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.

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

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

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 :)

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...

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???

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

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.

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.

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

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...

Boredom

Boredom: I am still in love. The frozen state of being changed as the sun and more time for myself came around... I painted the whole weekend with Jeanne d'Arc, a wonderful soulmate I found here in Berlin and spent time at a lake, at an amazing exhibition of an Ethiopian Artist and went to a terrible terrible blues concert.

When I think of him while lying on Jeanne's bed, with the sun on my face and listening to her playing the piano oh so wonderfulyl I feel how I become so soft inside. So terribly terribly tender and soft, I am all softness and love and tenderness for this stranger, it is fucking weird, is it!

And whatever I say, there is always in some corner of my head he being present in my mind. Tonight, as I was biking home, along the riverside with Camilla I told her how beautiful it is to do cayaking. The silence, the sound of paddles on water... And then I realized that in the same time, as I was saying this I imagined somewhere in my stupid little brain David and me cayaking together.

Matter of fact is, that I can imagine doing all these things I love together with him. I cannot only imagine it, but I would love to do it. Of course, he is still a stranger, and maybe after a week or two I would realize that I was wrong and there is no way I can do all these things with him, but thats not the point. The point is, that with my last boyfriend I couldn't imagine spending my holidays with him, for example. Bam! There IS SOMETHING WRONG, when you don't feel like doing that, right? He kept on talking how much he would love to go on a bike trip through Scottland with me. I always felt so sorry when he talked about it but there was no way I could get enthusiastic about it. Sorry, lad, it s simply not on my way!

But for David there would have been a way to spend time. Many ways. It would have been my way then anyways, because I would have love to do that.

*sighs*

life is a bitch.

but I had a nice idea today and I think I am going to do that: My father, who insists on having a handwritten mail contact with me instead of talking on the phone, answered my letter in which I told him how much I would love to have children now by saying that artwork often can be like a child to you, too. I totally got his point and what he was trying to tell me with that.

And today I remembered that, soon after I had met David, I painted a Zimbabwian landscape. I had found the photograph on google, as I was googeling for everything I could find about Zimbabwe (i really think my heart is a dumb little fool, but in a way it s cool, because now, at least, I know a lot about a country I didn't know anything about before I met him).

So I decided that as I hate the idea that the whole thing could vanish in thin air now, as he obviously isn't going to contact me no more, I should do something about it. Writing or calling is out of question. I would feel stupid. But I can go to the police, find out where he lives and drop the painting there with a - handwritten (to honor my dad) - letter to bring this whole thing to an ending.

In the end this painting is our baby. He inspired me and I gave birth to it. It s fantastic, isnt't it...

maktub

fuck i just wrote a post on matkub and now its gone. fuck fuck fuck fuck i fucking hate it!

I am sitting here with friends, nice breakfast (well it s 1 PM now) and am being lazy. and as much as I appreciate LINUX i hate it now because I can'T use it properly and now this post is gone.

fuck

woman's days...

I took a pill in the morning because I knew it was going to hurt. I don't take aspirins, I don't take any antibiotika as long as I can avoid it but since last year I have to swallow those pills...

Blame it on Eve, I don't know. Blame it on anything, it fucking sucks. Well, blame it on me. Whenever I live a balanced life, with enough space and time to do as much sports as I want to, and have enough money to eat healthy food I don't have any problems whatsoever. I don't.
I am just lacking discipline to live the same life under stressy circumstances. I start eating crappy stuff just because I don't have time to cook good stuff out of nothing and no money to buy good stuff or, hell, go to a restaurant with good food.

My mom always told me this story that female native Americans (and I bet other native tribes as well) took 'off' so to say when they had their special days, living in an extra little house/tipi/whateva. However, as odd this might seem to us, it wasn't a punishment, exclusion or anything of that sort, no, it was a privilege. They were able to concentrate on themselves, do some arts, I don't know, gather herbs or whateva. They were allowed to have a space of their own and no stress during those days.

*sighs*

I have to go to work in a minuten because someone called sick and they need help. I feel like collapsing. When I walked up the stairs of the subway I was next to an old woman. I felt like her. It was a torture to walk the stairs up, When I arrived at home the next best thing I could do was lie down and feel miserable. I am paler than ever. I feel that the pill cannot cover all the pain. My body must feel it anyways.

Eve. *ggggrrrrrrrr*

I always wanted to live in a tribal society. fuck it! fuck our society. fuck this fucked up way of living.

the treasure at the end of the rainbow

amadeo said in a comment on my last post 'I don't have any trouble getting over my melancholy...infact I get over it so well that I make sure to savor it at the time. We flow through so many feelings I make sure I roll everyone around in my mouth for a minute.'
isn't that just an adorable and gorgeous way of putting it? I love it.
See, I feel that what I am doing is exactly this. I am so fucking surprised by my own feelings that it is actually totally exciting to wake up the next day and see what will happen and how I will feel.
I thought I indulged into my own feelings and you know, be actually pathetic and 'lackadaisicial' ... However, that doesn't seem to be true. I cannot change my feeling frozen insdide by mere power of my mind. It's just there and I have to accept that. It just happens.
And I roll it aroundin my mouth for a minimum of a minute.
I realized a few things today. The last days I have experienced EVERY DAY something totally weird, I had genuinly incredible, weird, fascinating, interesting encounters, each of which would be worth an own post, saw beautiful things and so on. Yeah, as I said before, life seems to have fun with teasing me with all of this instead of giving me what I am craving for.--- But then again...I wrote in one of my letters to D. that the reason why I think we should have met a second time is to give the reason we met a chance to show. Tonight, however, I thought the exact opposite. I thought, that the reason we met shows anyways no matter how I want it to be. 'maktub'. it is written, as the alchemist in P. Coelho's 'The Alchemist' says.
I don't think that we can judge things or overview things when we are in the middle of the process, so I don'T claim to know any of the reasons we met but I claim that there was a reason to it.
As far as I can see RIGHT NOW, after all, is that the emotions you invoked inside of me, David, made me encounter even crazier things than I did anyways already before. I look differently at the world now. It is beautiful, really. I talk to so many people, feel so intensly and there are so many stories, thoughts and considerations in my mind. And I am able to spread my love and my smiles, when I feel once again how joy is overfloating me. One might think, that circumstances you are partially to be blamed for, make me frustrated and sad and all that. They do, they do, but not in a common way. I have lots of moments I am fulfilled with joy, a very deep sort of joy I feel for life and love and people. I meet people, develop thougths, see things that make me all of the sudden incredibly blissfully happy. I look at the sky then, and feel how I am breathing, how the clouds stroke my eyes and how there is life in us... There is no black and white. There is a rainbow of feelings.

--- And at the end of the rainbow, we all do know, there is a treasure hidden..........

ONE day she was walking in all her beauty down the street when she discovered a small little restaurant with organic food. It was all beautiful, the food prepared with love, the tables decorated in such a lovely way. She had a great lunch there and felt so cosy and safe as the rain was pouring down outside in the cold summer afternoon. After a thought provoking conversation about politics and the state of the world and the western civilisation with a woman next to her in the restaurant she went to use the bathroom.

As she opened the door she saw herself in the mirror right in front of her,- totally unexpected. Slowly, trying to catch her breath she fumbled for the light switch and closed the door. It seemed like an eternity but when she felt she was safe in there she dared to throw a second glance.

There she was. IN all her beauty. Breathtaking. Her eyes so grey and green shimmered like glacier lakes today. Her turquoise earrings underlined them in a perfect matching way, her blue scarf (the one you didn't see yet) wrapped elegantly around her head allowed the viewer to focus on her beautiful eyes and face structure. Striking and distinctive it was, despite its roundness and softness. Her neck and shoulders a perfect line. A cleavage like a goddess. She was beautiful. In her fucked up tattered jeans she used when she painted, her tight jeans jacket... BEAUTIFUL, with her eyes wide open, trying to capture what they saw. They saw beauty. They saw HERSELF.

Slowly the eyes fill with tears. like a well in a moisty meadow. In a broken, overwhelmed whisper she susurrates:

'I wish you could see me like that! ----
I wish you could see me like that.'

Such a waste. such a waste.

She can't believe what she is seeing. Such a beautiful, big, proud and graciousn and tender woman she sees. So colorful, so radiant, so aspiring, so full of love, full of hope, trusting energy, loyality, creativity..... so caring, so deep, so thoughtful, concerned...

'I wish, oh how I wish you could see me like this....'

Her whispering voice makes her cry. There is nothing pretensious in her way now. She isn't feeling theatrical or like a drama queen or anything like that. She feels rather like cut out of time and space frames. It is all genuine feeling there, she can't move, she is startled almost, caught by surprise, something nails her down into the ground in front of this bathroom mirror that reflects her in a way she didn't see herself before. She suddenly sees more than she did when she merely looked inside of herself. This is different. The well is flowing...

'IT's as if I was looking at my own destiny'.

Now her reflection is all blurred, it s like saltwater pulling a veil over her head in sorrow.

'It's as if I was looking at my own destiny but I can'T get hold of it, I can't touch it because it is something I have to live, to evolve into...it's nothing I can pursue and catch but something I have to become in an unpossesive way....in a loving way that sets me free.'

...

'It's as if I was looking at my own destiny and I can't get it now because I have to become myself all what I love so much in you. I have to become what I love in you, evolve into it, grow into it, make it grow, explore...

BUT I CAN'T TOUCH YOU.'

The water reaches a tension it cannot hold. The form explodes, the tears roll down the shivering cheeks, the vellicating lips, little sobs make this earth quake.

'It's as if I was looking at my own destiny...

She haws...'...I wish, I wish I could make love to you...' ... ' but it'd be like fucking with my own destiny. And you don't do that.

You don't do that.
You don't fuck with your own destiny.
And it hurts so much...

it's such a hard and difficult process to grow up...'

Her whispers echoed in the blue(s) bathroom in which the beautiful fharsi persian women who owned that restaurant had placed flowers to make even the restroom beautiful... because beauty is what feeds our souls...

ice

I tried to cry.
It would help I guess.
But this flower didn't die. My tears watered it long before I buried my hopes. My heart skipped two seasons. From staggering and blissful and bloomy spring with oh so sweet aroma it switched to winter, freezing cold, no time for dying but slow icing up.
It hurts. It takes my breath away like chilli cold winter air did when I was a kid and woke up early in winter mornings to watch shooting stars so bright and seemingly close.


I was totally cool about it. My friends who know about the David story all asked me whether I met him this weekend. Because they knew he promised to see me this weekend. And they know I told him already twice that I am okay if it doesn't work out if he only lets me know. It s not fair the other way around. Obviously. But I was cool. I said, I didn't expect it anyways and that I guess he is kind of postponing the decision (which fucking decision though? we were just supposed to meet to put things into perspective. not to fuck dammit) and doesn't notify me assuming that he could keep me at it, by letting me wait in a vacuum.

But I am not a god damn product that you can conserve in a vacuum.

I pack my stuff and leave. I see the wonders and magic of the world, I sing songs, I meet people, I laugh, love, hate, feel, think, do. All that. Without you.

When I saw this young mother with her little boy on her lap the tears dwelled up in my eyes. I still couldn't cry but it stabbed my heart. I am so childish.

prayer/transcending love

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change
Courage to change the things I can
And the wisdom to know the difference

...

I should have hatred for you
But I do not have any
And I have always loved you
Oh you have taught me plenty
The whole time I'd never seen
All you had spread before me
The whole time I'd never seen
All I'd need was inside me
Now I feel so different
I feel so different
I feel so different
I feel so different
I feel so different

(Sinead O'Connor, 'I feel so different')


It's four years ago now that she met Olivier. They saw each other one and a half days in a little provincial town in Russia. I guess the effective time they spent together was maybe also around five hours. They walked on the frozen Wolga and sang 'Champs Elysees' as the sun was blistering in the cold. She showed him all the corners still so dear to her heart, all the streets in which she had learned how to speak russian. It was his first day in this huge melancholic country and he was heading for a very interesting and promising period of his life in which he wished to find to himself after having spent too many hours in the psychiatry and in dark corners, stoned, lost in himself.

This girl just opened all those doors for him. She introduced him in such an intimate and mind blowing way to this city which would be his home for the next months. All she did was crazy and unique and original. And he was up to it. They climbed a scaffold to watch the sunset and talked about how sex wasn't the most important thing about love. She was a virging back then, still, but of course he wouldn'T have guessed that. BUt it also didn't matter. Silently they inhaled the magic energy, saturated with setting sun rays...And they WERE, and they FELT, and I guess they KNEW...

When she left he was the last to say goodbye too. She slipped a little note into his hand and so did he and it was a fascinating moment of recognition when they realized that each had had the same idea, the same need. It was just an affirmation of what the first eyecontact had shown to him. It hadn'T shown anything to her though. I'd say it was due to her self hatred and her disbelief in what she wished most for which she had back then. With which she was constantly batteling...

She left and her heart was wide and big and pulsating like lava at the very core of volcanos. Glowing, viscous and powerful.

AS she was standing at the trainstation she suddenly heard a sound and her heart jumped right into her throat: it was him, with Steph, his friend from France, running up to her. Breathless he gasped: Djina, Djina, stay here with me. Please. I really want you to stay here. You must stay here. PLease. Please.

Shocked her mind backflipped. Zillions of possibilities what she could do. No one ever had asked her to stay in such a way before. No one had ever made the effort. The magic. Being a lunatic. Daring, risking, rebelling. Oh damn, damn, why oh why wasn't she a rebel. She always hated that about herself. She wished so much for being a rebel, a revolutionary, just like her gorgeous sister. Just like...like.... But...it all boiled down to the very somber and rational fact that she couldn't.

- At times love seems so much more intense and deep when it involves some sort of tragic. Romeo and Juliet. Tristan and Isolde. ... The tenderness they showed when they exchanged their scarfs to at least have something. The way he pressed his chewing gum in a last desperate move on the window through which she was looking with such a grief and joy in her heart she hadn't felt for a very very long time. The way they looked at each other as the train slowly left. The desperate attempt to hold it back by the mere power of eyesight and heartfelt desperate yearning for the unknown, the rediscovery...

The whole night on her way to St. Petersburg she hold on to his scarf and inhaled his odor like the most precious life giving essence....

It is blue and white. Striped.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


The mystery of this love has never vanished. The sweet mails were written in awe of what had happened. The yearning was so delicate and so lyrical and so tender and so cherishing.

It was food for her soul, shacked and tortured by her own mind. Transcendental sexual healing maybe.

The mystery and beauty of this love has never vanished because in its fragility and uniqueness it has never been conquered nor has it been defeated. It fell asleep but a few words on MSN would revive and resurrect it. Of course they wouldn'T talk about it. No, by no means. ONly reminiscing. Speaking the old magic words. The wisdom. The love. The usaid. Unwritten.

He lives in ENgland now. His English is so much better. His little stepson Leo is one of the sweetest little creatures in the world. As far as the pics show and what he tells about him every now and the. His girlfriend seems to be one courageous and strong woman. I guess she is exactly what he needed. At times they talk about how they would visit each other. None of them has made it yet. Although there was a lot talking going on about it. I guess they were both afraid of destroying it. Preservation is not progressive. It is preserving.

The mystery of this love, of this energy that was born one afternoon in 2001, march, Russia on a scaffold during a provincial town sunset never ceases.

Because they never had the chance to destroy or transform it.

So it transformed by itself but remained intact in itself. It was a moment they concquered from eternity for the price of never ever being able to retrieve it...



God grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change
Courage to change the things I can
And the wisdom to know the difference


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


of course I sometimes think that maybe we aren't supposed to meet again either.
there is still one day to live through to make this weekend complete. the weekend you were going to see me. you said I can bet on you wanting to see me again. Ewwww. I don'T bet about such things dear. I don't. It doesn'T mean any good. And indeed, it actually left a very bad feeling inside of me....but you have all the necessary facts. you know that I can be strong and help you not to cheat on your girlfriend (which you anyways did do already in a way! but i am not going to judge you on that). you know as well that I can'T take it if you don'T, at least, notify me if you change your mind or realize that you can't do that. Seeing me again. IT wouldn'T be that bad, if I hadn'T been treated like this before by someone I refer to as Mr. Asshole usually. You are NOT like him, I know that. You might have different reasons and I respect and appreciate them. I wish you have different ones. But I defended him back then, too. And I was always loyal. From day one. Tomorrow will be hard. It s so good that I work all day. It s so hurting to bury you and my hope before I even have the right or reason to do so. But I see me doing it, and I feel so sick doing it because I realize it is such an adult thing to do. A child would keep on hoping. And out of fear to being hurt too much I dig a hole already now and accomodate to the feared hypthetical facts.

However.... - I feel that this love can be transcending, too.

I should have hatred for you
But I do not have any
And I have always loved you
Oh you have taught me plenty
The whole time I'd never seen
All you had spread before me
The whole time I'd never seen
All I'd need was inside me

I ve seen it there.Today. It s there. Inside of me. And my love can be free.

Now I feel so different
I feel so different
I feel so different
I feel so different
I feel so different

oh life *sigh* don't cha think it s enough now????/PMS FOOD

bambambam BAM! incidents follow incidents. piranha is bombarded by weird happenings and gifts of life she never asked for. Here is the follow up of today:

• Haig. A guy between 40 and 50. Approaches me in the subway at a kiosk. 'Can I ask you something?' he seems slightly embarrassed and nervous. Me: 'sure!' of course I smile my piranha smile as usual. He: 'I don't know it must sound so stupid, but I somehow think you are really cool, you look so interesting and I like you for some reason.....' (does that sound familiar?) I know, I know...the normal reaction would be to raise an eyebrow and turn brusquely away, but nah, that ain't piranha style! I am too curious as to what life came up with this time as a joke or gift for me...so, me: 'well, hehe, thank you....whateva!' he:'your face is really fascinating. I bought this newspaper in the kiosk only because of you because I wasn't sure whether I would dare to talk to you...I followed you all the way here from upstairs....there is something in your face...ehe...' me, totally puzzled: 'ehehehe, you mean MY 'CHARACTER FACE' that is...hahahaha. you mean you think my face.....lol' he: 'yes, i somehow really like women with (now get this!!!) chin...there is something so expressive about it/you...'
  
  my chin....oh my god. actually, when I think hard, there hasn't been a single person I had a crush on so far who didn'T make some witty remarks about my face. the expressions range from: moon calf, smiley, to 'whenever I think of you I think of three circles which are your cheeks and (nope., not my nose!) your chin!. wah.
  
  anyways. this guy turned out to be photographer and he said that maybe we could take some photos or so. (yeah, sure, I guess you d like to do nude photos with me) He said that for some reason he really wanted to talk to me, maybe because usually the models always run after him and kind of get on his nerves and now he, as a compensation, wanted to make a move to someone he thought would be a nice model or whateva...
  Me: 'you don't have to apologize or explain for having talked to me. I think thats really courageous. It s good shot adrenalin, isn't it.' He understood and we agreed on meeting somewhen else. Ha, nobody can tell me I am NOT spontaneous!
  We exchanged contacts (yet another exception but I had a good feeling here. Of course it is possible that this guy is a whacky psycho who rapes innocent girls which he lures to his photostudio and later cuts them in pieces and stores them in his refridgerator, but I am not going to meet him somewhere lonely... and hey, this guy is middleaged white and looks like he doesn't need to do this crazy sort of thing and I really think he should be rewarded for it. Hey, I mean by reward that he gets the chance to talk to me! okay! stop thinking nasty stuff now. jesus!!! gee!!!!! But it is definetly something else than the average African like Mike (sorry Mike, you were special in your own way, but I have to admit that there was something very stereotypical in your behavior....) who takes every of my smiles as an invitation to follow me and marry me. I understand that not many people seem to smile and that it must be confusing but in the same time I refuse stopping to smile at people just because I am in a big city now. And yes, I DO give African guys a chance as well, if my feeling is allright with it. So please don'T think the decision is based on generalized prejudices.)

• Immanuel: He was from Ghana. I smiled at him in the subway. He followed me ALL the way down the street. I was looking for my bike which I had locked somewhere in this area days ago when I was too drunk and the bike got a flat tire and what not. I didn't remember where the fuck I put it. I entered a turkish supermarket to buy some cherries when I noticed him behind me. Silently he stood there, doing nothing, but waiting for something. (For me saying something???). I didn'T do anything. Just went to pay the cherries. Again he, silently behind me. Uhhhh. A soft and quiet voice asks me 'do you speak english?' Me: (acting as if surprised) 'Oh, sure!' he 'i saw you and I have interest with you' (ewwww. hmrmblfmblgrkmlstdemflefbml) He was apparently actually shy and so this accounted for him and I decided to rescue the situation by acting extremely open and laid back. We chatted a bit and of course the next best thing is he asks me for my number.
  
  See, David didn't ask me for my number until the very end. He could have asked for it when I first wanted to leave the club and we had only exchanged a few words. But he didn't (scary thought: if he hadn't been in his 'patchy' relationship, would he have been the same???) and he didn'T comply to any of the stereotypes known to me and I guess thats partially how he got me. He was just being very different, very cool and very unique.
  
  I told him that I don't do that. I can take his number but I won'T call. I am being honest, I don'T wanna raise false hopes. He still wants to give me his number. Okay *sigh* *piranha shakes her head in disbelief*. It turns out he is here since 7 years. SEVEN years, and you don'T speak German? hm. hrmblgflmflbflf. I explain him I also cannot take his number because my boyfriend (from Zimbabwe of course, aaargh, piranha you fucking fake head of a dreaming romantic) is very jealous. ha ha. good joke. *sobs*. Anyways. He is sad but I have to go. I am sorry but I am not going to play the social worker here. I am interested in interesting folks and I give a fuck about the colour of your skin. Sorry for that. BUt i know you just want to fuck me. I know it. okay, maybe you want to love me. Just as I am desperately looking for someone I can love as I thought I could love HIM. But I am not going to let you love me. I am egoistic in this point. I want to love too and I know I won'T be able to fall in love with you. You are SIMPLY NOT MY TYPE. oh, yeah, even though I smiled at you, even though you are black.
  

Something else: I feel I am entering my PMS week. Great. Now I won'T know what I really feel if I meet you. Anybody interested in how piranha's PMS like food plan looks like?

1. 1 AM: some turkish sweets, TWIX
2. noon of next day: a breakfast in a Cafe. Not that I could afford it, but there is nothing I care less about right now! A cigarette (although I don'T smoke no more!)
3. 6 PM: two chocolate bars. Two handful cherries. A piece of Pizza. Icecream.

Yeah. But I am not pregnant. It s just PMS.

Piranha likes to eat guys up when she has her PMS. Especially one certain gorgeous one.

Telephone Thing

Telephone Thing

freak freak

I just realized that I am a freak freak.

What is a freak freak?

• Someone who is not specialized in anything. Usually freaks are people who are freak in something special. A freak freak is specialized in being a freak which is an oxymoron, because it is as bad as being an egg without any contents inside. you get what I mean.
• Someone who nevertheless sticks out of the mass for some reason. But people can't exactly put the finger on what makes you a freak. They try to put you in boxes and label you and explain why you are sticking out of the mass and what it is and balbalbalba, but they find themselves at a loss doing so.
• Someone who is pissed of not being a freak in a certain area of his/her many interests but nevertheless never manages to become a freak in that area. Matter of fact, you cannot be a specialzed freak in all of the following: Dancing (well, dancing, yeah, but not in all of the different possible directions: tango, salsa, modern, jazz, expressive, afro, contact impro,...), Sports (oh yes you can be a freak of sports but not of all those good things: basketball, running, rock climbing, martial arts (capoeira, taek won do, kung fu, tai chi, ken do...), swimming, acrobatics, hiking, inlineskating, biking, street climbing, ...), Music (Oh yes, you can be a freak of music but not of all the wonderful instruments: singing, guitar, flute, piano, accordeon, drums,... bands, solo projects, djaying...), Art (oy yes you can be a freak here too! but not a freak in all of this: graffiti, painting, installation art, performance, happenings, theater, sculpturing, sewing, design, writing, directing, filming, etc), Sciences (yeah again: biology, maths, economics, blablabla, sociology, ethnology, international relations and so on), Social Issues/Politics/being an activist (that is, keeping yourself update in all the DETAILS ALWAYS on any of those issues, discussing, writing, getting into action, planning, doing projects, living your life for that...), envionmental issues (being active, making a REAL difference, committing your life to a certain task in this field, living your life totally according to your principles derived by your increased awareness of environmental issues that is...) law (ewwwww. I want to become a lawyer! But everybody I know who wants to become a lawyer too, is already now a FREAK! They know so much about law, have done internships in lawoffices, are complete NERDS and ready to do all the hard studying!!! The only person I know who is as much an artist and complete chaot as I am is Jane from Belorussia and she also wants to become a lawyer only because she wants to work for Amnesty International and save the world. haha)
  
  
  okay, I spare you the rest of the list. it goes on and on and all that I listed lies actually in my interest and I wish I was a freak in any of them but I am not. I had 'freaky' periods in my life in which I endulged in one of the abovementioned things, for example I had a rock climbing, a dancing and a basketball period (and all the other things too at some point) but unfortunately I never became a freak in any of them and thats why I am a jack of many but master of none

It sucks big time in a way but today I thought, hey, whateva! That means I am a freak freak! A human human person. I get things done by means of contact with people. I am a freak freak , an oxymoron and instead of any contents I am filled with my love and joy for life. (those, like coins, have a back side and therefore capable of transforming themselves into melancholy, sadness, and anger. but whateva.)

piranha.

freak freak that is.