind

mazzy star yet again

and the wounds are healing slowly
the scent of the memories is still lingering in the air now
purified
shedding all the tears
washing it all clean
scrubbing it with the salt
washing it all away

mazzy star
cry cry
like you knew i wouldn't do

it's hard to just keep on keep on
but sometimes that's we gotta do
no rest inside
you have to go so far that you are out of sight
otherwise there would be no way
i could turn around and leave you
and all that love
that was dripping off of you
bathing me in the sunlight
basking in the moonlight
and soft tears
welling up in our hearts
as we felt that our time had passed
a last
kiss
and
love made in fresh linen

like you do
like you do
like you do
like you do

it takes away

tears are falling and there is nothing dramatic or pretentious about this.
he is dying.
and maybe he will survive
it comes as a slow shock
not like earthquakes
but slow like a draught
sucking away life
every day

this is just
more fragile
more see through
than life is anyways
it takes away
it takes away
illusions of safety

the music pours in now
and my head hurts
i want to hang it and cry
he is so beautiful
against the sky
there with his guitar
and his eyes half closed
life is tragic as it is
we don't need any more imagination
there he floats in the melodies and rhythms
like dandelions when they fly

and we can't ask
we can't ask why.

it is twelve past nine
the emergency exits are locked
there is no way out
only in only in

her tea always tastes like magic
i haven't been swimming in a long time
i want to sauna
i can't think
haiti
haiti
and him

how is pedro?
still roaming the streets?
collecting pieces of paper?
with no shoes on his feet?
his mother sounded so distressed
she says she will try and stay strong
and i know she can never forget the day
she found his brother - hung
in her attic

it's weird this life
like Uli
he deserves to be here!
so many alleys
and he can create and give so much!
and learn
but people in Haiti had to go
and Rwanda
and in Kabul
and Baghdad
and he might too

like Max who fought against brain tumors
and now
we only meet in dreams
and moments of unspoken truth

i can't find your traces
they don't lead to my doorstep
i have left my house long ago
when you left my heart in pieces
on my way somewhere i don't know
a train that is running
and i can't stop it, no, no

well, but if i look in your eyes and see the smile in the corner of your lips i don't really have a real option as to whether or not.

so then it is, out of sight out of mind, and i sigh because i can't find the truth in any of that.
this music is old and worn out and i like to wear it like old favorite pants.

maybe we should just be that - friends.
i look at him, riddled, and swallow
i don't think i could do that - is that what you want?
no, no. could be that we were lying then? we were like strangers
my heart was crying uncontrollably
everytime i couldn't make out with you
in the laundry room
when i touched your hand
and maybe you just felt sorry or obliged
that would be so terrible

after all these years, i still love you so
you mutter as you fall asleep
before i wash away in a flood of impossibilities
and you hold my hand
and ask me why
i let everyone i love
take advantage of me

i couldn't really say anything
but nestled into your arms i felt so safe
and it fitted
just so well
and the smell
the smell
and the smile!
your eyes.
the soul that i once had known.

oh geez i miss you

i had this really strange dream
and we knew
you knew
that i had been your
only true love
i wiped a nephews behind
and got really impatient
i just wanted to talk to you
and find out the situation
why did you take me on this trip you said
and you were mad somehow
i said it hadn't been my idea
mom's
and i said remembere how we went up that hill
i later went down that steep slope
and i probably had mentioned also
your coming here with the new girl later on
why did you rub it in my face you said
and i felt sorry
and then you took me at the hand

ray sings empty
and i sit and swing forth and back about you
on my little rope

again

it's just the little buzz
it's just the coming home blues
it's just the snow
and being lonely

i check her site and i am almost upset
that there is no new pictures

i feel back
i fall back
i sink into the old unknown.

will i always feel that way?
so empty,
so estranged.

and I will go on a new journey
and fight new battles
and maybe I will win
one of them

and there will be still nothing to hold me
or someone
except my guardian angel
and boy did he do a good job

i am slipping
i am hiding
i am sliding
leaving the blanks unfulfilled
never calling anyone
but occasionally

it will be
just that way
gege

Lhasa de Sela

lying awake and falling asleep to Lhasa de Sela in Monterey
it was the summer of 2007 and it was when the dying began
I was caught in a world of magical stories, dark and somber, putting one foot after the other on that blank page of what my present had become. running barefoot through the mossy backyard, climbing trees and hiding.
We were there with the whole family. Landed at a tiny little airport with a private little 8 seater.
And the art in the house was exquisite yet foreign to me and I fell asleep in the refuge of what her music became to me.

She has passed away now. Two and a half years only after I heard her in Marie's friends car in Hollywood.

My love had been as uncertain as my love at that point and I was heading into a foggy misty future. Not knowing where I would wound up. Free, free as a bird. Like a little wing. That flies on.
And see, where I landed. On track. and everything seems fine. Just running behind time a little bit. And a gift at my hands of a completely free and unbound excourse I took. Lhasa de Sela's music - 'The Living Road' especially and 'Lhasa' also - a painting of that emotion.

i can't yet put it really into words. i am nothing, standing in front of this lady who placed her life at the feet of the Unseen.

the slow comes to a halt

snow falling.

and she lifts her burdens and spreads them on the ground
smiling
her invitation still standing
but i know i will not intrude
scared to bother
so i walk away
in the still
in the standing
in the moment of truth.

the eternity of the stillness in this moment grasps my heart and i choke on it for a while.
it tickles the will and the weakness, it makes me sing and cry and scream but there are no sounds and no tears falling
empty flowers, meaningless, entwined around the structures of the past and the old and the sold.

still not lost enough to be found

she sings 'still not lost enough to be found'
and i have closed this book
it's not closing a chapter
but a whole book
and you are both in there now
i am moving on to new horizons
like on a ship, setting sails
leaving on a fresh new morning
love prevails

it's ten in the evening and i have looked back one last time. i will create a folder and let it hide.

i am carrying you in my dreams, in my heart, when i drive down schonhauser boulevard. the night is crispy cold but i have a heater, i remember the driving and i remember our love clearly.
people say, oh my god, can't you let go already, or things like, you aren't really over him yet, huh
but it's not quite like that. i smile, genuinly, when i think of you and your love now. and i mean that girl.
it is not like that at all. i just - still carry you in my heart. i can't really do anything about it or maybe i just don't want to, not soon, anyways. it is precious to me, in many ways, and while the painful tides have ebbed i still make you room in my thoughts, in my mind, in my heart, in my soul, when i drive down the alley, when i sing a song.
see, there was a dream once, about you and me in this city. i was here and you begged me to come back. and i did and we had our time. we shared some of it. and things were in the open, they have always been, and even though you predicted some fatalities and knew that some thing were inevitable, i fought against this notion, believing one could forge more than one thought. and sometimes, more than one ought to. you know, so what. now it's come that way. maybe it will be as predicted and people say, well, see.
but i still think, it is so wide and open. this life. and we can't see. only so far. and love is the one thing that pervades and penetrates all these time layers and frames and countries. these walls and if's and should haves and haven't. the not's and the yesses, the things that tear us apart and merge our souls in the eternal some when in the later.
i talk of you with tenderness and pain in my voice, sweet, sweet the sting. and i don't know if i will ever meet my friend again, and i don't know if and how i will ever meet you again but i hope it will be in the magic of the now.
it is what it is
maktub
says the alchemist
as it is written.

nina

how i love you girl. the way you laughed at the beach, swirling staff and poi, dancing with the wind. you moved like reed, singing to the stories carried on the wings of old.
see, i can't put this in words...the mornings i woke at sara's place, her room like a beacon in the sky. like a ship stirring into the unknown. and then you came along. and you made everything so beautiful. your eyes, your way of looking at things in a way that revealed all the magic and beauty in the tiniest details. your soft voice breaking through encrusted wounds and walls that i had built in an effort to survive.
soft and strong your energy and love, elusive and tangible in the same time.
the morning you woke me at 6 am crying on the phone. the opening in your soul that you let me see and let me into your life. i remember driving down to where you lived and your brave, courageous self, trying to scramble the shatters of the unexpected from the floor, trying to piece yourself back together, check with the parameters, the axioms and the coordinates of your system.

soaring into the sky. transcending the old, flying into a now filled with life and new and song.

i feel a little bit like sitting in a train on a journey with an unknown destination. the feeling of thrilling anxiety and curiosity mingled with the feeling of the fatality inherent to the sounds of the train's determined and irreversibly rolling wheels on the tracks takes over as i sit and look into the face of my new, oh so new life. this is a new chapter, whether i want it or not, and as i am still revelling and suffering in the afterglow of the last one, i feel how a fresh wind is taking my ship into a new direction.

where we go

i don't know

spark

a small tiny little spark only. but your smile ripped some of the clouds apart. i am listening to the beach house on myspace. i revel in photographs of golden times when i was barely 18 years old. and my mind keeps wandering off to the moment the videochat came through yesterday night. and that smile of yours.
today in the doctors office i was reading such interesting articles on movements in the anthroposophical scene. young people opening their minds, asking difficult questions and such. great!
and i. i sit in the doctors office and read. then i think of you. and smile.
there is so many things i still wanna do and find out. maybe i will meet someone. hoping not to be held up by my past.
just keepin on, keepin on.
the beach house music
and it's kind of late at night already. i have a beautiful home.
i love you kiddo, i always will
it's not like that
i will
but you know, we both know that it's time to fly on. and nothing will be lost or forgotten
because i loved you so
and still will
always
so.

it will be okay then

i wasn't going to bed, even though i maybe should have. listening to beach house on myspace and drifting. trying to avoid thoughts that were old and just keepin on, keepin on. it's so hard to defy the temptations. of reminiscing in love that i knew. it's okay, so you just keep on, keep on. there are beautiful people passing by. that girl today, she took me by surprise. so full of life and radiating like a sunbeam in the early summer mornings. asking for my brother. it shook me up. i called him later, crying, telling him how much i love him. i can't even describe. he was embracing my love, just like that. back then. he never doubted it one time. well, hello melancholy. try to be a little more lyrical!

stories of prostitutes on kurfuerstenstrasse. internationally known whore pit. streetwalking ladies, yo, it breaks my heart. behind every story there is a tragedy. rape, neglect, waywardness, sorrow. mothers who beat their kids, looked the other way when their men raped their children. it's breaking my fucking heart. it makes me cry. dad says, well, you can't stop there. you have to figure out how you can grow strong, so you can walk beside them.
i turn my head and i hang my head and cry.
music is the only thing that still can reach that far then.
you give me strength to keep going to keep on to keep on.

i remember sunset blv. the street at night, i was barefeet. i was crying and sobbing on the phone. my mother. bought an international calling card at walgreens. then ran to food4less. they were still open. i just cried. i didn't know what to do. it wasn't the first time that my heart started breaking. but it was the first time that i was so personally affected by it.
aye, how i loved you, my prince, in the shower.
rain is washing away my memories but it's not enough.
i can't bare anything anymore. i am not complaining. i am just saying. i can't bare anything. your chewing, your breathing and drinking tea. the noises drive me crazy. your closeness is drawing me away. your love i can't shelter. i just want to turn the other way and run, run, run into the away.

wings are flashing.
i can't hear you properly
breathing
in and out
in and out
in and out
in and out

it will be okay. if i can only sing
i don't know if i ever have to meet you
again.

there is only salty water in this well.

i cannot write no more
my mind's entangled with love, traces of ghosts all over my soul
linear time system collapsed and i am engulfed in your presence
i know i shouldn't be walking these lines

i look outside the cold, burrowing my hands under the cashmere i wear
i look down my pants and boots and find no sign of familiarity with myself
i look outside the cold and hear them coming and going
music pulsating through the room - not bad - and people smoking
nobody can come close here
i am an island and you are all so distant
he is way closer than you who still live in bodies
he is way more present to me
tears try to find their way through my gorge
i swallow
people die people die, that's life
and people who love each other
desperately
sometimes have to let go

i nod my head and try to flow
try to rid my soul of this knowledge of old
that i had never loved
like that before
and no more.

i've retreated to the fact that i probably need to still go through some of this. so leave my galaxy, seek another one, this is circeling round and round like a song on repeat.
she says he is a wonderful man and you know what, i believe her.
in a way, this is great great news.
it sucks that we had to part but if it was with the result that his greatness that i saw and knew, can truly shine now, what would you want more!?
i love you
in a way

it's a different situation
when a wild child gets tames it's almost
as if you could wound up responsible for her
for the rest of your life
my heart is still yearning
but it is alright
i sit down and live with this lie
i just move on
backwards
with my eyes glued onto the sky
trying to retract some meaning
from meaningless stars

at the river bank of the danube
and the music takes me further.

it was a vacuum
and i am an artist
things are more complicated
when you die
slowly

i can see it in her eyes how much she truly loves him

maybe it makes it all good

and my heart is fluttering and waning

in the nights shared with my guitar and books

floating in a river of reminisce

down down

to where forgetting is

darker times

sometimes I am amused by the fact, that most people who get to know me probably rarely assume or consider that I indeed carry the dark side of the moon inside, like we all do. they know me as an upbeat, stand-up, positive and life-loving person.
maybe it's because i hide away, or try to do so, when i feel down, and often times i don't know who to talk to or to call, when a bout of grief or depression takes a hold of me.
this blog is called the dark side of the moon because i wanted to pay tribute to that fact. not surprisingly, i usually write more, when i feel blue, bruised inside and way heavy and down, as if my soul was weighed down, sinking into this ocean of blue and black, never reaching the ground.

i guess that writing about it, or writing through it does help. it is, as if i was talking to someone who i don't know, who can't console me with awkward words, helpless distractions or smart-ass reasonings. of course, i am lacking the embrace, the arms to hold me, but at least i can swing back and forth about all this on my little rope and maybe find a balance in doing so. it is different from writing a journal at home because of that unknown YOU out there, who by his or her free will can listen to my voice and whom i don't have to do any justice in turn. which is liberating and great and opens the gateways to encounters of a different kind.

i feel so confused, scared and angry, i have backlashes of broken hearted emotions, weird dreams, very intense ones at that, i had lice, i am scared i won't manage to do all i need to do, and i am wondering where i have been going wrong in this past year, whether or not it was a stupid idea to switch universities, i am thinking of what i have lost and gained in the process and most of all, i am trying to cope with the face of death in my life, losing my friend M. and my first love's brother P. who took his own life this summer and many more people who passed in my surroundings.

all this without someone to hold me, but with many amazing friends. just, time seems so awfully short, ticking away and i am breathlessly trying to figure out what i need to do to keep my life sane.


it isn't all that easy for me to admit to my darker emotions. i turn them into anger as a way out, get really mad at people in traffic or unfriendly people on the streets. when i stretched my pelvic muscle girdle when doing acro-yoga, i experienced a huge wave of ANGER and FRUSTRATION and DESPAIR crushing over me, as if I was hiding and holding all these emotions in there. I am so scared and angry and heart broken for God's sake. I didn't take it lightly, when D. and I broke. I didn't take anything that happened lightly and while that may be my problem, I still have to deal with it, right!

aye aye aye. vei vei vei.

stressed out

i am so stressed out, i feel it in my body, creeping through my veins, tensing up my back, pressuring my chest, filling it with tiny hick ups and sadness and sorrow.
the wind blows cold in berlin these days, i hunch my shoulders and scurry along the streets trying to maintain my breath, my peace but more than often can't piece it back together.
almost got into an accident today, cursed a lot and cried a little, smoked half a cigarette and ate half an apple, trying not to think about life and death but it s hard to do when people you love die around you and people you don't know drive like maniacs. i had a very odd dream about penises in an art performance and my lost love, my gone, shhh not to say ex, whom i tried to kiss in that said dream and who was distant and cold and very clear about that it now was him and that girl who are an item. when he left i tried to play it cool but really i wanted to scream, but it was you and me to the end, don't you remember, we were supposed to work it all out and i am thinking of that drive on PCH from Malibu back to Santa Monica when he was so freaked out what I had to think about and later it was him who let me drop into this vast ocean.
i am trying to maintain my pride, keep self pity at a minimum and make this moving on thing easier and more efficient but i guess the fact that one of my best friend's boyfriend just died doesn't make it all that much easier.
so, this is it, in the midst of trying to orient myself in a new university and a new life with many unknown factors, me in a mess, more or less, stressed out to the max and sad like a bucket of blue paint thrown against a black dreary wall.

he could probably tell that i hadn't passed the bridge all the way yet. not properly, anyways, looking back time and again, as if holding on to old songs of past rains and storms that had held my heart hostage. or who reigned it. giving birth to something new that now is meant to be old and yet is lingering within me, throbbing, silently, waiting for another day to come.

i love you i love you i love you, but who you are, i don't know anymore.

she buried her man and tears fell violently and silently as we were singing. sometimes, life is just isn't fair.

he could probably tell that i haven't passed the bridge all the way yet. we were so close during those lovely summer nights and days, spending a week of freedom together, exploring the depths and surfaces, holding on to life.

while he was breathing, breathing, trying not to die.

it is good he isn't pushing it any further, i would crack open like an almost ripened fruit but inside i would still be green, wondering, where the time had went, wondering, why he wasn't him.

winter

i am driving away through the night and the rain is knocking softly on a million doors.
i am walking away from my childhood love, leave the fallen autumn leafs behind, a pattern of red golden harmony, a swirl of memories collecting and making their way into the darkness of the wet ground.
i am walking away from my young love, leaving a trail of tears in the winds, cross the bridges and run from the fires, i face my true love in the wake of sweet mornings and then fall asleep alone.

i knew when i left how far i had already gone. the goodbyes mature, contained, stripped of their inherent magic, his little girl soft breathing beauty, waiting for sleep.
i am leaving and it is good, our summer went by and we had our moments of truth, like dew drop beads on a necklace of green shimmering blades of grass. music fills the air and my own personal stories fade into the night.

somethings just can't be told without wearing their magic out

past winters gather at the floor like puddles of melted emotions, ripe with colors and scents and moments. it was cold, and we got closer, friends came in and left their marks and my heart shrank and got wide and sacrificed.


if i could, i would hold everything back, i would give you everything, i would walk the line perfectly straight and lose myself in your eyes, your pale blue eyes, i wouldn't linger, no, no, i would patiently open my wings and wait for the winds of fate and faith lift me up and carry me to our destinations, i would wear your name on my lips like a sacred secret, i would rip my heart out and plant it in your gardens, if i only knew, if i only knew, who you were and where and if you
wouldn't be intimidated
by the true
me

tiredness washes over me
and music fills the voids
a long lonesome road this lady travels
with so many questions on her mind
and secrets tucked away neatly
in the darker corners of her mind

learning to count her blessings

and love laughter like dreams fading into the fall
it might just be that you keep walking
and walking
all alone

children lift the moments higher
touching clouds
monsters and rabbits
pirate ships and
trying so hard to please
neatly opening the pink mini bag
the pink labello
smeared around her mouth
because she hasn't found her own lips yet
the mother gently caressing her daughters hairdo
you can see how she carefully cleans the little dress with her fingers
so no crums remain
and she looks at me with these big, asking eyes.

a dishwasher in the tea room
as if he knew that i looked at him through the little window
he raises his head
and smiles at me
like the little indian boy on the train
he keeps playing the game
coming back and glancing and smiling
and it s for free

there is a lot of things that can kill a man
there are many ways to die

ray lamontagne sings empty

will i always feel this way?
so empty
so
estranged

she is sinking into the blue
the oblivion
now they are sailing away on different clouds and i am spiraling down into the middle
Oumou Sangaré
the fires have been burning so slow and rendering me speechless
i just wanted to go and fly and fall
but harvest had come and let me go
like a dry leaf
dwindeling down.
they are speaking now of the impossibilities
and the what if´s
and i couldn't agree more.
Singing with my heart
weaving the truths of the deepest possible love
into my air

child of snow

the streets whisper in secrets to me, finally. i felt like dropping down and begging. drinking clear water from a creek in dalmatia. or waking up as a child of snow in some soldier's arms in the times between.
rocking softly back and forth i hear the streets rustling, like leaves in fall. there is a moon over manhattan and my eyelids drop heavily over the cobblestones and histories past. churches are ducking away under big towering buildings that speak of loudness and consume and death to the indians.
it is hardly silent in this church and i hear my tears drop inbetween the rumbles and bumbles of the subway in the subterranean. listening to the inside thoughts stumble over each other and rush one another like the people outside the streets. slowly dwindeling down to some humming and finally a sigh. i get to see everything from a distance. the coat i fell in love with and the dresses, the ridiculous electronics and boots and pumps and everything. it all doesn't matter.
the next day i meet an old man on the street. he is buying something to eat and we smile and start a conversation that ends in his loft on broadway avenue with him playing the piano in ways that make my heart stop and us improvising music that resides inside.
he tells me stories about the origins of the blues and the stories of the many faces in the streets.

you are distant and faint now and we shared a good laugh when he asked me about you. he said, this reminds me of that joke of two jewish ladies meeting in a park. the one asks the other, how are you, and she answers with a heavy sigh. when she is asked in return, she also sighs and the other lady says, hey, i thought we agreed on not speaking of our sons again!

he said i had just such an expression when he asked me about you. i do love the roma though. and everything that reminds me of you. the visions of johanna and greenwich village, indeed.

now there is another man in another country who is not aware of anything or maybe too much. it s good to sleep.

i was a child of snow in his arms and we fell into the skies, upside down, into the skies.

it hurts more because i know i will never see you again
i can be patient with others
but you i will carry
like a stone

soldier

The murmurs of an unspoken language flooded the night and his breathing. Frog like sounds through gnashing teeth and his brother killed in Sarajewo.
The self-service stalls of wooden jewelry all across the country. You pick and pay whatever you like he says and smiles, it is a performance called trust. There is a newspaper article on him, he hands it over in his van and it is all wrinkly and you can tell he has lived with it. Later on he teaches me how to accept and not say thank you, we just are he says, that is enough. Barefoot in the creek just right below the wells. Bending down to gather water in our hollow hands and drink the sweet freshness, sweeter than any water you can find.
I see how his gaze is caressing my body, the hands of a sculptour and he knows, he can tell, when he sees it. Honey dripping off his fingers onto my skin. I writh and breath and try to open the gates of eden but it is grey still around me and silent. His hand stroking the side of my face. He holds my cheek, saying softly you need love. you don't need sex, you need love. His voice almost surprised and his embrace caring. Later he will still say goodbye to me like to a woman, recognizing in me what I haven't quite processed yet. The coffee and water and his gifts to me, so many. My songs pervade the night and pierce the silence between his few words. He was a soldier. He was a soldier. He was there.
And with his hands he can make the most beautiful creations of wood, letting it tell its story through his hands.
And his hands have ended someone else's story one day.
And his dreams are grinding and gnashing his teeth and he finds free parking every day because he was a soldier then.
The eyes of a sculptour, the heart of gold, soft like a big bear and the wisdom beyond compare. Simple he says, and points toward the now. You are my girl, in this now.

i can't describe any of this. she must love him very much and i go my ways.
the sun set over the city in a haze while the sound of the dalmatian coast lulled me to sleep.

shaken

something has happened
my heart is pierced by this pain
you have grown weary of hearing it
but your lips and your soul
looking straight through your eyes
your fighting for a life above
the ground
and in my dream i know
that you knew that all i could do was respect
but never stop loving you

i never do.

loss

she calls him with the same name as i did now.
and she is staking out her claims on a man i so loved
melancholy deep blues is fueling my night
so i go and pack up my eyes
and i run towards
the sunset
i had a friend who now is lost.
she followed her way like swallows finding their way back down to africa
she never stopped and we went our own ways
i miss her so

and i feel the urge to make it look all so pretty. to say, that it was meant that way. to say, that it's truly okay.
because, it is.
but sometimes
it just isn't.
some things just really suck the way they are.

and you could call it greed
or not letting go
or you could also call it care
because as it turns out
i really do give a fuck

sometimes

not so easy

things just haven't been gotten all that much better recently.
the weather reflects my mood: too hot and too humid, cloudy; a thunderstorm brewing at the horizons.
I am no where close to perfection in the things I love to do, I am about to lose a job that I grew to like, the economy crisis is now becoming a more tangible phenomena for me.
I just want a break for a change. I can't stand this anymore.

item

they look so good together.
and i still love his face.
know it so well.
and they look so good together.
i remember, when we were walking down the boulevard, and it was so obvious
perfect fit
people would stop and go out of their way to let us know
how beautiful we were
what a present that was
and now
little wing
fly on...

i am so sad, that my heart is breaking. the beauty of her dancing blew my mind, the rhythms swept me away in a swirl of life, breathing and exuberant joy. when i came down from those heights, slowly so, i felt for my phone and called Lilja, to see how they were doing. her man is in the hospital yet again and now needs full care, 24/7. they accepted him in the hospital only under the condition someone came to take care of him because they don't have enough staff. just imagine, what if you had no one?
and then, in a week or so, he will be staying at a hospiz.
my heart is breaking, it is crying into the skies.
how can something like this happen?
i know, i know it. and yet, it hurts beyond words when you know this person. this beautiful soul.
and so it goes. the gypsy cante taking care of the unspeakable, the realm without words.

but you are gone

listening to: Lhasa de Sela, Love Came Here.

The summer is soft outside, the leafs whispering.
love came here and never left
There is no end to this story
No final tragedy or glory
Love came here and never left

Now that my heart is open
It can't be closed or broken
Love came here and never left

Now I�ll have to live with loving you forever
Although our days of living life together
Of living life together are over

There's nothing here to throw away
I came to you in light of day
And love came here and never left.
Your gaze has settled upon a different horizon. I feel the void.
Sometimes a good friend will come by. Knock at my door. And ask about it.
And that's when I realize
Lhasa de Sela, tells it all

You told me that you'd stay with me
And shelter me forever
That was a hard promise to keep
I can't blame you for the bad weather

After all that has been said and done
I won't ask you where you're going
Don't keep in touch, I don't miss you much
Except sometimes early in the morning

Now use your silver tongue once more
There's one thing that I�d like to know
Did you ever believe the lies that you told?
Did you earn the fool's gold that you gave me?

I forgive you wanting to be free
I realize you long to wander
And I sympathize with your roving eyes
I just can't forgive your bad manners

Now use your silver tongue once more
There's one thing that I�d like to know
Did you ever believe the lies that you told?
Did you earn the fool's gold that you gave me?
Did you ever believe the lies that you told?
Did you earn the fool's gold that you gave me?

it s hard to say anything. my heart is aching in the infinte and skies are losing their meaning every day a little more. swallows are flying and i feel how i am falling upwards into the clouds.
i love you
i love you
i love you

you took my man and made him
first i thought, uh, oh, just a hairdresser
but you are successful in what you do
and full of love and light and laughter
when it comes to him
so i go ahead and kick my time
lamenting the depths of this ocean
the depths of this unknown.

sick

i feel so sick to my stomach. my heart is physically hurting and all the embarrassment i invited into my life by making myself vulnerable and pathetic is creeping in cold.
yes man. i have failed. many times actually.
and yet, it is not enough.
i will go back and torture myself with pictures i don't need to see.
with connections i should have cut off.

it is the tragedy of his fall that took my breath. i am whincing and whining at night, crying my eyes out until there is nothing left. i haven't cried like that really, since summer of 2006. the whole family, just thinking of it makes me cringe.
under this aspect i should be and am to some extend glad, that d. has n. now and seems glad. with a proper apartment, to which his parents can come visit, with all the works and no sun glasses at night no more.

our story seems so long gone and faded. lets hope, that i will never ever ever ever have to cry for him or about him the way i have cried now.

taking one's life is such a hard thing to do. in every way. hard for the remaining. so hard for the remaining. hard for the soul.

i wish i could have said anything. something. but there is no words, they fail me and i am at a loss to understand what is going on inside and outside of me.

amen.

my heart is hurting.

childlike i let myself fall, getting up again, and fall.
the magic might have whithered in the mean time, maybe you are gone.
i trust in life and get up again, yet again.
i see the moon blossoming
into the dark skies.

horn and hoof

he said i seemed overly horny and i should learn how to hide that if i wanted to be more successful with my guys.
it really dumbfunded me completely. something that i experienced as pure joy of life and moving around, being not so grown up for once and childishly playing in swings and running around came across as needy and desperate.
funny.

withdrawal

as soon as i got what i possibly wanted
i withdrew
scared to pieces

reality
i
fear

you come to me

you come to me in the dark, emerging from the velvet blue in your white shirt that i want to unbutton, your russian soul, your stomping heart.
i can see you and i know you see me. we are two lost souls in a fishbowl, waiting for more. the light is serene and fluorescent, flickering in your eyes. my boss spins the tables with good old music, and we can dance, boy can we dance, they recognize.
the air is soft now and it's daytime. my eyes get lost in focus, gazing into the green, the white, the brickstone red.
you said, jump, if that's what you really want to do, you should always do what you want to do. i jumped and swam, drifted in the current of the quiet, while you went home to sleep finally. because that's what you wanted. before, though, you squeezed my hand upon saying goodbye, i know that we could have kissed and i know why we both didn't try. we know too much. too much of the longing, the magic, that doesn't lessen the heart's pain. you let me play, like a kitten, responding in unexpected ways. boy, you knew how to move.
now you are gone, like a song and the breeze is cooling my face.
you come to me and let me dance through all the pain. you let me dance, leading me and then letting me go. and i embarked on a journey, remembering oh so vividly his face, his voice, his embrace. his love on my soul. in my body, in my soul, oh, swinging freely back and forth about him, with his curly dark hair and eyes, glowing in my heart. your gaze held my breath while i tumbled and fell into the dark, sitting stoicly in the back, watching, sleepily, how i was taken aback by the rhythm and storm.
i know who we were. two lost souls in a fishbowl. two warriors with broken hearts keeping on, keeping on.
let me caress your self and comfort you.
travelling man, stay a while, until the night is over.
i m just a station on your way
i know
i am not
your
lover

shame

in the darkness i weave threads into the fabric that nobody's supposed to see
i imagine you in all your glory of illusion, i imagine the bad and the wild and the ugly. another bed, the same room. the same voice, another body. another soul.

sometimes it's hard to come to terms with reality. with who I seem to be. with who I let myself become. who I am carving out to be. I wonder, how much respect I should pay to these phantasies. I wonder of how much a place for my own I have to look for in this world of forces that seem so unspoken of in my daily life.

I wonder if you could be or actually are someone. and then I think of my happily-ever-after married life that I am also dreaming of, and I can't decide if there is an unknown x-factor that will enter my life and merge it all together.

I am so lost for you.

change

i have changed my life and a serene and strange kind of calm came over me.
sadness now fills the gaping wound that the movie '9to5 days in porn' has ripped open all over again. driving home on my bike alongside the river under the trees and the stars helped to get two or three tears flowing, more wasn't in store for me tonight.
i am bottled up and i have been bottled up about many of my experiences in Los Angeles. There just hasn't been a proper way to reflect and express what I have lived through, seen and witnessed in those three years.
In London still, I was starting from a very healthy surrounding actually, good friends, good family and healthy healthy energy.
it got weird the moment i put my feet on the ground in New York and I started taking a look around, just as Joni Mitchell put it so beautifully in her song 'blue'

'everybody's saying, that hell's the hippest way to go, well I don't think so, but I'm gonna take a look around though'

there is a bottomless emptiness and aimlessness portrayed in many of those people who took part in 9to5 days in porn (a documentary) that i have witnessed in many people i met in LA. it is heartwrenching and despairing. i've seen bottomless pits, abysses of human nature that i will sound pathetic and two dimensional if i try to put it down in words. i have always been fascinated with remittance girl and hermes, both of whom manage to write about two topics that are very close to what is on my mind right now. remittance girl writes about sex in it's many aspects and possibilities or perversions if you will in such a way, that it almost creates a fourth dimension, a very humane and understanding portray of psychological dynamics, soul movements, if you will, behind these aspects. porn can't do that for me. it cancels out what in turn you will see in the eyes of the involved.
hermes speaks about the dark side of the moon in a way, that the glow of souls and the beauty in the darkest places glimmers and rises like a phoenix from the ashes.

i am so tired now.
i want to escape, into a place where there are no countries nor men.

crazy crazy life

my friend from youthful days has been diagnosed with cancer and has been undergoing his first chemotherapy just recently.
my good friend's boyfriend has been going through that since almost two years already, brain tumor.
and my special friend H. just called me, telling me that he found out his bullshit dad who abused him and tried to prevent him from being adopted by his fosterfamily isn't really his dad. he found old loveletters between his mom who committed suicide when he was four, and another man. she apparently had an affair until nine months prior to his birth. now he is trying to find out who his real dad is.
what a burden just has been lifted off his shoulders, you probably won't be able to understand. not to have to carry the genetical heritage of this truly sick man is such a relief. nevermind trying to forgive your own father for all the horrible things he has done onto you.
what a burden has just been materialized in form of cancer in my other friend's life i and nobody who hasn't been going through this, probably won't understand.
it is so sad, that it presses my heart into a clump in my stomach.
like a stone
like a stone
so heavy and hard.

truck ran over me

i am waking up and i feel like a truck ran over me. eventually i peel myself off the blankets, not before serenading B with a couple of hoarsely sung morning songs to motivate. the motivation bit doesn't really work. she warms up coffee from yesterday and i try and be healthy half heartedly with a cup of hot water with lemon juice squeezed into it.
i steal some cream cheese from V for a breadroll that is lying around in the kitchen and make a bowl of cereals that i mix with hot soja milk. super disgusting.
i slouch down to the mail box to get "Die Zeit", B's newspaper which comes every thursday to read my favorite columnist's hilarious column. it ain't that funny today and my head is aching. my limbs are seriously twice as heavy as usual. i try on two dresses, same cut, different colors. decide for the lilac one after a facebook conversation with a guy whom i met via the hospitality club ages ago, from Bulgaria, and whom I haven't met ever since. life is weird.
today is a stay in bed day, most definitely. it is gray and gloomy outside.
nonetheless, i finally get out, return twice to the apartment, once to change into boots, the second time to get my phone that i forgot, the third time i ring the doorbell and have B throw me her woollen jacket down because it is freezing.
where has the summer gone!?
i should bring the keyboard to the office, i stole it, because the keypad of my laptop is broken. it s late though and i decide to go to university straight away, i have been late for this seminar all along and want to get there in time, for once.
it is truly horrific. the subway is crowded, i need way more personal space these days, i am fucking pms-ing and that's nothing to be taken lightly, i promise.
so i try to sleep and ignore the annoying conversations and 15 year old girls and all.
once i am at university i witness a dude falling with his scooter on the street, getting up and pretending as if nothing had happened. probably under shock. reminds me of the black cat that jumped off the fourth floor yesterday, across the street. B and I had a romantic little moment in the wintergarden, enjoying MJ (since I became a fan now too) and some wine. the cat fell flat on his side and lay there as if dead. two guys and we were just super shocked, then the cat starting twitching. i yelled into the night 'hey, fourth floor, get out to the balcony!' the girls living there heard me, ran out and down the stairs. the cat jumped up, when they opened the door and RAN away, but so fast, you wouldn't believe it!
so i get to university and realize, that the very seminar i am always late for is not happening today.

geez. confused people are late usually, and when they are not, they most probably have missed an announcement saying that they don't have to come at all.

such is life. i should stop writing now and start studying for my statistics class.
lordy lordy

good lord

good lord, this is painful, just to support all those lousy falshbacks i've been having i had to go back to that page, to check if i could see something that proves his existence. indeed, there it is, a picture of *them*, somewhere, probably during a hike, or chilling at a place, holding each other's hands intertwined above their heads, stretching their backs out or so it seems.
she: in a pretty SHORT red red red dress. he: in the jeans i bought him and his brown shirt.
gosh, she is so beautiful, from afar, at least, and tiny, she is doing sth with him, that he would have flat out refused to do when we were together, so i suppose she has an amazing and great influence on him.
it hurts, of course.
that it's not me, who can enjoy this, but oh well.
all that i have left is to revel in the fact, that i have loved
and re-agonize the pain of having lost.
such is life,
i guess.

Rock

I met a Man
His name, Rock in the Sea
Living it, as can be.

The inspiration and energy I felt when talking to A. made a sun rise inside, I walked through the city as if to shine.
Everybody knew, everybody would see, I was love as can be.

Something similar just happened again to me. This Man I met today for the second time is probably more than twice as old than me but I know we both fell in love, crushing into the sea.
A flight of an eagle above the clouds, in the sun, souls stay young.
His eyes told me everything I needed to know, our hearts were resonating and whispering like the wind when she caresses the trees or the desert sand. Light and deep in the same time, we couldn't stop dancing, like the tide, entering and retreating from each other's private space.
I feel like struck by lightning, almost ceasing to be, this how it feels when two souls meet, intensely, but free.
You can love someone across ages, race or gender, you can love just the essence of someone, if you surrender
to the beauty
to the beauty
to the beauty

I feel my heart go boom boom boom,
Rocking hard
against my chest
.

Michael Jackson: tragedy of human condition

i am immersed in researching Michael Jackson as an artist, but also, human being, I am distraught many times and astonised at others.
I don't know, what to think of it. Whether or not take myself seriously, how to label my newfound interest in an artist whom I had thought always of some sort of freak and cheap pop star. it's quite starteling, to realize that i lived with a completely cheap and unreflected opinion on someone I didn't know as an artist nor person. The only song that I registered was the Earth Song, and maybe We are the World, obviously, since I am half German and the Earth Song was forever on the top of our charts because we are sentimental environmentalists and separate garbage since ages, before the rest of the world even learned about those issues. not that I am convinced separating garbage is the ultimate solution to the problem, oh no.
But this one exceeds so many levels. I am literally finding myself bawling watching MJ videos, watching interviews, music videos and reading anything seemingly valid that I can find to help me put this together.
I should be preparing for my history exam, instead I am contemplating Michael Jackson until 3 am. No kidding. The thing is, I feel puzzled by what all this means, on a more abstract level.
What does it say about us, about our culture, society, what does it say about the human condition, about art, about life in general. Who was this man!? Or, rather, this being?
What kind of thoughts could be spun to an end, where press stopped pressing?
What if we thought his comments to the child abuse allegations to the end...
What if we assumed he wasn't merely a freak, a psychopath, but that he maybe could have had a point when saying, that the whole world should be like this...i.e. people tucking kids in (even in their own beds, how sexual a thought!?), giving them hot milk and cookies. sure, don't forget to brush teeth. but what if we managed to really see this as not sexual? what if he wasn't sexual with them.
how horrible a thought, that this man, who had never had a life outside the stage, who loved his fans so much and already said at a young age, how he imagined them having a good time in the audience, cross-race and professions, as i heard in one of the interviews, that this man who relied so much on the energy interaction and love and appreciation extended by his fans to him and vice versa, would be accused of child molestation, and just imagine, he wasn't guilty. just imagine, he really just loved them. I guess we could call that pedo-phil as well, in the meaning of, someone who loves kids excessively.
is that healthy?
maybe not. maybe people should have the chance to grow up and be adults. but wait, what if michael jackson would have been just some dude in the Gary Indiana ghetto and never get known. How much would that have changed??? How much of who he was, tells me about his essence?

I have that feeling, that he truly was someone else. One of a kind. Encapturing the tragedy of human condition, or even, of deity. The stuff, that greek tragedies and myths are about. The complete and utter tragedy of being half god half human.

anna's song by marvin gaye

you take me on a ride
to a world
that i left behind
it makes me ache
a little
and why is his voice in my head saying sweet nothings?
i wonder if he's thinking about me, maybe right then? or maybe he doesn't.
it was more than just what it seemed in the end.

mazzy star 2

i think i am ready to paint another layer on your song

>fade into you
strange you never knew<

glad, with what i've got i stumble into your darkness. when i close my eyes and step to the window, i can hear the ocean mumble, but there is only city.
the universes that opened up to me, i will never be able to show them to you, to anyone, to whom, i wonder.
it is the utterly subjective and lonely experience of each human becoming in their darkest moments that defines who we are.
the reflections and detections in human encounters, they weave a tapestry of shimmering illusions into our strand of beauty.
but, music, it can venture into the unknown and unsaid and impossible.

time bends under your voice, flections that echo my feelings that originated in your shoe.
every step you took and every breath, - light like a bird i disappear, with nothing but a few reminisce worthy details in my bag.
there is a new morning dawning upon my soul. i hear the birds and feel the fluttering of times wings, riding the dark waves of a night that left us behind.
new faces appear and fade away, again.
there is music, that ebbs in and out, the day we bought our pots and pans.
the love that materialized in little things such as cough medicine or deoderant.
ah, how i loved you.
all the unsaid, i even loved more.
i think you are and were one of the only people i have met, who could let days and weeks pass without saying anything significant without tiring my interest or curiosity or care. it could of went on and on and on and on just like this song.

this will always be with me, i promise, i know, but it is hard to write these words even, since i am already flown so far and so away.

this is a new goodbye, a new hello, to what lies ahead.
maybe i can show him my heart

aaaaaaah

ah, god, what should i do with this energy!!!!!!
i have a huge crush, oh, uh, oh man!
that s why it s called crush because it f§$% crushes you!!!!!!!!
man !
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

yearn

it is night now and work is calling, bob dylan crooning.
i see my reflection
but more so i feel it
reverberating
from within your soul

argh

gosh. there i sit. man. argh.

i m not tired but i ve only slept 3 hours. and what now!>? geez.
wanna dance but i know it d be a bad idea.
who to follow!? the angel or the little devil right there on my left shoulder!?
f§$%&%
stupid pride that forbids me to call.
stupid thirst that makes me want to.

i just talked about that myself. how for some people that kind of encounter is so rare, that it means way more to them than to me, and now i find myself in the flucking same exact position. no straight thinking. just dumb chasing the fleeting dreams and clouds.
argh.

indeed

it is indeed really weird, to actually see it.
a piece of future cut out and catapulted back into the past.
into a dim camper, cold, and your hands on my leaving burning traces.
i turned away
all the bodies you had touched before and the ones you d touch thereafter crept into my mind and muffled my spirit.
it s just you and me now
now
you said
and
true
you were so right

you were the first person i ve ever met
with whom it was practically impossible to envision your future wife or girlfriend
i was not interested in the slightest to ever meet her
nor could i imagine this ever to end

strange how i can look at her face now
and be
okay

him again.

I will talk more about you K.
I will talk more about how paths crossed and spirals elevated life ceaselessly.
How you led me out, leaving Deep into a crispy clear snowy Berlin morning, lifetimes ago, it seems, 2005. The birds were singing, our ears were still tingeling from a long night of electronic waves crashing on board. You held my hand, lightly, the virginity of the streets as we walked down to were I lived. The brunch and the moments of no talk. Your philosophy and take on life. How you breathed the fresh air and how I knew, that I'd be alright, alright without him. That me too, I was to venture into a land full of surprise.
A light kiss only at the metro station. Light footed you disappeared. Little did I know, if ever, or at all, we'd meet any other way. But the spiral took me longer and higher, and I would have never even written fiction about you.

I will write more about Los Angeles' dirty streets later... The insanely expensive keyboard my sister bought and on which Stevie Wonder had played before.
This is all gone right now, but I feel it, all the same, beneath my skin. And I felt it with you. I know you have seen the change. And I appreciate you for that. I do.

Your hands left me in a maze. Amazed. Trying to find my way out through all the new ways and paths that they opened up to me. All the possibilities of which only very few will come to fruition.
But knowing you is such a possibility in itself already.
Punctually you have appeared in my life, quietly opening doors for me, without even knowing it. By just being you and enjoying it.
And even though you don't open up and keep the walls tight with the same smile with which I protect mine I have seen the glance in your eyes and your words that were full of wonder and surprise.
You know that I have the power to push.
And I know that you have the power to inspire.
You know that I can be, after all, very critical of art. And you know that I support you effortlessly.

There you are, boy, in the shades of the morning dawning upon our battlefield of love.
The intertwined blankets and my hair all tangled.
Your arms holding me, all of me, caressing the landscapes and honoring every cell.
Exploding the well.

sam cooke

where do they end
the smoke rings i send
....


i know you knew it.
otherwise you'd never been acting so defensively.
so it's okay i guess
we do things that are irrational
throughout our lives.

everybody around us knew too
they knew
and didn't understand why
you didn't
nobody did
why in the world i stayed
for so long

so who am i to blame anyone!?
i have to look at myself again
and ask myself, why, why
don't you do something that is good for you!?
why don't you
why don't you
why don't you
do
something that is good
for you.
.

1st of June it is

So - the big question: what could be!?
can i be straight and do what i said i would?

he called me his angel
and the answer to his prayers
and while many girls i know would have rolled their eyes at that
i knew it was true
because for me too
there was
magic
and we danced.

i missed the moment of departure
i stayed for a little too long
my elusive fairiness turned into songs
and he said, you love to sing, don't you
and i said
yes

i felt guilt all of the sudden
i felt sorry for him
i felt sorry i couldn't be
the answer to his prayers
nor his angel
but only love
would be
in a fleeting moment

thief in the sky

Carina Round
thief in the sky
and how i see it

she set everything to private
maybe
finally
and i wanted to disappear
melt into the floor of virtual reality
when i realized that she now
could watch me come
and go

like a tide
ebbing
in
and
out

my heart grows heavy every second
i see their faces
and curly hair
so young
playing music in the subway halls
with fervor and passion
so
so
so
young

she took all the place now
filled it with
demands and
i guess they call it
love
he is trying
it counts
maybe it's right
but she is not the
only
one

oh he's gone now
baby baby gone

i guess i really need a new man in my life. it sucks to fall back onto that. feel that love surge. it can't happen to me now.
see, i moved on already. it's not supposed to be that way.
don't mean so much
to me
dammit

mixed up

I can't stop thinking about you. Who I perceive you are, but like a scheme only, far away. Shadows upon my hills. And then there is your way of laughing and taking me into your big arms, all of you, it's so wide and strong and I feel safe.
I can't stop thinking about you and that really upsets me. How could I develop such feelings for a stranger, that you are, after all. Friendship runs deep, but anything else has never blossomed. I feel that it always had been just too early for anything more than just that sort of a friendship.

Then I wonder, if you are too intellectual. Why you don't play an instrument. If you are too serious. If you could ever understand my love and appreciation and my being drawn at times to the dive bars, to the dirt streets, the jazz bars and the way of blues.

But then I remember your laughter. And it makes me warm inside.

he wondered forever
what could have become of him and his music
what if he had tried harder
what if he hadn't fallen into the void
we met ten years later and were likewise fascinated
I was taken by the fact that my hero from long gone days was so tangible and real all of the sudden
He was taken by the fact that this woman that I had become once had had a crush on him, personally as well as musically
We met at the opposite ends and did not realize the distance inbetween
at night he touched my hips almost as if acidentally and he showed me the songs he had recorded, sometimes he also would listen
his mannerisms and little quirks were 33 years old and his stories never new
almost embarrassed for his insecurities I tried to get away from him
his car got towed because of me and he came back in december
my life exploded and I started to show him my cold shoulder for lack of courage to tell him the truth

that I really really just couldn't stand his mask and his searching

old fashioned dream

Lost in some old fashioned dream
holding together the past and me
where I stand is dark and I try to let go
who I was before
...
returning to the scene
returning to the ways that had carved themselves into my soul
she was upset, naturally, marking her territory like fundamental settlers in the Jordan land. I just knew that my heart was pounding like an iron fist from inside against my ribcage trying to make its way into the streets and bleed again.

it is, that I really felt so insanly much love.
it is, that I really have loved you so much.
it is, that you asking about me still means too much to me.
it was, that I was lost in some old fashioned dream.