Well, I think it will be lovely news to those who know me that I got the job as Administrative Assistant in the National Headquarters of the oldest cetacean conversation group in the world. :) It's relatively bad money and I could get probably a better paid job as a legal secretary or superstar, but it fits my shoe perfectly well and I am going to take the offer. I'll work on the legal secretary thing too because it will be just a side job kind of thing and very flexible which is perfect for me. That means that I am now a triple language teacher, secretary and musician in the same time. I will try and hook up with this guy who is teaching under previleged kids music for free. I could offer guitar and flute lessons....
It's funny because when I was a kid and a somebody would ask me what I would want to become later I would stubbornly stick to my dream profession to be a capitan on a Greenpeace sailing ship to save the whales and the world. Although my relationship to Greenpeace has grown old by now I think it's quite cool that I can contribute to the sysiphus efforts of trying to raise the public awareness of how important it is to protect whales and their environment, and to bring scientists, the public and public policies together.
And funnily enough the office is in San Pedro, past Long Beach. This means I ll HAVE to move around! An hour long metro ride plus a quite healthy bike ride awaits me...
I can't wait...
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
spiderweb
each of you guys out there will one day encounter PMS.
PMS, let truth be told, is a son of a bitch. Some are outreageously dangerous, when pmsing, like revengeful goddesses on a path of destruction, WITH a mission, I might add.
No matter in which variation you will encounter PMS, it is hilarious, in the end of the day.
It is a sobbing and a giggeling mess and it shifts perception like the best drugs only can. Life might suddenly make no sense whatsoever and at all and things that you usually can tolerate are intolerable, and spiderwebs everywhere.
That's just my two cents, sitting here with a towel around my head, coming from the shower where I just sobbed like there is no tomorrow and competed with the shower who can cry more waterdrops. I won and then, after the obligatory cold shower I predictably started laughing at myself like I am crazy. I am a mad woman.
- Lunatics!
unite...
PMS, let truth be told, is a son of a bitch. Some are outreageously dangerous, when pmsing, like revengeful goddesses on a path of destruction, WITH a mission, I might add.
No matter in which variation you will encounter PMS, it is hilarious, in the end of the day.
It is a sobbing and a giggeling mess and it shifts perception like the best drugs only can. Life might suddenly make no sense whatsoever and at all and things that you usually can tolerate are intolerable, and spiderwebs everywhere.
That's just my two cents, sitting here with a towel around my head, coming from the shower where I just sobbed like there is no tomorrow and competed with the shower who can cry more waterdrops. I won and then, after the obligatory cold shower I predictably started laughing at myself like I am crazy. I am a mad woman.
- Lunatics!
unite...
Monday, August 28, 2006
San Francisco and the like
Well so I feel very much like an actor who is on stage but hasn't learned his role yet. I am hyperactively jumping around or pretending to be asleepe whilst all the time trying to attentively listen to the prompter (souffleur) in the hidden parts of the stage.
What is my next line? What is my next action? Raise a fist? Caress your soul? Give a massage? Read a book? Listen to a song? Answer a phone? Not answer a phone? Procrastinate something? Cross a street? Talk to somebody who turns out to hold the next line for me, the next cue as to what to do?
The internet doesn't work properly and i get schooled in being patient.
Bob Dylan helps me along the way with a wink in his eye and I throw heaps of emotions on the floor and try to laugh at them. The best I can do.
While I am trying to feel as an actor at least and not as a mere marionette I ponder on explanations for the why's and how's of the things I do and not do.
For some weird reason evverything always has to make friggin sense to me. So I try and find out about it, I mean, whatever, a woman gotta do what a woman gotta do.
That is why I think about San Francisco and how I tasted a different life up there. It was bitter sweet and full of dreams and ideals and possibilities.
But then I decided not to go there after all. Cut it all off. I mean, if God's index finger is going to point directly to San Francisco and a thunder-like voice will growl and howl in my ear that I have to be there, voila, I will go there. I am not going to argue with the Chief in Commander. Seriously.
What did my little smart head figure out about the meaning behind things here? Behind the decision not to go to SF and surround myself with people and an environment that is actually more on my wave length than anything I've seen so far from California (which is, admittedly very little)
Well, check that out: I will stay here in the city of Lost Angels because I figured that I might as well take things more seriously and lear how to swim. To do what I really want to do no matter where is the art that I want to learn. And the best way to learn that is to stay here because this environment and these people just don't really appeal to me.
A supporting environment is good and fine and everything but actually, I have had that for all my life. After having complained so much about it I am going to tackle it now and take LA as it is and make the best out of it, on PURPOSE.
So keep updated as to how this fight will go. I will try hard.
What is my next line? What is my next action? Raise a fist? Caress your soul? Give a massage? Read a book? Listen to a song? Answer a phone? Not answer a phone? Procrastinate something? Cross a street? Talk to somebody who turns out to hold the next line for me, the next cue as to what to do?
The internet doesn't work properly and i get schooled in being patient.
Bob Dylan helps me along the way with a wink in his eye and I throw heaps of emotions on the floor and try to laugh at them. The best I can do.
While I am trying to feel as an actor at least and not as a mere marionette I ponder on explanations for the why's and how's of the things I do and not do.
For some weird reason evverything always has to make friggin sense to me. So I try and find out about it, I mean, whatever, a woman gotta do what a woman gotta do.
That is why I think about San Francisco and how I tasted a different life up there. It was bitter sweet and full of dreams and ideals and possibilities.
But then I decided not to go there after all. Cut it all off. I mean, if God's index finger is going to point directly to San Francisco and a thunder-like voice will growl and howl in my ear that I have to be there, voila, I will go there. I am not going to argue with the Chief in Commander. Seriously.
What did my little smart head figure out about the meaning behind things here? Behind the decision not to go to SF and surround myself with people and an environment that is actually more on my wave length than anything I've seen so far from California (which is, admittedly very little)
Well, check that out: I will stay here in the city of Lost Angels because I figured that I might as well take things more seriously and lear how to swim. To do what I really want to do no matter where is the art that I want to learn. And the best way to learn that is to stay here because this environment and these people just don't really appeal to me.
A supporting environment is good and fine and everything but actually, I have had that for all my life. After having complained so much about it I am going to tackle it now and take LA as it is and make the best out of it, on PURPOSE.
So keep updated as to how this fight will go. I will try hard.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
cellphones and freedom and the like
Yes I have had a cellphone ever since I got convinced by my former Boss at the four star hotel Europe in Basel, Switzerland to get one despite my inherent and vehement repulsion against such device.
You get one because you think you need one and then it needs you to need you. It becomes part of your dress code. Believe me, I've had my cellphone in the shaft of my right boot (as sported in LA) and recently in my tigh bikini-balcony-bra-like thing I wore and yes, it fitted neatly inbetween my breasts and it buzzed quit pleasantly whenever somebody tried to get a hold of me.
Funnily enough, recent developments in my behavior, however, have led to me not answering the phone all the time anymore. I've had it, to put it simple. If I don't feel like picking up when Brian calls, I won't pick up because I am in a conversation. No more 'Sorry, I have to take this!' kind of bullshit.
As if secretely manipulated from a parallel universe my phone charger started detoriating together with my cellphone attitude. First there was a crack and then it was lose and now it is broke. Great. No more charging, ha, and my phone died.
So what do you do in LA without a cellphone?
Well, let me tell you first of all: it rules all those people out who don't REALLY want to get a hold of you. Because there is always e-mail and I have to admit that having 24/7 internet access is almost as bad as having a cellphone. But I digress. Let's get back to this phenomenom: freedom.
Yesterday night I drove down Hollywood Blvd on my skateboard and caught myself touching my pockets as if my phone was in there and I wanted to make sure that I didn't miss the buzzing in case someone called. Ah! It's dead! DEAD!
And believe it or not, a feeling of relief rushed to my head. I felt so free, it was ridiculous.
I think the best solution will be to have a home phone with an answering machine. And going back to the healthy division between spontaneity and planning and keeping words and promises.
A little trust in people who will help out if you really need it.
A little more concentration on what really matters.
And a lot more freedom from needy people.
Amen
You get one because you think you need one and then it needs you to need you. It becomes part of your dress code. Believe me, I've had my cellphone in the shaft of my right boot (as sported in LA) and recently in my tigh bikini-balcony-bra-like thing I wore and yes, it fitted neatly inbetween my breasts and it buzzed quit pleasantly whenever somebody tried to get a hold of me.
Funnily enough, recent developments in my behavior, however, have led to me not answering the phone all the time anymore. I've had it, to put it simple. If I don't feel like picking up when Brian calls, I won't pick up because I am in a conversation. No more 'Sorry, I have to take this!' kind of bullshit.
As if secretely manipulated from a parallel universe my phone charger started detoriating together with my cellphone attitude. First there was a crack and then it was lose and now it is broke. Great. No more charging, ha, and my phone died.
So what do you do in LA without a cellphone?
Well, let me tell you first of all: it rules all those people out who don't REALLY want to get a hold of you. Because there is always e-mail and I have to admit that having 24/7 internet access is almost as bad as having a cellphone. But I digress. Let's get back to this phenomenom: freedom.
Yesterday night I drove down Hollywood Blvd on my skateboard and caught myself touching my pockets as if my phone was in there and I wanted to make sure that I didn't miss the buzzing in case someone called. Ah! It's dead! DEAD!
And believe it or not, a feeling of relief rushed to my head. I felt so free, it was ridiculous.
I think the best solution will be to have a home phone with an answering machine. And going back to the healthy division between spontaneity and planning and keeping words and promises.
A little trust in people who will help out if you really need it.
A little more concentration on what really matters.
And a lot more freedom from needy people.
Amen
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Mos Def - amateur star struck
Ralphs at Sunset and Fuller has been known as the "rocker's-ralphs" back in the days and even today you can spot here and there a celebrity go about their shopping - because, -surprise!- they, too, are just human beings who need to go shopping, and no, not all celebrities live like kings and queens back in the days with servants and slaves and what not but they actually DO stuff by themselves.
So does MOS DEF and as the wretched pop-culture illiterate that I've proven to be I of course did not know how he looks like. I guess I've seen pictures of him but totally forgot about it because I am bad with names, period.
As a portrait painter I memorize faces very well though which leads, however, to embarassing situations such as me telling random people on the street 'oh my god, where do I know you from? I forgot your name!' just because I watched them on the bus or so and I guess more often than I'd like to know it really comes across as a really stupid hook-up line. (matter of fact Mr. Asshole was one of those people. He thought I was playing but I was serious, and it all led to this mess which is another story though)
Well, good that I didnt' say anything to HIM for that matter because yes, he looked familiar but lets say, he just looks like someone I really could like, ya know? Like a person you see at Ralphs in the Cashier's line and you think 'holy moly, this guy really looks NICE, like a person I would like to know' *smirk* you get my drift. So I kept my mouth shut as far as stupid hook-up lines are concerned.
However, I have to admit, that I was in a really giggely mood. I just had been on Runyon Canyon with wondermazing Amanda and felt really refreshed and refueled with good energy and we were going to buy yummy food you know?
So we stand in line and I start talking shit like usual and this in a not so quiet voice 'oh no! Kate gets a divorce! man, you know Chris really looks better with a beard. Dont ya think? And anyways, I was really wondering why Jen and Vince don't get engaged yet. Really. dont you think so Amanda...'blablablablubb, my voice throbbing with sarcasm and scorn.
Amanda just stood there laughing at me while I was pretentiously making fun of the tabloids and how people are actually interested in that kind of shit (she and I know that we, too, read those tabloids in our darkest hours tee-hee! so nothing for bad fellas!) and MOS DEF was just standing right in front of me and I kinda flirted with him, smiling at him and he looked at me and smirked (HE SMIRKED!) and read sth in a little book or so. So as we are waiting I start talking even more shit like 'Oh who's that woman that was spotted at Ralphs with Amanda Zelina? is it her new guru and lalalallala'
Suddenly Amanda whispers in my ear 'he is a very famous actor'
I am like 'oh really' and start laughing. So much for celebrities. I am such an illiterate.
She thinks a little and says, 'wait, yes, he is...ahm, Mos Def'
I AM LIKE WHAT?????
I know Mos Def the musician first ya know! but i didn't know how he looks like! And I thought I'd never be star-struck but man, I didn't know it was him and I liked him just like that, you know, his persona. He is not a pretty pretty boy, ya know, he has a big nose, but he looks awesome in a different way. Like someone interesting.
When we got outside Ralphs he drove by in a pretty cool car and smiled at us. man I guess he thought I knew who he was but I so didn't. And I so did embarrass myself but unfortunately he ll probably never know that... lol
it was fun to float on a wave of star struckness for a couple of moments ;)
Ralphs, in Hollywood
So does MOS DEF and as the wretched pop-culture illiterate that I've proven to be I of course did not know how he looks like. I guess I've seen pictures of him but totally forgot about it because I am bad with names, period.
As a portrait painter I memorize faces very well though which leads, however, to embarassing situations such as me telling random people on the street 'oh my god, where do I know you from? I forgot your name!' just because I watched them on the bus or so and I guess more often than I'd like to know it really comes across as a really stupid hook-up line. (matter of fact Mr. Asshole was one of those people. He thought I was playing but I was serious, and it all led to this mess which is another story though)
Well, good that I didnt' say anything to HIM for that matter because yes, he looked familiar but lets say, he just looks like someone I really could like, ya know? Like a person you see at Ralphs in the Cashier's line and you think 'holy moly, this guy really looks NICE, like a person I would like to know' *smirk* you get my drift. So I kept my mouth shut as far as stupid hook-up lines are concerned.
However, I have to admit, that I was in a really giggely mood. I just had been on Runyon Canyon with wondermazing Amanda and felt really refreshed and refueled with good energy and we were going to buy yummy food you know?
So we stand in line and I start talking shit like usual and this in a not so quiet voice 'oh no! Kate gets a divorce! man, you know Chris really looks better with a beard. Dont ya think? And anyways, I was really wondering why Jen and Vince don't get engaged yet. Really. dont you think so Amanda...'blablablablubb, my voice throbbing with sarcasm and scorn.
Amanda just stood there laughing at me while I was pretentiously making fun of the tabloids and how people are actually interested in that kind of shit (she and I know that we, too, read those tabloids in our darkest hours tee-hee! so nothing for bad fellas!) and MOS DEF was just standing right in front of me and I kinda flirted with him, smiling at him and he looked at me and smirked (HE SMIRKED!) and read sth in a little book or so. So as we are waiting I start talking even more shit like 'Oh who's that woman that was spotted at Ralphs with Amanda Zelina? is it her new guru and lalalallala'
Suddenly Amanda whispers in my ear 'he is a very famous actor'
I am like 'oh really' and start laughing. So much for celebrities. I am such an illiterate.
She thinks a little and says, 'wait, yes, he is...ahm, Mos Def'
I AM LIKE WHAT?????
I know Mos Def the musician first ya know! but i didn't know how he looks like! And I thought I'd never be star-struck but man, I didn't know it was him and I liked him just like that, you know, his persona. He is not a pretty pretty boy, ya know, he has a big nose, but he looks awesome in a different way. Like someone interesting.
When we got outside Ralphs he drove by in a pretty cool car and smiled at us. man I guess he thought I knew who he was but I so didn't. And I so did embarrass myself but unfortunately he ll probably never know that... lol
it was fun to float on a wave of star struckness for a couple of moments ;)
Ralphs, in Hollywood
Monday, August 21, 2006
morning prayer
he said you could help a lot of hopeless people and I fell down on my knees and cried. you look at me with resignation and say fare thee well my love. where is the hope that I could have shown? shhhh, murmurs a voice, close to my heart, hush hush, lullaby. sinking into the chaotic mess of my mind I try to dig and dig and dig and find this space that is supposed to be empty and peacefully quiet but I can't find it, i can't get through!
Finally I go sleeping and my mind is upset about the disturbance, unusual one, it just won't calm down.
I can't sleep I complain and her voice is soothing and clear 'should I take a taxi and come over?' no, no sweetie, it is all good. Good night.
And then I disappear. In the morning my smile is overboardingly refreshing. I smile at myself and say hello my love and I love myself for real in that moment. in a good way. and then his voice, good morning, i love you, whispered, as if still in a dream.
I embrace the moment and let go: good morning prayer.
Finally I go sleeping and my mind is upset about the disturbance, unusual one, it just won't calm down.
I can't sleep I complain and her voice is soothing and clear 'should I take a taxi and come over?' no, no sweetie, it is all good. Good night.
And then I disappear. In the morning my smile is overboardingly refreshing. I smile at myself and say hello my love and I love myself for real in that moment. in a good way. and then his voice, good morning, i love you, whispered, as if still in a dream.
I embrace the moment and let go: good morning prayer.
it's time to...
gather the remains of this feast, of this fight, of this battleground of love and life.
I try to pack my stuff and look around: what is it, that I forgot?
Let's count the luggage and the pieces of shattered mirrors:
- A wonderful meaningful summer in Slovenia, 1997, Castle Borl
- A diploma as a manager's secretary and the feeling of utter incompetency with regards to that, lack of experience
- A wonderfully intense year at the European College of Liberal Arts in Berlin, Pankow
- Painting sessions with Bernadette, she studies medicine and islamic sciences
- Kim Koester and Kaspar and Friederike and Theresa and Bernadette in Berlin
- Dany and grounding in the middle of nowhere: finding back to myself, losing myself, finding back again
- Klodi and her wisdom
- Amanda and her wisdom
- One year of Musicians Institute
One year of nothing in front of me. I feel like a stranded captain in the middle of a vast ocean. I lost my compass and my watch too. But the stars are still there.
It's time to gather everything together and leave this battleground for a while. Find something I truly love to do.
And yes, I realized and learned that it is not necessarily for everybody just about what to DO but sometimes it is very much the environment and the people you are surrounded with that will fuel your creativity and what you do.
And to go to these places or deliberately not to go there is up to us.
I don't want to drift I need to find this place now. Where is it? I don't know.
Can you please, just, show me - one sign?
I will try and keep my eyes and my ears and my mind and my heart open.
I try to pack my stuff and look around: what is it, that I forgot?
Let's count the luggage and the pieces of shattered mirrors:
- A wonderful meaningful summer in Slovenia, 1997, Castle Borl
- A diploma as a manager's secretary and the feeling of utter incompetency with regards to that, lack of experience
- A wonderfully intense year at the European College of Liberal Arts in Berlin, Pankow
- Painting sessions with Bernadette, she studies medicine and islamic sciences
- Kim Koester and Kaspar and Friederike and Theresa and Bernadette in Berlin
- Dany and grounding in the middle of nowhere: finding back to myself, losing myself, finding back again
- Klodi and her wisdom
- Amanda and her wisdom
- One year of Musicians Institute
One year of nothing in front of me. I feel like a stranded captain in the middle of a vast ocean. I lost my compass and my watch too. But the stars are still there.
It's time to gather everything together and leave this battleground for a while. Find something I truly love to do.
And yes, I realized and learned that it is not necessarily for everybody just about what to DO but sometimes it is very much the environment and the people you are surrounded with that will fuel your creativity and what you do.
And to go to these places or deliberately not to go there is up to us.
I don't want to drift I need to find this place now. Where is it? I don't know.
Can you please, just, show me - one sign?
I will try and keep my eyes and my ears and my mind and my heart open.
Saturday, August 19, 2006
How money is spent in Hollyweird
As I stated before, in Hollywood you FAKE it when you can't make it.
Never has it occured to me, that helping people to FAKE it therefore is a great market niche for unscruplous people like yours truly naive black forest native.
Just for the heck of it I posted several different job offers on the infamous craigslist (a really great invention!) and went over my days as usual. Until this guy mails me and asks me to teach Julia Roberts' niece how to fake playing guitar.
Now this girl happens to be the Emma Roberts of the Nickelodeon series 'Unfabulous' (hever heard of it but oh well, i am a nasty pop culture illiterate) and has apparently put an entire ALBUM out already, which serves as teh soundtrack for the series.
Wait a minute, did I just say, she has an album out? yes i did. ok. I just wanted to make sure. she is fifteen or so. and she has no idea of singing or playing guitar really. it's amazing. really.
and - it is amazing how they spent 225$ on me for sitting around doing NOTHING. we sat in with her for like maybe 15 minutes all in all, going with her through three songs and then I had to be on set to stand there and motivate/encourage her.
People go like shush! hush! don't say anything wrong! lalallala, she is so great! Emma Roberrts!
And behind the doors 'oh well, just try to motivate her a little, she has a terrible voice and no sense of rhythm but yeah, lalala' and I am like 'wow, so I can't show her how to do it better?' 'no, that's what you are here for!' but then this songwriter Jill takes me to the side and says, she really can't take in so much at one day, just make her look as if...
you get the drift!
when we left i looked at Jill in a very baffled way and she laughed and said, i know, it's an unthankful job. and ridiculous.
I just shook my head. Four hours of doing nothing, free food and 225 $ as a reward for that. Not bad. This city is crazy. The industry is crazy. Those people are crazy.
lets milk crazy cows
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
blues and important continental shifitings
it is early, kinda, and i am all busy keeping my eyes open. but the blues is good. Albert King thanks for playing so beautifully!!!! Brian calls and says he's gonna get me early out of school, we were planning to go to Laguna Beach today with Amanda and i thought it was a good idea yesterday evening but now it seems less brilliant and all i want to do is play guitar all day long. Oh well, but there is definitely something to getting out of hollywood when you get the chance man. I haven't been out of here for so long. oh well.
Yesterday night Amanda called and said she'd go for a walk after having cried for one and a half hours on the phone with her parents and I asked, well do you want to go on top of the mountain, because that's what I'd do but she wanted to go drink a coffee or wine somewhere so I took my skateboard, met her half ways and went with her to the French Room to honor my wife and my lover.
So the news are: she is leaving. She will leave Hollywood and for some reason this decision shifted something inside of me and made it so much easier for me to say: okay, I am leaving too.
The thing is, I hate decisions but I have to come terms with that. I have to come to terms with my personality. If I am a fish who goes for what comes along the way, trusting that this is how it is meant to be, it is okay. So I won't bother anymore about a crazy ass cool job in a top notch international corporation law firm but try and get the job offer in San Francisco or see if there is something in New York for me so as to be closer to my sister Alexa.
Stormy monday. They call it Stormy Monday, but Tuesday's just as bad.
Staying here has been very difficult for me in terms of trying and making sense of it. I wanted to stay here for him but things worked out differently so Plan A doesn't work. My wife is coming back but I can't swim in the same river twice. I can't stay here and pretend everything is the same and cool. LA has been friendly to me and now it is time to move on.
But there is so much to do still. oh my god! Hey world, I am coming!
Yesterday night Amanda called and said she'd go for a walk after having cried for one and a half hours on the phone with her parents and I asked, well do you want to go on top of the mountain, because that's what I'd do but she wanted to go drink a coffee or wine somewhere so I took my skateboard, met her half ways and went with her to the French Room to honor my wife and my lover.
So the news are: she is leaving. She will leave Hollywood and for some reason this decision shifted something inside of me and made it so much easier for me to say: okay, I am leaving too.
The thing is, I hate decisions but I have to come terms with that. I have to come to terms with my personality. If I am a fish who goes for what comes along the way, trusting that this is how it is meant to be, it is okay. So I won't bother anymore about a crazy ass cool job in a top notch international corporation law firm but try and get the job offer in San Francisco or see if there is something in New York for me so as to be closer to my sister Alexa.
Stormy monday. They call it Stormy Monday, but Tuesday's just as bad.
Staying here has been very difficult for me in terms of trying and making sense of it. I wanted to stay here for him but things worked out differently so Plan A doesn't work. My wife is coming back but I can't swim in the same river twice. I can't stay here and pretend everything is the same and cool. LA has been friendly to me and now it is time to move on.
But there is so much to do still. oh my god! Hey world, I am coming!
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
little girl, listen to me
The most important thing, that I've learned here is probably that - surprise! surprise! - everything happens for a reason. I mean, you can lament only so much about how much of a loser you are. How you wanted to do this and that when you grow up. There is no point in whining because a rose is a rose and a tree is a tree, a brook is a brook and an ocean is an ocean and the atlantic ocean is not the pacific ocean.
Of course I admire and envy those people who already know what their path really is. I mean, those who have a path that is very obviously specific. People who are involved in great social projects, who follow their urge to help and this and that. Who make a change by being a change etc. I am not even sure whether I do that. You know? I am confused. Now, my big sister could easily say that that's exactly the point and I need to do something about that. But - well, oh well. I am on my way. Ha. It is ironic how much I've learned through this mess. It's been an extremely beautiful and introspective time and the downside of it was that I seemingly wasted a lot of money on a music school although I won't become a porfessional musician (at least that's my guess) and other than that have pretty much BEEN a loser in terms of being of help to my niece and my sister. 'My own personal little development country' as different sisters would put it similarily to each other. My oldest sister said 'well, by helping us you help the world too because of the charity work we'll do and the greater impact we'll have with a bigger voice'. I don't doubt her aspirations and admire her greatly for the work she's done. My other sister was more concerned with my niece's personal growth and health, just as I was and said, it doesn't matter whether you help one person or many, it's as important.
Little did I expect that me too, haha, needed to help me first. I need to grow up. Great. I've said that many times before. It's like losing weight, it doesn't happen in one day. If i could I would undo the damage I might have cause, I am so sorry and embarrassed for that.
Little did I know that more than my niece I would wound up trying to help my love. Which, in the end, makes more sense too because an aunt is an aunt and a lover is a lover. You know what I mean???? that was something that was bigger than we were. I hope I can catch up with my niece. Some day.
Now is the time of gathering. Pieces, lost, little girl, do you remember? Pieces, shattered in front of me, sun reflecting golden in the sherds. Reticent I am. Talking too much. Hush, lullaby. Please be careful.
Tori Amos is the biggest inspiration in terms of people in my life right now. And Amanda. And my brave little niece and her brothers. And my biggest sister in her struggle and her husband in his.
Little, girl, listen to me. This has come to you because you need to learn how to be a captn and a warrior. You need to accept that your work won't be of a specific trade but it will concern bringing different threads together, on the same table. That's it. Be careful in how you are. Your' rough edges don't need to resurface just because he's gone. Be soft and strong. As you go.
Monday, August 14, 2006
what i love
I love Tori Amos. And I love Sinead O'Connor and Tracy Chapman and Skunk Anansie and Lauryn Hill... I don't care whether or not they are lame or not. Whether there ultimate motivations are whack. Or stupid. Or whatever. People always seem to know why other people do things. They don't. They don't know. They might judge, yes, they can, and if it is up to me they can do that until they are old and all they will be able to do is to stare out a window, probably widowers, and watch and judge all day long anything that happens to happen on the street out there.
When I am old I want to laugh with children.
You can do whatever you want.
Just, don't kill cockroaches. Or flys. Or spiders.
Please.
These days especially I love Tori Amos. "Jupiter" and "sweet the sting" are in my head, I am reading about her right now ('Piece by Piece'), she is so fascinating and truly inspiring. Funnily enough she has a background that I can completely relate to, as far as I can see at least. Her native american side and her christian side. This is pretty much what I grew up with. In a probably very romantisized way and it is was her task and it will be mine to come to terms with that and find what is beneath all those layers.
"Josephine" has been haunting me since I was 17. The warm summer rain on my face when I was in his arms for the first time. The airplane to Alaska, how I looked down and thought about love. About him and failure and my heavy throbbing heart.
Juli's fucked up car. Josephine. 'Not tonight Josephine' was all I knew about the lyrics back then and that was all I wanted to know then. It was always NOT TONIGHT for me and him. Pedro. And then I grew up a little more but never enough and I arrived in Hollyweird, I see in retrospect that I have been really not much of a help to my oldest siter, I see how ridiculously not grown up I am yet. And Josephine came back to me.
As a song and as a theme and now I know what it really is about. It is about the NOT of a wonderful being coming into life.
When somebody does something that they have to do, that is their vocation and even if they are not immensely known or popular for it - if you stumble upon them and see what they are doing, persistently, consequently, you find true inspiration there.
So I will leave and I won't go down this way. I won't be another Tori Amos but I certainly will become myself.
When I am old I want to laugh with children.
You can do whatever you want.
Just, don't kill cockroaches. Or flys. Or spiders.
Please.
These days especially I love Tori Amos. "Jupiter" and "sweet the sting" are in my head, I am reading about her right now ('Piece by Piece'), she is so fascinating and truly inspiring. Funnily enough she has a background that I can completely relate to, as far as I can see at least. Her native american side and her christian side. This is pretty much what I grew up with. In a probably very romantisized way and it is was her task and it will be mine to come to terms with that and find what is beneath all those layers.
"Josephine" has been haunting me since I was 17. The warm summer rain on my face when I was in his arms for the first time. The airplane to Alaska, how I looked down and thought about love. About him and failure and my heavy throbbing heart.
Juli's fucked up car. Josephine. 'Not tonight Josephine' was all I knew about the lyrics back then and that was all I wanted to know then. It was always NOT TONIGHT for me and him. Pedro. And then I grew up a little more but never enough and I arrived in Hollyweird, I see in retrospect that I have been really not much of a help to my oldest siter, I see how ridiculously not grown up I am yet. And Josephine came back to me.
As a song and as a theme and now I know what it really is about. It is about the NOT of a wonderful being coming into life.
When somebody does something that they have to do, that is their vocation and even if they are not immensely known or popular for it - if you stumble upon them and see what they are doing, persistently, consequently, you find true inspiration there.
So I will leave and I won't go down this way. I won't be another Tori Amos but I certainly will become myself.
Friday, August 11, 2006
black and white and pink roses
It's about time to light up. The morning is sweet and the sun greeting better than coffee. I get up and stretch, hop into my jeans that I stole from my 16 year old niece -yeah! - put my notebook (the diary) and Tori Amos' book into my bag and jump on my newly-bought skateboard on my way to Miss Wonderful-light-up-my-day Amanda.
You know, it's funny how life sends you the right people on your way at the right time. I don't know what I would do without her. Seriously. She encourages and supports my take on this love, my struggle to fight the heart break and turn it, instead into an expanding heart. You know... From far away another red-haired lady helps me on my way, I am guided and nurtured and supported by those beautiful women, it is incredible. Thank You. You, up there, in there, around here. Thank you.
So I wave my hello to my friends far away and try not to kill too many people on my way down Hollywood Blvd. It is early in the day so there are not too many tourists. My still not very skilled moves on the skateboard are potentially pretty dangerous.
But fun.
At Ralphs I stop and by the pink rose. It winks at me like a witty lover and I know I have to get it to Amanda. Actually I was going for sunflowers but it's so seductive I can't say no. O-juice, one croissant, just to uphold the tradition of breakfasts and some rasberries, a plum. Ready to go. She still sleeps but her sunshine smile already flirst with the day as soon as she opens the door in her PJ's. A little later we go get coffee at terrible starbucks with the starbucks gift card that those German backpacker girls gave me as a thank you gift. As we walk by a nail/hair studio we stop, spontaneously. Pedicure for her, please, and finally, my legs should get waxed. A little pain here and there :) but smoothness just feels oh so good and the treat too.
'Lame' Jack johnson plays. I feel reminded of days that belonged only to me and me only. Yes. I move on.
You know, it's funny how life sends you the right people on your way at the right time. I don't know what I would do without her. Seriously. She encourages and supports my take on this love, my struggle to fight the heart break and turn it, instead into an expanding heart. You know... From far away another red-haired lady helps me on my way, I am guided and nurtured and supported by those beautiful women, it is incredible. Thank You. You, up there, in there, around here. Thank you.
So I wave my hello to my friends far away and try not to kill too many people on my way down Hollywood Blvd. It is early in the day so there are not too many tourists. My still not very skilled moves on the skateboard are potentially pretty dangerous.
But fun.
At Ralphs I stop and by the pink rose. It winks at me like a witty lover and I know I have to get it to Amanda. Actually I was going for sunflowers but it's so seductive I can't say no. O-juice, one croissant, just to uphold the tradition of breakfasts and some rasberries, a plum. Ready to go. She still sleeps but her sunshine smile already flirst with the day as soon as she opens the door in her PJ's. A little later we go get coffee at terrible starbucks with the starbucks gift card that those German backpacker girls gave me as a thank you gift. As we walk by a nail/hair studio we stop, spontaneously. Pedicure for her, please, and finally, my legs should get waxed. A little pain here and there :) but smoothness just feels oh so good and the treat too.
'Lame' Jack johnson plays. I feel reminded of days that belonged only to me and me only. Yes. I move on.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Full Moon
I didn't expect it, but it was a strangely comforting and warm and delicious and wonderful and candle-light awesome feeling to read obi's comment to my puppet show post. That someone watched the full moon and then went and read my post and actually enjoyed it, feels probably like this tickely feeling when your men loved the food you've been preparing for him during the whole day or something like that. I don't write to please other's really. I try to please myself and of course that's the most difficult thing to do and actually I am rarely satisfied. But other then that pleasing thing there is the 'i need to get this off my chest NOW' factor that helps me to deal with my personal issues before I plunge back into this crazy world.
I don't know. I guess I am just happy right now and I'll write later more for the satisfaction factor ;)
peace and onle luv always
Jay
I don't know. I guess I am just happy right now and I'll write later more for the satisfaction factor ;)
peace and onle luv always
Jay
Sunday, August 06, 2006
The Puppet Show
We met him on the strip on Franklin, where my wife used to go. Byrds, next to the old bookstore. The moon rose behind a thick palm tree and the clouds kissed the night sky. Chinese lounge music from the 40's. A woman's voice, trembling and heartbreaking and he let the puppet dance to it, in despair, pain, agony. With shaking hands the puppet reached out, he was shivering like in uncontrollable pain - then collapsed like a house of cards, beating his hands against his head, crouching on the floor like a desperate person reaching out for help, for a little water in the desert of our desolate souls, for bread in our overfed homes. In a dramatic final fit he threw himself against the light, it was as if I heard him crying, sobbing from that place deeply hidden in our chests and then one last look and one last fist against the imaginary sky and he sank on his back, he fell, in a final resolution, giving in to the forces that tore his life and his heart apart, facing the sky and the sky only.
Now when you looked at the puppet player while this drama happened on the little wooden table in the midst of Franklin Ave. inbetween a couple of busy bars/restaurants, with chic LA chicks and wannabe directors, you saw something even greater happening. You saw a man totally absorbed in what he was doing, compassionately guiding the marionettes moves with fingers and hands shaking ever so slightly, his eyes following the unfolding drama on the little time and space refuge he had created. The sign on the floor read: The Puppet Show - give me what you can, in coins, in bills, in old letters or even older knitters (what's that?), in dust of pockets or a stone from the street. Give me what I deserve.
Amanda and I stood in awe. He was so intriguingly involved in his creating a very profound emotional performance that he captured the innocent beauty of God's children in his hands. He looks so hot, we whispered and we meant it very profoundly not in an obscene way.
Then he changed the puppet. Now it was a big one, with a dark long coat. In her meager hands she held a cigarette and danced to the slow blues that was playing now. Every now and then she would take a drag, and then slowly blow the smoke into the sky. Inbetween drags she would cough and almost die it seemed, from the smoking and then, swinging back, look at the cigarette in her hand as if at a lover, a person you have known for so long and all you can do is look at her with forbearance and indulgence, loving, hating, an addiction that you learned to love like a husband you can't get rid off.
He would drag the smoke through a flexible tube and as he later told us, the old tube got really yellow and all in all this performance was a big turn off to smoke yet in the same time beautifully and precisely capturing the ironic beauty of smoking.
As the smoke was still curling up behind his shoulders we left. I think maybe we should invite him to sit with us I said and so we did. We went back, invited him and then sat down outside this very sweet restaurant. We had some wine and the moon looked gently down on all the people.
And the magic is still on the streets. And the beauty is still happening.
Now when you looked at the puppet player while this drama happened on the little wooden table in the midst of Franklin Ave. inbetween a couple of busy bars/restaurants, with chic LA chicks and wannabe directors, you saw something even greater happening. You saw a man totally absorbed in what he was doing, compassionately guiding the marionettes moves with fingers and hands shaking ever so slightly, his eyes following the unfolding drama on the little time and space refuge he had created. The sign on the floor read: The Puppet Show - give me what you can, in coins, in bills, in old letters or even older knitters (what's that?), in dust of pockets or a stone from the street. Give me what I deserve.
Amanda and I stood in awe. He was so intriguingly involved in his creating a very profound emotional performance that he captured the innocent beauty of God's children in his hands. He looks so hot, we whispered and we meant it very profoundly not in an obscene way.
Then he changed the puppet. Now it was a big one, with a dark long coat. In her meager hands she held a cigarette and danced to the slow blues that was playing now. Every now and then she would take a drag, and then slowly blow the smoke into the sky. Inbetween drags she would cough and almost die it seemed, from the smoking and then, swinging back, look at the cigarette in her hand as if at a lover, a person you have known for so long and all you can do is look at her with forbearance and indulgence, loving, hating, an addiction that you learned to love like a husband you can't get rid off.
He would drag the smoke through a flexible tube and as he later told us, the old tube got really yellow and all in all this performance was a big turn off to smoke yet in the same time beautifully and precisely capturing the ironic beauty of smoking.
As the smoke was still curling up behind his shoulders we left. I think maybe we should invite him to sit with us I said and so we did. We went back, invited him and then sat down outside this very sweet restaurant. We had some wine and the moon looked gently down on all the people.
And the magic is still on the streets. And the beauty is still happening.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Le Gurp
I remember when I was young. We went to South France, to this camping site called 'Le Gurp' close to Bordeaux.
Now, Bordeaux Red has always been on my top five colors and I was maybe 12 and I loved it. It was in the days of my first uncertain steps alone into this big world. I just had passed a month alone in a French Family in rural Southern France close to Toulouse where I had met Amanda. Amanda was this girl who knew German, but i lived with a family that didn't know any other language but French. I didn't even know how to ask 'why' in French and I tell ya, being a 12 year old girl in a big French Family is nothing but one huge big fat adventure.
They would talk until late (that was 9 or 10 PM lol) during dinner. The conversation flooded over my head like a tsunami, I think I couldn't really communicate until the last day but when I returned one year later I understood all of the sudden and miraculously a lot of French. It's great being a kid and learning languages like that. I think mostly we communicated body style. I remember how I learned the word 'gros' (which means fat or big) when we had a tickle fight. hahaha. Oh my. it was meant to describe my little chubby self but to be honest, I wasn't chubby at all. I have just always been big.
Anyways.
Le Gurp. We went there with Amanda's family and the second summer we went there with my two elder sisters who had been to Finland the summer before, all by themselves.
As we drove down the road to the camping site me and my brother and father were extremely excited. We leaned out the window and yelled 'Le Guuuurp! We're coming!!!!'
For some reason it was a great disappointment for me, when my sister Juli, to whom I always had looked up, found it to be 'not that overwhelmingly awesome after all'. It was as if she just had declared myself as a failure. Lol. Children.
We learned how to dance rock'n'roll there though and I studied every day Algebra with my dad. I wanted to THINK.
The black boison berries were delicious and many an hour past by with me and my mom picking berries. The stone pine trees smelled lovely and my dad got overwhelmed by diarrhea one day and had to take a shit right in front of our neighbouring camper. It was hilarious. We laughed for hours about the incident.
My brother Gawan, Amanda and I spent hours jumping down the dunes, I cut my toe and saw a boy flying his kite and I was nervous to talk to him. 12 years old.
I had a body that was fit and lean and I was all into sports and being tough. I have a picture of me with Amanda at the beach. The wind blows into our hair and we look like we are going to conquer the world.
Le Gurp and the time in North Spain in the Pyrenees (we left Le Gurp early to go there I think) is the smell of my life right now. I constantly have it in my heart for some reason. It is connected to my love and to how I am right now. To what I do. It is incredible. I don't know whether I have to go there - is it calling me? I don't know. It sure was a beautiful time. As it is now. In all its messy glory.
Let the ocean teach you...
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
gorgeous female friends
So I ask him:
Don't you like Amanda??????!!!!!
He said:
No, no, I do, like a friend I mean, but not like that you know...
I said:
WHY? HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE????
He said:
Well, everybody has a taste...
Okay, now: you have to understand. Amanda is not just anybody. She is like one of the most gorgeous-t female friends I have! She is just a blast, as a person, as a woman... you know... good inner and outer looks to put it that way. Check her website out to know what I mean (click the title of this post). And it never crossed my mind that there could be someone who wouldn't fall head over heels for this gorgeous woman!
I said:
Oh my God! Give me five!!!! :)
Because: it might be me talking cliche again, but there is something significant to the fact that my Italian friend talks like that. I know, I know, everybody would talk here like that maybe, but the difference is: he is actually really good friends with her. And something that I've been missing here a LOT, is that it just seems less conventional and normal to have a good good friend from the other sex. The idea that this is possible without an underlying, maybe hidden sexual attraction doesn't seem to exist here in the plural.
I could have jumped in his arms in that moment. It makes me plainly happy to meet someone again, who has this spirit...And his friend from Spain with whom I had been talking about his girlfriend that is going to visit him next week ALL the way from Spain, feels the same way about that issue as we do.
I am just saying....
Don't you like Amanda??????!!!!!
He said:
No, no, I do, like a friend I mean, but not like that you know...
I said:
WHY? HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE????
He said:
Well, everybody has a taste...
Okay, now: you have to understand. Amanda is not just anybody. She is like one of the most gorgeous-t female friends I have! She is just a blast, as a person, as a woman... you know... good inner and outer looks to put it that way. Check her website out to know what I mean (click the title of this post). And it never crossed my mind that there could be someone who wouldn't fall head over heels for this gorgeous woman!
I said:
Oh my God! Give me five!!!! :)
Because: it might be me talking cliche again, but there is something significant to the fact that my Italian friend talks like that. I know, I know, everybody would talk here like that maybe, but the difference is: he is actually really good friends with her. And something that I've been missing here a LOT, is that it just seems less conventional and normal to have a good good friend from the other sex. The idea that this is possible without an underlying, maybe hidden sexual attraction doesn't seem to exist here in the plural.
I could have jumped in his arms in that moment. It makes me plainly happy to meet someone again, who has this spirit...And his friend from Spain with whom I had been talking about his girlfriend that is going to visit him next week ALL the way from Spain, feels the same way about that issue as we do.
I am just saying....
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