Dienstag, 30. März 2010

in between dreams...

[nice album, should listen to it more often]

and in between lil' earthquakes and nightmares, such as:

wisdom-tooth extraction (finally, after 3 weeks of it getting on my nerves and the doctor no being able to pull it right away), jaw inflammation afterwards, 10 days of antibiotics, some weird allergic reaction to it (mean skin rash all over), hospital, now 3 days of cortisone + histamines...

in between wondering if it's all just because you miss one single "get well soon", like your body is screaming "hello: care for me", or if this is necessary to undo the last strings attached...

in between cancelling all gigs for the past weeks, yet again working, 'cause my colleague is even worse after her tooth extraction (jaw partially fractured, ouch)...

in between all of it, right now, i'm missing just one thing:

a good ol' siesta.

Freitag, 26. März 2010

sätze wie diese (iii)

heute: borges mal wieder.

"paso con lentitud, como quien viene de tan lejos que no espera llegar."

[ich schreite langsam, wie jemand, der aus solcher ferne kommt, dass er nicht erwartet anzukommen.]



way too early

by some neighbor's music
or my wisdom-


the wound
that remains
hurting still
and again

i guess, i just miss

get well soon

Donnerstag, 25. März 2010

sätze wie diese (ii)

heute: j.l. borges.

"como quien vuelve de un perdido prado yo volví de tu abrazo.
como quien vuelve de un país de espadas yo volví de tus lágrimas."

[wie man von einer verlorenen wiese heimkehrt, kam ich zurück aus deiner umarmung.
wie man aus einem degenland heimkehrt, kam ich aus deinen tränen.]


Dienstag, 23. März 2010

sätze wie diese (i)

heute: luis cernuda.

"tu justificas mi existencia: si no te conozco no he vivido, si muero sin conocerte, no muero, porque no he vivido."

[du rechtfertigst meine existenz: wenn ich dich nicht kenne, lebe ich nicht, wenn ich sterbe, ohne dich zu kennen, sterbe ich nicht, denn dann habe ich nie gelebt.]


Freitag, 12. März 2010

nie wieder.

nicht in diesem leben.

und seither schleicht die zeit zeitlos schwer durch die gänge wie ein nicht enden wollender schwüler sommer. ich bin dankbar für den regen. und habe plötzlich eine dunkle ahnung von der ewigkeit.


[einer antwort]

das tier in dir
ruht, zahm
in meinen armen
mit einem gewissen
zwischen den lippen
atmest du
mir deine seele
ein, moment ewigkeit
zwischen zwei



the animal within you
rests, tame
in my arms
with a conscience
between the lips
you are breathing
me your soul in -
to one moment eternity
between two

in memoriam

[nach dem lesen von borges]

die zeit vergeht
das echo verhallt
in die stille hinein
fühle ich:

dies, das herz
mit dem versprechen
eines nächsten lebens

was bin ich
mehr als

in verlorenen paradiesen
hohler träume
an mich

da ich war


time goes by
echoes die
away into the silence
i feel:

this, the heart
with the promise
of a next life

what am i
more than

a wanderer
of lost paradises
a dreamer
of hollow dreams
a memory
of me

as i was

Mittwoch, 3. März 2010


okay, some might say i'm a little, just a little too young for a midlife-crisis... but seriously, i'm too old for a quarterlife-crisis, so here we go.

again. "perspectivas" - that bold printed question on my desk...


"you stopped doing what you love for a salary of 27.000 dollar a year... how long did you want to do that job, 'till you get back to doing what you love?" clooney asks.

good question. the character on screen, some 50-something guy, does not know the answer. neither do i, 30 going on 18.

this is not my dying hour, still my life flashes before my eyes...

what i loved, what i loved to do... i don't know. i don't remember. did i ever have a concept of what i wanted to do? alright, i mean: really want to do, not those crazy dreams you have when you're 13 like marrying some famous actor. did i ever have a concept?

i figure the answer is no.

maybe that's why i dropped out of university and got a job. it payed the bills. gave some kind of security where i felt there was none.

yeah, that's the bitch: security.

and today... i check my life's account - and it's out of balance. security - yes. but happiness? i don't know.

alright, seeing your lover go never is setting the picture exactly straight.

but: what is the big picture anyways?

i see none. if you ask me: where do you picture yourself in 5 years? the answer would be: doing the same as i do now. and in 10 years: i don't know. doing the same i do now?

i should feel lucky to have the job i got and the opportunity to do what i like beside that, and i do, true! but...

there's always a but.

is this me in 20 years? sitting in front of a notebook after work, typing some bullshit-diary-entry? wondering where the hell i missed the right exit to "happily ever after"?

and what would that be? what makes you happy?

someone once told me, it probably was a movie: "if you had all the money you'd ever need - what would you do? and that is exactly the thing you should go out and do then..."

yeah, but there's not all the money i'd ever need, and the stuff you like to do doesn't pay too well.

but worse than that: i don't know. what to do.

or maybe i do and it's too late... too late to study, 'cause you know the comfort of security and don't want to live of hartz IV or bafög or are simply too old to work some low-paid shit-shifts beside your studies.

maybe it's fear. i've always been afraid in the dark. if i don't know where i am. and there's just no morning-star guiding the way.

except for that bullshit-question: if you would die right know - did you do all you could?

damn, i wrote a text about that... and still don't know.

what i want to do?

sleep long.
work out.
give workshops.
write a little.
smile because of you.
do yoga.
walk at the beach.
have my neck kissed.
be with my friends.
all in one place!
publish a kick-ass novel.
or play.
laugh at it and say:
"well... you know..."
get married some sunny day.
some sunny place.
grow old.
singing songs.
at my grand children.
who recite my poetry.
and i tell them:
"well... don't take my word for it..."
laugh at my husband.
who laughs with me.
holding his hand.
in peace.

now, someone tell me: where does the money come from in this concept?



i should trash that stupid brochure laying on my desk...