I only now discovered k.d. Lang, by watching the dance performance Mazurka Fogo by Pina Bausch which Pedro Almodovar, on the other hand, used for his movie "Habla con Ella".
Wow. What a chain of incredible artists in their own right.
K.d. Lang said something about living in LA in one of the interviews I watched.
I totally agree. You are at the beach, the mountains, the desert in no time. You can keep it private if need, there are lots of trees, depending on where you live. LA is an amazing city, really.
Good for us, that not everybody gets that.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
warrior of light or: to abdict, to abstain from, to do without
Sometimes I get so caught up with daily life, emotions, burdens... and forget, what I truly want.
What it really is I am about. Just because I am curious about the dark side of the moon doesn't mean I have to go there all the way. This is a world which is tumbling alongside the edge of a deep abyss of fear and insanity. Since I am a little child I know that I am on the other side. It might sound pathetic but I really feel I want to become a warrior of light. And there are wonderful people in my life, who remind me of that. In my personal relationships I tend to gravitate towards guys who have seen the other side. The dark side of the moon. Who went there halfways or all the way. Naturally they are attracted to me too. As my dad says, dark and light attract each other to form the middle, to create colors.
I am interested in healing. In growing. In creating. I know that destruction is part of it. I know that destruction and growth have to be balanced.
But for myself, I truly want to find the middle within myself. I want to learn and excercise. I want to learn how to abdict, to abstain from, to do without. Get stronger by doing so. Start little. With sugar. Wine. Never ask of other people to do something you haven't done yourself. I will never be able to reach out the hand to someone or take a hand from someone who is reaching out to heal, if I haven't battled my own addictions yet.
And yes, I am intrigued by the life of colors and richness, the abundance. But, and this I have to say, I sympathize way stronger with figures like Gandhi. It's so easy to forget. To be comfortable in our own petty lives. Make it comfortable. Find excuses and be alright. There is nothing wrong with that. Or IS THERE!?
I am thinking of my sister's friend Alina. She is a follower of this blog. She has an amazing photo-blog, check it out.
She is someone I know, who is BURNING on both sides, because she just can't sleep. Knowing of the injustice and wound and crisis in Palestina.
I have shielded myself from many things in the past because I burnt my candle on both ends at a very young age. I suffered physically from environmental destruction and social injustice. Children being recruited to be soldiers. People "disappearing" in Argentina and many other countries.
It took a toll on my heart and it does sound pathetic but I suffered.
And I have shielded myself for a long time now. I had to, or so I thought. I came up with great explanations as to why. I had to, naturally, since I have to look into the mirror every day.
I guess, maybe, one reason was, to be able to invest in myself without dissolving into the insanity of these problems and tragedies.
But again and again I feel the time approaching in which I have to step out again.
From this shelter
this nest
and not fear
the dark side of the moon
What it really is I am about. Just because I am curious about the dark side of the moon doesn't mean I have to go there all the way. This is a world which is tumbling alongside the edge of a deep abyss of fear and insanity. Since I am a little child I know that I am on the other side. It might sound pathetic but I really feel I want to become a warrior of light. And there are wonderful people in my life, who remind me of that. In my personal relationships I tend to gravitate towards guys who have seen the other side. The dark side of the moon. Who went there halfways or all the way. Naturally they are attracted to me too. As my dad says, dark and light attract each other to form the middle, to create colors.
I am interested in healing. In growing. In creating. I know that destruction is part of it. I know that destruction and growth have to be balanced.
But for myself, I truly want to find the middle within myself. I want to learn and excercise. I want to learn how to abdict, to abstain from, to do without. Get stronger by doing so. Start little. With sugar. Wine. Never ask of other people to do something you haven't done yourself. I will never be able to reach out the hand to someone or take a hand from someone who is reaching out to heal, if I haven't battled my own addictions yet.
And yes, I am intrigued by the life of colors and richness, the abundance. But, and this I have to say, I sympathize way stronger with figures like Gandhi. It's so easy to forget. To be comfortable in our own petty lives. Make it comfortable. Find excuses and be alright. There is nothing wrong with that. Or IS THERE!?
I am thinking of my sister's friend Alina. She is a follower of this blog. She has an amazing photo-blog, check it out.
She is someone I know, who is BURNING on both sides, because she just can't sleep. Knowing of the injustice and wound and crisis in Palestina.
I have shielded myself from many things in the past because I burnt my candle on both ends at a very young age. I suffered physically from environmental destruction and social injustice. Children being recruited to be soldiers. People "disappearing" in Argentina and many other countries.
It took a toll on my heart and it does sound pathetic but I suffered.
And I have shielded myself for a long time now. I had to, or so I thought. I came up with great explanations as to why. I had to, naturally, since I have to look into the mirror every day.
I guess, maybe, one reason was, to be able to invest in myself without dissolving into the insanity of these problems and tragedies.
But again and again I feel the time approaching in which I have to step out again.
From this shelter
this nest
and not fear
the dark side of the moon
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
what i am missing is: self discipline. i learned to listen to my body so well, that sometimes i let him dictate my doings. that's real bad news to me. I realized that early today in the morning and there needs something to be done about it. I realize I have a similar lack of discipline emotionally. I so have to learn how to hold back and not just react upon my extreme emotions. There needs to be some kind of rule. Like no calling or writing before at least one day has passed after the outbreak of an emotional volcano in my soul. or such as, I can only do something after I wrote a song or painted a picture or wrote a poem about it. At least that will keep my creativity going.
I am so tired of being in-efficient and slow.
Slow is good, but only if it is your real pace and not some freaking physically dictated illusion.
On a different note: I would like to go to Cuba. I would like to be in love like I was with the pirate prince. Okay, okay, I admit, today I did feel like I wanted to be with him even. But gee. That's the whole point of the post, right, that I want to learn how to regulate these kinds of feelings.
So....later alligators!
Emeralda needs to become Piranha again for a while
I am so tired of being in-efficient and slow.
Slow is good, but only if it is your real pace and not some freaking physically dictated illusion.
On a different note: I would like to go to Cuba. I would like to be in love like I was with the pirate prince. Okay, okay, I admit, today I did feel like I wanted to be with him even. But gee. That's the whole point of the post, right, that I want to learn how to regulate these kinds of feelings.
So....later alligators!
Emeralda needs to become Piranha again for a while
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
i tried
maybe not hard enough, but look i tried.
i grew. i learned. from all this.
i learned to appreciate the qualities of the exex that i couldnt fall for. it seems lifetimes ago. way back, first round berlin.
now, see, i finally was able to feel a crush again. it was tingely and beautiful. a great guy. the kind of guy that knows how to dance, smile, cook, who worked the first year berlin from 9 to 6 and studied german at night til 9 PM.
that s the kind of guy i want to go for!
but there is this other person. popped up in my life. great conversation, great energy.
and i couldnt stop laughing yesterday when i chatted with him and found out mor about him.
yet, it made me angry, a little bit. or annoyed.
because: this is the kind of guy I am trying not to get involved with anymore.
how come those guys are drawn to me? what is it in me, that attracts them?
the ones who have lived or still live at the dark side of the moon.....
i grew. i learned. from all this.
i learned to appreciate the qualities of the exex that i couldnt fall for. it seems lifetimes ago. way back, first round berlin.
now, see, i finally was able to feel a crush again. it was tingely and beautiful. a great guy. the kind of guy that knows how to dance, smile, cook, who worked the first year berlin from 9 to 6 and studied german at night til 9 PM.
that s the kind of guy i want to go for!
but there is this other person. popped up in my life. great conversation, great energy.
and i couldnt stop laughing yesterday when i chatted with him and found out mor about him.
yet, it made me angry, a little bit. or annoyed.
because: this is the kind of guy I am trying not to get involved with anymore.
how come those guys are drawn to me? what is it in me, that attracts them?
the ones who have lived or still live at the dark side of the moon.....
Monday, March 23, 2009
dying
What makes one death worse than the other?
What makes one death more lamentable than others?
People die everyday. It's more unlikely than not to die of illness, accidents, stupidity and fatal circumstances instead of a peaceful death of the kind that you fall asleep when you are old and just never wake up again.
It is hard to say good bye. We cling onto that life. Religions have emerged from that dilemma. From the fear and from the hope for a surviving soul.
We see how frail physical life is and dream of more.
But souls die too. Sometimes more.
Calling their bodies to follow them down into the canyons of dark.
We cry upon the arriving caskets. More soldiers dead. But they signed up for it. More so than my friend who just got cancer one day and now looks like he is a dead man walking. That makes me cry. Naturally, because he is my friend. But maybe, he signed up for that too. Who knows? Who knows.
If my friend came back from combat, wrapped into a flag, I would lose my mind over it. I would lament and maybe I would become pacifist. Right now I rather would like to become a scientist and find the cure for brain tumors that keep growing.
Sometimes I feel like we are ants. Every one has a life and the right to it.
But if you don't die of war, murder, illness or accidents you still might lose your kid to drugs and violence.
Maybe you will lose yourself to drugs. Even if there is no war.
The death would still be just as horrible.
Some people die before they were born. Abortions. Miscarriages. People fight over lives. Who will inflict a burden on who.
Some people do get born, onto a trash hill and all they will ever know is their ghetto. Some others get born and discover they never really wanted to and they jump and kill themselves. Some others take people who do want to live with them.
This is a crazy world.
This is a crazy ant hill.
And sometimes I just don't know what to do.
What makes one death more lamentable than others?
People die everyday. It's more unlikely than not to die of illness, accidents, stupidity and fatal circumstances instead of a peaceful death of the kind that you fall asleep when you are old and just never wake up again.
It is hard to say good bye. We cling onto that life. Religions have emerged from that dilemma. From the fear and from the hope for a surviving soul.
We see how frail physical life is and dream of more.
But souls die too. Sometimes more.
Calling their bodies to follow them down into the canyons of dark.
We cry upon the arriving caskets. More soldiers dead. But they signed up for it. More so than my friend who just got cancer one day and now looks like he is a dead man walking. That makes me cry. Naturally, because he is my friend. But maybe, he signed up for that too. Who knows? Who knows.
If my friend came back from combat, wrapped into a flag, I would lose my mind over it. I would lament and maybe I would become pacifist. Right now I rather would like to become a scientist and find the cure for brain tumors that keep growing.
Sometimes I feel like we are ants. Every one has a life and the right to it.
But if you don't die of war, murder, illness or accidents you still might lose your kid to drugs and violence.
Maybe you will lose yourself to drugs. Even if there is no war.
The death would still be just as horrible.
Some people die before they were born. Abortions. Miscarriages. People fight over lives. Who will inflict a burden on who.
Some people do get born, onto a trash hill and all they will ever know is their ghetto. Some others get born and discover they never really wanted to and they jump and kill themselves. Some others take people who do want to live with them.
This is a crazy world.
This is a crazy ant hill.
And sometimes I just don't know what to do.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
mazzy star
There was this feeling of belonging together. The smell of tar in front of 7/11 on Santa Monica Blvd.
Our reflection bore the sign of melting into each other, four AM and the long and winding road and a heart of gold.
We were friends in crime, shopping for O-juice and sprite with only a blanket wrapped around my naked body, rocking the camper and the rich suburbian gardens, making love in the car, your fingers drawing patters on my soul.
I miss making love to you. I miss that sense of belonging. Of rocking the world together. How different that was from picking you up from Mel’s after all your other friends had left and you told me I was the only true friend you ever had as we walked up Highland from Hollywood Blvd.
It makes me cry, naturally.
Still. I think it’s strange you never knew.
I think it’s strange you never knew.
And I can’t write this to you. I can’t burden you down with this truth. With this sentimental piece of shit. This chain. That would tie your soul down just as it ties mine down, sometimes. Anchoring me to the ground. The wells of pain. Of knots in the throat. Of wild and raging hope. To rediscover. Recover. Recover the lost. The dead. The ghosts.
The moments. Retrieve the moments. Of lust. Of love. Of partnership and walking. Together. To the rhythm of our own drum.
It’s hard to breathe sometimes. The last moment of love. Flickering in the dark. It was Tony’s birthday. We were at Santa Monica beach with my family and you looked in my eyes and I felt the burn creep up my skin. I knew you felt it too. It was a deep split second that passed. We could have left them but we didn’t. You took my face into your hands but you wouldn’t come with me to the water.
I can’t call you.
Weigh you down with my voice. My longing. My loss. My love.
Our reflection bore the sign of melting into each other, four AM and the long and winding road and a heart of gold.
We were friends in crime, shopping for O-juice and sprite with only a blanket wrapped around my naked body, rocking the camper and the rich suburbian gardens, making love in the car, your fingers drawing patters on my soul.
I miss making love to you. I miss that sense of belonging. Of rocking the world together. How different that was from picking you up from Mel’s after all your other friends had left and you told me I was the only true friend you ever had as we walked up Highland from Hollywood Blvd.
It makes me cry, naturally.
Still. I think it’s strange you never knew.
I think it’s strange you never knew.
And I can’t write this to you. I can’t burden you down with this truth. With this sentimental piece of shit. This chain. That would tie your soul down just as it ties mine down, sometimes. Anchoring me to the ground. The wells of pain. Of knots in the throat. Of wild and raging hope. To rediscover. Recover. Recover the lost. The dead. The ghosts.
The moments. Retrieve the moments. Of lust. Of love. Of partnership and walking. Together. To the rhythm of our own drum.
It’s hard to breathe sometimes. The last moment of love. Flickering in the dark. It was Tony’s birthday. We were at Santa Monica beach with my family and you looked in my eyes and I felt the burn creep up my skin. I knew you felt it too. It was a deep split second that passed. We could have left them but we didn’t. You took my face into your hands but you wouldn’t come with me to the water.
I can’t call you.
Weigh you down with my voice. My longing. My loss. My love.
the hunter
So you like to be turned down she says.
I laugh, hysterically maybe, hum and haw...
Well.
I like the not so obvious. If I was breathtakingly beautiful I would enjoy looking at myself in the morning. Just pure joy of estetics. But I would probably never go for all those guys who are so obviously losing their shit over my appearance. I would go for the guys who could have anyone but truly learned to care for what is behind the facade. It would be a matter of personal survival to me.
I am not that mind blowingly pretty though. I have a different handicap: I have many talents. I am very personable. I have a lot of energy. I impress people more often than not with my skills and experiences.
This sounds so horrible just writing it out. I feel this burning disgust pressuring my chest just reading it. Hopeful to re-read this later and say, oh my gosh, I was so full of shit.
But oh well, I have reasons to say that and even though, luckily, I don't leave an impression in certain scenes and circles, it happens a lot.
I dislike people...no, I don't dislike them for that, but I lose love-interest for guys who are easily impressed with me. Who tell me how much they admire me and how amazing I am and all that stuff. People long to hear that but they want to hear it for different reasons. I don't need those kind of compliments because I am used to them. They are what 'OMG you are so BEAUTIFUL' comments are to beautiful people. It flatters, but you are annoyed that yet again, they couldn't see any further.
I like P. because he smiled and flirted with me but didn't go for me in a very obvious way. He is busy with his own heartbreak. I didn't blow his mind that much. Anyway, not enough to cover up his pain.
And I am still interested.
I fell for D. because he let me just be. His words of adoration, later on, meant everything to me. Every little compliment from his mouth meant the world to me. Because he saw right through me, in some ways, he told me not to bullshit myself and take the easy way out. He didn't say: Oh, gosh, you are so talented Piranha, you impress me more than anyone, I want to be with you. He just wanted to be with me. The real me. So it felt.
I don't want no guys who are amazed by me. As stupid as that sounds. Because for sure I want to be adored and admired by my love but there needs to be equilibrium. I just don't want to be merely satisfying someone's fantasy of being with someone LIKE me, who does this and that and that. I want to be worth it stripped bare of all those things. Not saying that character traits don't matter. Or social skills. But the way they are appreciated and consumed, does.
I laugh, hysterically maybe, hum and haw...
Well.
I like the not so obvious. If I was breathtakingly beautiful I would enjoy looking at myself in the morning. Just pure joy of estetics. But I would probably never go for all those guys who are so obviously losing their shit over my appearance. I would go for the guys who could have anyone but truly learned to care for what is behind the facade. It would be a matter of personal survival to me.
I am not that mind blowingly pretty though. I have a different handicap: I have many talents. I am very personable. I have a lot of energy. I impress people more often than not with my skills and experiences.
This sounds so horrible just writing it out. I feel this burning disgust pressuring my chest just reading it. Hopeful to re-read this later and say, oh my gosh, I was so full of shit.
But oh well, I have reasons to say that and even though, luckily, I don't leave an impression in certain scenes and circles, it happens a lot.
I dislike people...no, I don't dislike them for that, but I lose love-interest for guys who are easily impressed with me. Who tell me how much they admire me and how amazing I am and all that stuff. People long to hear that but they want to hear it for different reasons. I don't need those kind of compliments because I am used to them. They are what 'OMG you are so BEAUTIFUL' comments are to beautiful people. It flatters, but you are annoyed that yet again, they couldn't see any further.
I like P. because he smiled and flirted with me but didn't go for me in a very obvious way. He is busy with his own heartbreak. I didn't blow his mind that much. Anyway, not enough to cover up his pain.
And I am still interested.
I fell for D. because he let me just be. His words of adoration, later on, meant everything to me. Every little compliment from his mouth meant the world to me. Because he saw right through me, in some ways, he told me not to bullshit myself and take the easy way out. He didn't say: Oh, gosh, you are so talented Piranha, you impress me more than anyone, I want to be with you. He just wanted to be with me. The real me. So it felt.
I don't want no guys who are amazed by me. As stupid as that sounds. Because for sure I want to be adored and admired by my love but there needs to be equilibrium. I just don't want to be merely satisfying someone's fantasy of being with someone LIKE me, who does this and that and that. I want to be worth it stripped bare of all those things. Not saying that character traits don't matter. Or social skills. But the way they are appreciated and consumed, does.
Monday, March 16, 2009
summer 2008
the howling of the wolves
from deep down
emerging unbeknownst
ever again
I sleep like a child, waking up to my own voice
sobbing,
trying to trace the floating fragile images of a dream that is quickly
escaping my consciousness. i calm down and listen to the cold outside,
rehearsing to creep through the cracks in my windows and walls, like
ivy crawling up the walls of time.
I can hear her breathe I can touch her back she is real and she is there so I can go back to sleep.
Outside the wolves are howling
and the wind is whisteling
and the thoughts are tormenting
and the feelings are invading
and everything is in shambles and shatters and fragments
the whole of the story has slipped and broke
in thousand renditions it harms my soul
with every howl it comes closer
brings that dark moon ever so close
shivering cries in the dark
echoing in the light of it..s frowning grin
fowl scents of rotten flesh wounds
catering to their needs
hurt, hurt, hurt they scream
Johnny Cash sings hurt
I cuddle deeper into the blanket
mingle my feet with hers
think of the refuge to come
of painting to be painted
of stories to be written
of nights to be spent
alone
from deep down
emerging unbeknownst
ever again
I sleep like a child, waking up to my own voice
sobbing,
trying to trace the floating fragile images of a dream that is quickly
escaping my consciousness. i calm down and listen to the cold outside,
rehearsing to creep through the cracks in my windows and walls, like
ivy crawling up the walls of time.
I can hear her breathe I can touch her back she is real and she is there so I can go back to sleep.
Outside the wolves are howling
and the wind is whisteling
and the thoughts are tormenting
and the feelings are invading
and everything is in shambles and shatters and fragments
the whole of the story has slipped and broke
in thousand renditions it harms my soul
with every howl it comes closer
brings that dark moon ever so close
shivering cries in the dark
echoing in the light of it..s frowning grin
fowl scents of rotten flesh wounds
catering to their needs
hurt, hurt, hurt they scream
Johnny Cash sings hurt
I cuddle deeper into the blanket
mingle my feet with hers
think of the refuge to come
of painting to be painted
of stories to be written
of nights to be spent
alone
544
the morning in 544 12th street, the walk along the bluff and the bus - it was hard my breath hard to regulate your hands lying, crying, telling a truth of fading times.
- i left with the shambles of the dawn -
- i left with the shambles of the dawn -
I wake up and really don't want to.
Okay, so I get up. Straight back to working on that paper. But first, let me say this: Piranha: be aware of how much attention you give to people. Either they do it anyways, or there is something about you, but either which way, they will open up to you, invite you to look into their abyss of human condition and share with you such deep things that the next day you will feel hung over not from sweet wine but from stories that are not yours.
Okay, so I get up. Straight back to working on that paper. But first, let me say this: Piranha: be aware of how much attention you give to people. Either they do it anyways, or there is something about you, but either which way, they will open up to you, invite you to look into their abyss of human condition and share with you such deep things that the next day you will feel hung over not from sweet wine but from stories that are not yours.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
aggravation
some people just talk too much. i am so aggravated. and some talk too little.
i might be really missing out on something important here...like, refining myself, for example. but boy, I'll just suck that one up and leave it at that: can't you people just be straight for once? to the point.
say, "hey, we need to collect more money" and we'll do it. don't tell me how stressed out you are about the situation, when everybody already left and your little hints in the middle of action didn't get through to my elephant ears. I am not that sensitive really. when i am in the middle of a swirl I don't understand your eyes talking to me in silence. damnit.
the funny part is, those, who talk too much don't get it either, when I am straight.
I say, please, gentlmen, don't discuss this here and now, it's late.
What happens is, they explain me why they discuss this. I say "please, this is not the time and place" and then he says "young Germans are more interested in the superficie of paintings whereas people like us are interested in the depths."
but he really didn't see how the exhibiting artist was swaying back and forth, almost falling asleep while trying to listen to him.
i am so aggravated right now.
i might be really missing out on something important here...like, refining myself, for example. but boy, I'll just suck that one up and leave it at that: can't you people just be straight for once? to the point.
say, "hey, we need to collect more money" and we'll do it. don't tell me how stressed out you are about the situation, when everybody already left and your little hints in the middle of action didn't get through to my elephant ears. I am not that sensitive really. when i am in the middle of a swirl I don't understand your eyes talking to me in silence. damnit.
the funny part is, those, who talk too much don't get it either, when I am straight.
I say, please, gentlmen, don't discuss this here and now, it's late.
What happens is, they explain me why they discuss this. I say "please, this is not the time and place" and then he says "young Germans are more interested in the superficie of paintings whereas people like us are interested in the depths."
but he really didn't see how the exhibiting artist was swaying back and forth, almost falling asleep while trying to listen to him.
i am so aggravated right now.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
brave new day
it's weird how I woke up after only four hours of sleep. the sun just went up in that very moment and I guessed right, north is somewhat to the right of our apartment so we are not entirely facing north. we still wont get any sun shining in our faces but at least into my balcony.
i am on a ridiculous coffee or adrenaline high.
trying to write a paper but really running in the park with B in my mind. I can feel the freshness and the thump thump of our steps running next to each other.
it's hard to get back into intellectual routine, really.
the love crush has cooled down. chilli it can get, indeed, when you only try and ridicule yourself enough. it would still be interesting to find out what the truth is. there might be something about that sincerity thing his best friend told me about. he said that Germans or Berliners for that matter are more sincere than for example, his fellow Spanishmen. I wish he would just tell me something in response but maybe he really doesn't know what to say. Stating how glad I was that I met him and really didn't expect anything else to come off it was maybe too much sincerity to handle. who knows. Maybe I just should have tried to write in Spanish after all.
lol
oh, oh, brave new day.
i am on a ridiculous coffee or adrenaline high.
trying to write a paper but really running in the park with B in my mind. I can feel the freshness and the thump thump of our steps running next to each other.
it's hard to get back into intellectual routine, really.
the love crush has cooled down. chilli it can get, indeed, when you only try and ridicule yourself enough. it would still be interesting to find out what the truth is. there might be something about that sincerity thing his best friend told me about. he said that Germans or Berliners for that matter are more sincere than for example, his fellow Spanishmen. I wish he would just tell me something in response but maybe he really doesn't know what to say. Stating how glad I was that I met him and really didn't expect anything else to come off it was maybe too much sincerity to handle. who knows. Maybe I just should have tried to write in Spanish after all.
lol
oh, oh, brave new day.
Friday, March 13, 2009
broken inside
{that what makes me feel at the edge might be an ordinary inclination to a bi-polar disorder. maybe i am really just tripping. it is literally heart-wrenching to go through such intense emotions.
sometimes however, a very respected person tells me to be aware out there - that 'not many people know how to deal with such honest and raw emotions that you show'.
he says I am a friendship-person.
this might be an explanation as to why i got so hurt when they backstabbed me and why i tend to crave forgiving so quickly.}
I am broken inside. Fear's cold claws grip my heart and clench it tightly.
I fear the continuation of what promised to be oh so good.
The mind backflips. I just can't shake that cosmic blues sometimes.
Yesterday only I lay panting on her couch, trying to deal with how good of times these are. The utter mindfuck, the ultimate punch to throw me over the edge.
Living at the verge of falling and no security nets no where except for in the chimera and pipe dreams that hold me hostage when I lie paralyzed on my uncomfortable futon trying to grasp my life as it is dwindling and fading away.
The broken spasms call me to their underworld of letting go, drowneded pain and forsaken sorrows.
Listening to old, old memories of oh so meaningful love. The refuge from past wounds that just can't be mended. The impossible questions that can never be rendered nor resolved. The what if's, the maybe's and the don'ts. Her broken heart shimmering next to mine and his broken words. My strife, her loss, your lost soul wandering the fogged up world of phantasms and nitty gritty every day work.
Survival.
And new challenges that can be still lost
If I keep
letting
go
sometimes however, a very respected person tells me to be aware out there - that 'not many people know how to deal with such honest and raw emotions that you show'.
he says I am a friendship-person.
this might be an explanation as to why i got so hurt when they backstabbed me and why i tend to crave forgiving so quickly.}
I am broken inside. Fear's cold claws grip my heart and clench it tightly.
I fear the continuation of what promised to be oh so good.
The mind backflips. I just can't shake that cosmic blues sometimes.
Yesterday only I lay panting on her couch, trying to deal with how good of times these are. The utter mindfuck, the ultimate punch to throw me over the edge.
Living at the verge of falling and no security nets no where except for in the chimera and pipe dreams that hold me hostage when I lie paralyzed on my uncomfortable futon trying to grasp my life as it is dwindling and fading away.
The broken spasms call me to their underworld of letting go, drowneded pain and forsaken sorrows.
Listening to old, old memories of oh so meaningful love. The refuge from past wounds that just can't be mended. The impossible questions that can never be rendered nor resolved. The what if's, the maybe's and the don'ts. Her broken heart shimmering next to mine and his broken words. My strife, her loss, your lost soul wandering the fogged up world of phantasms and nitty gritty every day work.
Survival.
And new challenges that can be still lost
If I keep
letting
go
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
roadtripping
her pressed against the car and the wind is blowing.
thoughts of the once beloved drift and fade -
she is warm, she is real, she breathes in your hair and sighs sweet affirmations in your ear.
the sky is wide, heaven far and the vastness of the land overwhelming.
small little dirty motels remind you again but you push the thought aside and feel strangely moved as you watch her squeak happily as she drops down on the freshly made bed, spreading her legs like wings.
short and painful, the regret and the guilt, you on a roadtrip but not with the once beloved one.
it's her now
and she is warm, she is real, she breathes in your hair and presses her cheek in the dent in your chest. she lies her head on your shoulder like a child and she is a woman and she is wild.
you pull out the bottle of redemption and remind yourself why you took her along. why she took you along. why you are doing this. making up for past wounds. for twists and turns and because she has born with you.
so did the wild child
but
she is warm and she is real.
you have to forget all this. you have to let go. the wild child is happy now, wherever she goes.
thoughts of the once beloved drift and fade -
she is warm, she is real, she breathes in your hair and sighs sweet affirmations in your ear.
the sky is wide, heaven far and the vastness of the land overwhelming.
small little dirty motels remind you again but you push the thought aside and feel strangely moved as you watch her squeak happily as she drops down on the freshly made bed, spreading her legs like wings.
short and painful, the regret and the guilt, you on a roadtrip but not with the once beloved one.
it's her now
and she is warm, she is real, she breathes in your hair and presses her cheek in the dent in your chest. she lies her head on your shoulder like a child and she is a woman and she is wild.
you pull out the bottle of redemption and remind yourself why you took her along. why she took you along. why you are doing this. making up for past wounds. for twists and turns and because she has born with you.
so did the wild child
but
she is warm and she is real.
you have to forget all this. you have to let go. the wild child is happy now, wherever she goes.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
right is wrong is right is wrong is right is wrong is right is ... is?
In a way it helped me to work with loaded people. I learned to deal with it. And also, I learned to allow myself to indulge, a concept that had me guilt-ridden all along.
But, today, I read in a magazine (that I usually enjoy to read) these short interviews with people in Berlin about what they just had bought and why.
It didn't occur to me, that you don't have to be THAT loaded in order to actually buy relatively expensive clothing. Or key-chains for that matter.
A designer KEY-chain (a KEY chain!) for 81 Euros. The guy said style was important to him.
Good Lord, gracious, where do these people have that kind of money from?
How do they come to spend it that particular way?
A watch for 3600 Euros? The lady interviewed stated she didn't need a watch in particular but she really liked that one so she bought it.
SO SHE JUST BOUGHT IT.
I also just bought a nutbun today, for 1,50 Euros and one beer for 1 Euro. I mention this because it was awkward how I justified that towards myself and my friend. I said, well, I could have had a Falafel with that money, and it would have been dinner right there. But I indulged.
They fired a lady from a supermarket chain here because she took two refund tickets for deposit bottles (in the worth of about 1,30 Euros) that some customer had lost and took it for herself.
She is a mother of three with two grandchildren and had worked there for 31 years.
Her colleagues told on her.
The whole thing was taken to a higher court and today the result came out. Guilty. She can't sue that supermarket chain for firing her.
Because, if you take 1,30, 5 or 100 Euros isn't the point here. It's that you take it.
So I guess indulging in a 1,50 bun with literally no money really is just as bad and irrational as spending 3600 Euros on a watch.
I really just can't get over it.
They looked like NORMAL people. I guess I am really not normal then!
I must be really poor and broke, in fact!
It must be good for the economy also, but I wonder if there is anyone out there who has thought the thought to its very end. Does the economy really have to always grow? Isn't there some sort of way out???
It's like cancer almost.
I am really at a loss
to know
right
from
wrong
But, today, I read in a magazine (that I usually enjoy to read) these short interviews with people in Berlin about what they just had bought and why.
It didn't occur to me, that you don't have to be THAT loaded in order to actually buy relatively expensive clothing. Or key-chains for that matter.
A designer KEY-chain (a KEY chain!) for 81 Euros. The guy said style was important to him.
Good Lord, gracious, where do these people have that kind of money from?
How do they come to spend it that particular way?
A watch for 3600 Euros? The lady interviewed stated she didn't need a watch in particular but she really liked that one so she bought it.
SO SHE JUST BOUGHT IT.
I also just bought a nutbun today, for 1,50 Euros and one beer for 1 Euro. I mention this because it was awkward how I justified that towards myself and my friend. I said, well, I could have had a Falafel with that money, and it would have been dinner right there. But I indulged.
They fired a lady from a supermarket chain here because she took two refund tickets for deposit bottles (in the worth of about 1,30 Euros) that some customer had lost and took it for herself.
She is a mother of three with two grandchildren and had worked there for 31 years.
Her colleagues told on her.
The whole thing was taken to a higher court and today the result came out. Guilty. She can't sue that supermarket chain for firing her.
Because, if you take 1,30, 5 or 100 Euros isn't the point here. It's that you take it.
So I guess indulging in a 1,50 bun with literally no money really is just as bad and irrational as spending 3600 Euros on a watch.
I really just can't get over it.
They looked like NORMAL people. I guess I am really not normal then!
I must be really poor and broke, in fact!
It must be good for the economy also, but I wonder if there is anyone out there who has thought the thought to its very end. Does the economy really have to always grow? Isn't there some sort of way out???
It's like cancer almost.
I am really at a loss
to know
right
from
wrong
broke again
the new month even hasn't started yet and all the money i have for it is gone already for rent, insurance and phonebills.
great! i guess it will be the time of the year to do a 'religious' fasting ritual. I think in Christian tradition there is a fasting time from carneval time (RIGHT NOW!) until eastern. That's EXACTLY the period of time I've got to bridge to get by. I'll have some money to buy food from my assistant job, so I'll manage hopefully. With God on my side :)
Note to self: don't buy handwoven baskets in second-hand shops, don't buy food when you're out and about, don't buy, ahem, yeah, food. and no partying, but it's not like I've partied at all lately. I've been just invited to all these events. Gee. ;0)
It's also time and take a chance to start getting fit and lean and more disciplined! no more indulgent desserts in our house! hm. maybe only here and there?
:)
great! i guess it will be the time of the year to do a 'religious' fasting ritual. I think in Christian tradition there is a fasting time from carneval time (RIGHT NOW!) until eastern. That's EXACTLY the period of time I've got to bridge to get by. I'll have some money to buy food from my assistant job, so I'll manage hopefully. With God on my side :)
Note to self: don't buy handwoven baskets in second-hand shops, don't buy food when you're out and about, don't buy, ahem, yeah, food. and no partying, but it's not like I've partied at all lately. I've been just invited to all these events. Gee. ;0)
It's also time and take a chance to start getting fit and lean and more disciplined! no more indulgent desserts in our house! hm. maybe only here and there?
:)
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
hard not to
hard not to write.
her hand on his legs, barcadi bottle. soap and skin singing like a dying swan, you in my arms, my touching your soul, how it felt, how it felt, when we were.
dreams buried, in shatters and fragments. she is fucking good. damn.
he spit his venom into all directions, i asked the wrong question and suddenly i was no friend no more.
there are people who can't take a wrong step. who can't take a wrong word. who can't take a wrong question.
we are so frail and fragile against these towering walls.
we have to learn to be upset. outraged. outspoken.
it hurts. it hurts when your actions are counted like pennies and intentions don't matter at
all
some friends we just have to let go
like lovers
maybe i really just wanted
to get something out of it
her hand on his legs, barcadi bottle. soap and skin singing like a dying swan, you in my arms, my touching your soul, how it felt, how it felt, when we were.
dreams buried, in shatters and fragments. she is fucking good. damn.
he spit his venom into all directions, i asked the wrong question and suddenly i was no friend no more.
there are people who can't take a wrong step. who can't take a wrong word. who can't take a wrong question.
we are so frail and fragile against these towering walls.
we have to learn to be upset. outraged. outspoken.
it hurts. it hurts when your actions are counted like pennies and intentions don't matter at
all
some friends we just have to let go
like lovers
maybe i really just wanted
to get something out of it
Monday, February 23, 2009
competition
other than my sister I slow down when I run into competitive situations when tension hits a certain degree.
I want to be loved maybe, just the way I be.
I think maybe I let it all slide. With a veil of salty tears I swept the ashes behind my dreams and let everything down.
Too many words maybe
disguised in intentions
dreams are still swirling. Life is taking it slow with me.
And I am thinking of different situations, such as driving over the hills into the valley, those Romanian clowns at the street side, the truck and later my broken car.
I got to take it easy. Grades don't matter so much except for you need scholarships.
My natural reaction is to say: I don't need anything.
But still, I am hiding behind this screen and fear the outcome.
Too many jobs and too little capacity to go without sleep anymore.
...the way he put his hand around my face echoed inside. reverberated in my soul.
i don't know who he is but his smile pierced me like an early morning ray.
I want to be loved maybe, just the way I be.
I think maybe I let it all slide. With a veil of salty tears I swept the ashes behind my dreams and let everything down.
Too many words maybe
disguised in intentions
dreams are still swirling. Life is taking it slow with me.
And I am thinking of different situations, such as driving over the hills into the valley, those Romanian clowns at the street side, the truck and later my broken car.
I got to take it easy. Grades don't matter so much except for you need scholarships.
My natural reaction is to say: I don't need anything.
But still, I am hiding behind this screen and fear the outcome.
Too many jobs and too little capacity to go without sleep anymore.
...the way he put his hand around my face echoed inside. reverberated in my soul.
i don't know who he is but his smile pierced me like an early morning ray.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Aye!
I can't hold it back!
I am gone like the murmurs of times
past
Ah, what a sweet dust covering my soul!
Don't
you
want
to
go
for
love
I am gone like the murmurs of times
past
Ah, what a sweet dust covering my soul!
Don't
you
want
to
go
for
love
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