keep on going

just trying to make it happen

schwestern

gruene Mauern, lautes Stoehnen. Wie kann man raus aus eignen Mauern? Es ist schwer, ja, manchmal fast schier unmoeglich...
Du kamst, hielst mich umfangen, mein Ruecken war warm, mein Herz verloren...
Seltsam, wie Traeume wandern.
Seltsam, wie Traeume wandeln...
Nun bist du kleiner als dein Schatten, groesser als deine Seele.
Nun hast du ein Leben, aber deine Liebe, fast verloren.
es gibt wenig Schwalben nur noch im sonnenklaren Himmelsraum und die Muecken haben sich verkrochen. Rinnsale muehseliger Muehen und vertrocknete Qualen quaelen sich die vertrockneten Huegel herunter, wie Schlangen im Staub.
leise klingen nur die Stimmen nun, sie haben sich verirrt in den verhallenden Raeumen die einst helles Glueck waren.
wolken. staub. klirrende kaelte.
in angst verdurstend wie traenen im wind.
laengst nun haben sich clowns verschoben in flickige Decken, noch schmierig vom frisch Geborenen, aber jetzt ist es verloren und ziellos driftend in Schatten und Waeldern, in Treibholz und Sand.

Das Herz liegt verloren, es ist wie ein junger Vogel, so zitternd in der Zeit.
Nur einmal oeffnest du die Ohren, - bist schon verloren an Liebe und Leid.
Aber ein Windstoss hat es davon getragen als du es naeher sehen wolltest, nur schnell durch die Finger hindurch. Ein schwacher Laut und es ist schon geschehen, wie Glas, zerbrochen, Scherben im Sand.

Eine kleine Feder nur jetzt noch, was erinnert an den grossen Versuch; aus den gruenen Mauern der Hoffnungen raus.

Das Stoehnen verklungen, der Vogel hat nur ein Lied gesungen, alles ist leer jetzt, wie ein frisch vergessner Traum.

------

du betrittst einen frisch gestrichenen Raum

there was a song

There was a song we sung, during my school days, way back in the olden days when I was young and life was short, bright and romantic.
Before reality took a hold of dreams
Before dreams could turn into reality

The chorus line went something like that:

"And you take the high road and I take the low road and I'll be in Scottland afore ye! But me and my true love will never meet again at the sunny sunny banks of Loch Lomond..."

I couldn't get it out of my head this morning.

slow but surely

drop by drop the vase gets filled. one day one drop will overflow.

klodi and I

riding down the sidewalk on Sunset Blvd. On my bike, she on the back. Coming from gorgeous Marie's little performance at Belkadi's clothing shop. Cops at the side of the street. Looking straight at us. We, since we are European, kind of freak out. YOu know how it is, how we are not allowed to ride on sidewalks with someone on the back!
Hollywood Cop: (smiling) "Hey! I've seen this on TV!"


...

lol

With your feet up high

With your feet up high, the wrong place, the wrong time, strutting around in a future that never was yours.
Sometimes I wonder. Wonder, who's idea was what, how much is mine, how much is yours?
May I be sad now? Desperate? Confused? Longing? Depressed? Aggrevated?
Nobody can consult. You know, they tried to teach you that all along, and still you linger around in a cloud of guessing. Thoughts instead of deeds and depression trickles in like blood every month again, moon, so full, clouds so shallow in the sky.
Sometimes I would say good night and nobody even knows what that means. Ever.

how I lost my bike and went dancing again...

She wasn't that old, but worn. The two girls were dressed both in light blue skirts and darker blue shirts, breaking my heart with their morning freshness after a long days work. Julius seemed to know them too, gave them some candy for free, there little three year old sister in the hospital with a desease nobody seems to know. She was certainly the complaining type, willing to share her lot with anyone willing to listen to it. In the bus the older girl was freezing in the absurd air conditioning at night. I covered her with my man's green army jacket and what else I found in my back pack, always prepared for worse weather than you'd expect in the city of lost angels.
Sophie, the five year old who looked actually like HIS daughter will look like one day, fell asleep and the Grandmother didn't know really what to do when their bus stop suddenly approached. Of course I offered my help, I have received so much good on my way that any opportunity to pay back is more than welcome to me. I carried her all the way to their house, sat down with them, played cards and ate ice cream.
They were jewish-persians, very beautiful and of course the apartment was covered in breath taking carpets. The woman talked and talked, about her Italian jerk of a husband, who left her after she had an accident and lives in Las Vegas ever since, gambling his life away. Her husband, whom she brought back to America when they deported him. Who told her that he loved her and that she was his queen. With whom she danced in the streets.
"Look at me" she complained, "I used to bike, swim, dance, I had a perfect body. Now I even can't sit straight. I want revenge. If I had known back then, that he would leave me like that, at this age, with my injury, I would have KICKED HIS ASS..."
The girls were sharp like little razors, vivid eyes and beautiful smiles. Wise little words and explanations coming out of their mouths, why their parents left the 'country of milk and honey' that the Jews, Persians and Muslims found in Iran. How the bad people took over and they had to run away in an airplane!
And whether I am Christian, Jew or Persian? German? I am just me I said, smiling. I tucked the little girl in, tickled the older one. Two little love hungry girls who can't be with their Mom who has to take care of their youngest sister. Two girls, who would need a nanny way more urgently than the two boys I am taking care of. Two girls who want to see me again.
On the way back to the bus I realized that something was missing.
My bike. Fuck. FUCK FUCK FUCK. Secretely I scolded myself for wanting to help so much. Stupid me, to forget my bike, my only means of transportation in LA, on the bike rack of the bus!
Strangely enough I wasn't too upset. I was just calm. It is what it is. I might get it back.
And I did. They found out on which bus it was, told me when it would be at the San Vicente station. I just had to wait two hours.
I know I can't describe all this appropriately beautiful, how could I explain, how happy I was to be dancing again? I had to wait almost two hours for that bus to arrive so I went to a gay club and danced as if there was no tomorrow. Oh yes, wife, you would have loved it. I had tons of fun with the gay guys, telling them about Berlin, hearing their stories. No judgement people, but gay guys sure are the safest and funnest GUYS to hang with....
It has been such a flucking long time ever since I was out the last time!
and it was so much fun! clap clap clap! yeai! That's how I love my nights: surprises surprises...In a way it was even good I didn't have any money with me....
so in the end, everything was cool.
I helped that lady.
I got my bike back
AND I got to cure my back pain with dancing without borders :) good night

people like you and me

usually we talk about shit that happened in the past, that might happen in the future, and the funny thing is when i remember right now what we did, it was talking.

aristotles was right.
when do we ever talk about something truly innovative, something that matters, something that is not just digestive?

and more important than that...when do we ever walk or our talk?
i mean....that would suck maybe.
but
doing something meaningful other than sitting around?

geez.

it came sneaking up from behind. without a surprise.

Hey, out there!
I know now, finally, what the name is of that mysterious profession I always wondered about. Since I was a kid I felt that there was that thing I was meant to do, I used to be freaked out at the thought of doing the wrong thing, scared I would miss that thing I felt I had to do. I never could think of a damn porfession, vocation, that would pinpoint that feeling...
Until recently....I suddenly realized it had been in front of my nose ALL THE TIME...except for I kept searching for it beyond the horizons...
Since it's no fun to be all blunt and unmysterious I just say so much and you guys can guess what it is!
It will be fun to read what you think it is I was meant to do in life :) LOL
LOTS OF LOVE
***

Tower Of Song

Well my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on
I'm just paying my rent every day
Oh in the Tower of Song
I said to Hank Williams: how lonely does it get?
Hank Williams hasn't answered yet
But I hear him coughing all night long
A hundred floors above me
In the Tower of Song

I was born like this, I had no choice
I was born with the gift of a golden voice
And twenty-seven angels from the Great Beyond
They tied me to this table right here
In the Tower of Song

So you can stick your little pins in that voodoo doll
I'm very sorry, baby, doesn't look like me at all
I'm standing by the window where the light is strong
Ah they don't let a woman kill you
Not in the Tower of Song

Now you can say that I've grown bitter but of this you may be sure
The rich have got their channels in the bedrooms of the poor
And there's a mighty judgement coming, but I may be wrong
You see, you hear these funny voices
In the Tower of Song

I see you standing on the other side
I don't know how the river got so wide
I loved you baby, way back when
And all the bridges are burning that we might have crossed
But I feel so close to everything that we lost
We'll never have to lose it again

Now I bid you farewell, I don't know when I'll be back
There moving us tomorrow to that tower down the track
But you'll be hearing from me baby, long after I'm gone
I'll be speaking to you sweetly
From a window in the Tower of Song

Yeah my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on
I'm just paying my rent every day
Oh in the Tower of Song

so what do you think?

So, what do you think?
Did anything ever (not) change? Is it evolution? Is it destiny? Predestined course of history? Is there a fight? Can I fight along?
I'm in search for something good and clever to fight against. Maybe I'm just too stupid to see it, maybe I am just plainly lazy. Maybe I just like arts in a simple way.

But I would appreciate any hints.
Like, where would you put yourself on this big board of chess games.
(I don't know anything about poker)

America America so Wunderbar

I think the biggest difference really is perspective. Sure, honey, it's actually all the same. That doesn't change, though, that there is a difference of perspective which ultimately is affecting your way of life. It kind of does matter whether you see the earth all the way from the moon or whether you are on it, right?!
To put it in other words: I might as well be from another planet. The urge to distance ourselves from America, the American way of life - it is so pathetic and you find it in almost all Europeans except for those who really wanted to be American. Like my sister, for example. She is fine. She knows that it doesn't matter.
I don't, however, and that's why I have to go.
I don't know whether I'll be happier somewhere else but I sure as hell owe it to myself to go and give it a try.
Otherwise I'll probably end up like those petty people who say they just got stuck. As if they couldn't choose.

seeeed!

Listening to last.fm and hey, the bring the beginners in my artist selection, and as I read something about Jan Delay I see a link for seeeed and think, ooch, would be nice to listen to seeeed once again, and the next song was - surprise! - by them!!!!!! yeah.
Funny, because it came at a moment where I smirked at life for being such a bitch and thinking that I might be trapped in LA forever lol because it is so sunny and so nice ...and then there is seeeed and sings a love song to Berlin and I start smiling...
Hey! Berlin!
I want to come home!

then

how comes
this nature flower child
so drawn
smoking into the darkness
of a concrete abyss
in the middle of flashing
wild city lives
the dirt
so against the pale night sky
pounding music
into an otherwise
restlessly resting mind


a soul unwinding in the midst of
in between
finding hallowing
spaces so wide
narrowminding
alleyways
screaming for
some sort of salvation
maybe
in the saliva dripping down your chin
drooling off into the sparks of
exploding fascination
a cigarette
flying
crashing
the hard cold ground

lies

so
different
yet the same
eternally evolving
revolving
give me a revolver
i wanna fuck you in the mouth
i wanna make fucking love
of course
not to your corpse
but to your very
soul
penetrate your mind
unravel
the unfolding of
your child
blossoming
all over
again

interim report

Sooo, I am back in LA, didn't have the chance yet to go to the beach and enjoy what I envisioned while roaming the perfect Black Forest roads...However, I will, I will.
It's a very confusing situation for me right now, don't know what I got myself into. Maybe waiting around for life to show isn't always the best recipe...I might have to take action, I will, I will, I just...gotta think a little about this one.
So I will apply at universities but still have to figure out what it really is that I want to study. Anyone - ideas? Gosh. This is a really hard one. Going to Germany was supposed to help me out with that, but what it really did was to throw me back through space and time and to point zero, all over again. Now, everything is possible again. Fucking, everything.
Staying here could make sense in retrospect some day, but for right now...I start feeling so trapped, so scared. It's kind of time for a scene change. I think. Oh well. I need to get in contact with certain people here in LA. Like Orlando Bishop. We'll see what that brings. Actually, I LOVE LA and being here in some weirdo sense as soon as I pretend I AM leaving back to Berlin. You know? As soon as this horizon is set for me I can enjoy the scenery like a hot steam bath.
Yeah. ;-)

schizophrenia

Sometimes I stopped in the middle of a sentence and felt ashamed of myself. I remembered how I would sometimes talk cynical about my love just to hide how much I really cared. To protect the unnameable. Nothing wrong with that, granted, but still...It's a distinct feeling of being too weak to be true.
It's LA, man, it's something that you can't put in words. All I said, maybe that's true too, maybe that's what I really think when I am not trapped in this gigantic lost-angels-hole. But when I was driving down the black forest A5 to see my friend Silvia and the sun worked her way through the pale clouds, I couldn't help thinking that I would love to drive down the sidewalk at the beach, with the wind in my hair.
LA is for phony money oriented career suckers, sure, of course, but also for outdoor freaks (it's really just an hour and you're in the middle of mountains or the sea or the desert) and people who are content with a small circle of good friends who don't care about the rest in the city. And not necessarily oblivious to the rest of the world.
It's also a place where, as an artist, you can actually do really interesting things. It's the schizophrenia of being inbetween the dirty, gritty world of the streets and fucked up buildings and the glimmer glamour media dominated celebrity world that infiltrates the minds of millions and billions of tabloid readers every day everwhere in this crazy world.
It's a giant tight-rope dance project.
Where illusions are millimeters away from reality and yet universes away... Reality so relative, like clay waiting to be formed. Results to be sold elsewhere. Where you feel more detached from the rest of the world than anywhere else (well, THAT is a very subjective judgement) but where most of the rest of the brainwashed world thinks that it's at. Where it's different from what you think it is. Always. And where you have to confront yourself in a different way than before (DUH, true for everywhere, right?). Where you can hide from yourself just as well. It's up to you, always, in this crazy city. (well I guess...it 's everywhere that way?!)

The schizophrenia for me lies in the fact that i can't tell.
I can't take my words back. It's still the same. I still don't like it. I still almost start crying and get disgusted by my own depressed voice or attitude when people ask me how I am or like it here. I can't stand the good mood or smiles either when they are plastered on my face. It's a fucking caroussel and I am by no means in the position to say anything at all, actually. Which, of course, doesn't stop me from contemplating and rambling like I do now.
I am kind of driven by this feeling of shame that crept in, when I stopped for a second in the middle of a conversation with a ecology/economy student in one of Berlin's fantastically fucked up backhouse stairways. The light was dim and sounds simmering in the air. His hair was in dreads and his smile a beam that glued me to the steps. I couldn't move for half an hour, caught up in the cascade of words flying back and forth, weaving a story about LA and America and my life here that was just not really true. It was as true as it can be in a state of schizophrenia. It was the other side. It was, what made him say, I hope you make the right decisions and when you're back here come by for a coffee or a beer. It sounds like you should move back here.

When I finally left I felt excited and tormented in the same time. Ironically I ran into a girl from San Francisco downstairs who was in search of a place to stay. She was in Berlin and I felt home and she felt out of place.
Literally.
I can't tell. Still. I haven't been writing much about my time in Germany or the time after, here. Digestion is slow. It was hard to swallow.

And I still feel sorry for having painted such a tristesse in the eyes of my friends. LA. You aren't that bad after all. Are you.

24

I am turning 24 on tuesday. I remember how I asked myself where I would be with 23 and I am coming to a full round now, looking back, looking back and I see.

23 has been an amazing year for me, really. It has turned me inside out and upside down and everything went to pieces more than once. My life, my heart, my plans, my art.

>The direction of 24 is glooming at the horizon. It´s about time I hurry up and catch the sunrise.

Good bye

At The Dock

Sitting in the morning sun
I'll be sitting when the evening comes
Watching the ships roll in
And I watch 'em roll away again

[Refrain]
Sitting on the dock of the bay
Watching the tide roll away
I'm just sitting on the dock of the bay
Wasting time

I left my home in Georgia
Headed for the 'Frisco bay
'Cause I had nothin to live for
And look like nothing's gonna come my way

So I'm just...
[Refrain]

Look like nothing's gonna change
Everything still remains the same
I can't do what ten people tell me to do
So I guess I'll remain the same

Sittin here resting my bones
And this loneliness won't leave me alone
It's two thousand miles I roamed
Just to make this dock my home

Now, I'm just...

Can't believe

Can't believe they kicked me out of the house! Two of my best friends just said yes to this crazy sorority-infected decision. Geez. Didn't do nobody harm. They knew how much I loved my room. Oh WELL! Amanda said that Erika was like 'it's better now, since she is going home, it's good to be with your family when somebody kicked you out of the house'....hahahaha, thanks for THINKING so hard for me. I am not a kid though, bitch, how about ASKING people what they think.

Can't believe that I am going home.
I'll be home this sunday! I can't believe it! I can't!
Hey, dear Schopfheim, I love you much. Coming home.....Without my love....

To Write Or Not To Write

here is a post I just re-read.

Forgive Them Father (lyrics)

Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those that trespass against us
Although them again we will never, never, never trust

Dem noh know weh dem do, dig out yuh yei while dem sticking like glue,
Fling, skin, grin while dem plotting fah you,
True, Ah Who???

Forgive them father for they know not what they do
Forgive them father for they know not what they do

Beware the false motives of others
Be careful of those who pretend to be brothers
And you never suppose it's those who are closest to you, to you
They say all the right things to gain their position
Then use your kindness as their ammunition
To shoot you down in the name of ambition, they do

Forgive them father for they know not what they do
Forgive them father for they know not what they do

Why every Indian wanna be the chief?
Feed a man 'til he's full and he still want beef
Give me grief, try to tief off my piece
Why for you to increase, I must decrease?
If I treat you kindly does it mean that I'm weak?
You hear me speak and think I won't take it to the streets
I know enough cats that don't turn the other cheek
But I try to keep it civilized like Menelik
And other African czars observing stars with war scars
Get yours in this capitalistic system
So many caught or got bought you can't list them
How you gonna idolize the missing?
To survive is to stay alive in the face of opposition
Even when they comin' gunnin'
I stand position
L's known the mission since conception
Let's free the people from deception
If you looking for the answers
Then you gotta ask the questions
And when I let go, my voice echoes through the ghetto
Sick of men trying to pull strings like Geppetto
Why black people always be the ones to settle
March through these streets like Soweto

Like Cain and Abel, Caesar and Brutus, Jesus and Judas,
Backstabbers do this

Forgive them father for they know not what they do
Forgive them father for they know not what they do

It took me a little while to discover
Wolves in sheep coats who pretend to be lovers
Men who lack conscience will even lie to themselves, to themselves
A friend once said, and I found to be true
That everyday people, they lie to God too
So what makes you think, that they won't lie to you

Forgive them father for they know not what they do
Forgive them, forgive them
Forgive them father for they know not what they do
Forgive them, forgive them

Gwan like dem love while dem rip yuh to shreds,
Trample pon yuh heart and lef yuh fi dead,
Dem a yuh fren who yuh depen pon from way back when,
But if yuh gi dem yuh back den yuh mus meet yuh end,
Dem noh know wey dem do,
Dem no know, dem no know, dem no know,
Dem no know, dem no know wey dem do

Forgive Them Father

good bye, homeless man. good bye, capitol records tower, red blue flag. good bye drunk. good bye room, my little ship, who ever knew you had to become the symbol of friend-ship-wreck.
Made me wonder, for a minute or two, whether I was a bad captn, boohoo, but then I had to face it, phony people are a part of LA's desease, loyality isn't spelled right and the line between friends and traitors remains in the twilight.
'Like Kain and Abel, Cesar and Brutus, Jesus and Judas, backstabbers do this, Forgive them Father for they know not what they do.' (Lauryn Hill)

how can you

how can you
you really sorted it out in your head, didn't you
making yourself feel good
your betrayal a necessity in your universe
just please don't think it makes our friendship better from worse
the ship, wrecked,
it was a ghost ship always anyhow
amazing how we can fool ourselves, can we
how can you
be so affectionate, hey how are you sweeeetie.
great to see you,
how was work?
your voice already dying, meeting the ice of my self
i have ice you know
i just kept it on a shelf

home sweet home

I am going to be home soon!!!!

I am going to be home soon!!!!!!

I am going to be home soon!

I am going to be HOME sooooon!!!!!!

I am going to be home soon!!!!!!!!!!
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Isn't that beautiful?!

Hope

Hope can be like this window.
An unexpected pink curtain fluttering in the wind like a whiff of sweet sweet roses in your hair.
The yearning and longing moves in circles and gives birth to itself in seemingly neverending successions. It's as if the dompteur just fell asleep, can't direct no more. The arm sunken down, hanging useless at the side, feeling heavy, as if it was made of gold and platinum. The premium experience of heavy repetition. The final installment of time and space in one point for eternity.

I know you don't know what I am talking about. I am just tired and trying to draw circles into my computer and blank mind. If I only could think properly. But since I can't I am just kind of hopelessly hoping, hanging in the air.

I know I really loved you man. I really really did. That's wonderful. I don't know about now but it came to me today, while riding my skateboard back 'home', that it really was beautiful not to say anything and just be with each other. In each other.
I can't help it but I can't cry anymore. People knew that it was special. I mean man, even Ben the big 'that's life man'-dude asked me whether I saw you.

The complexity of the situation makes for a good confusion.
We are tangled up in blue.

And the dompteur slowly rises his arm...

flashbacks

Sometimes I like to put a record on that just died. I mean by that a record that just has passed its prime, its time in my life, that I have waved good bye a couple of weeks ago. The memories it brings are mingled with a whiff of a time-travel tease. Sweet, but not too sweet, bitter but not too bitter. Nothing that would make me throw up anymore.
It' s basically like taking a sunbath in a feeling that has the quality of an old aquaintance or even a friend that you haven't seen in a while - an oddly warm and well-known feeling which bears however the intriguing mystery of something new, a new perspective maybe.
Neil Young is doing that right now for me.
It was a time, when I felt more sure about certain things. Maybe my sense of longing and yearning was more distinctive.
I just don't know what is now, but I will know later.

crossroads

amazing how sometimes there is a real choice to be made.
as you know i am more a 'go with the flow' kind of person but even people like that have to make decisions sometimes.
i know that i could have made san francisco/berkely happen and maybe that would have brought him back to me or maybe it would have decided on a final cut way earlier than it happened otherwise.
but there is no maybe. there is just this certain feeling that it was a crossroads and i chose to stay in LA.
The reasons I stayed for are different from what I see now seems to be the real ones. but that doesn't matter at all.
what matters is, that there was a crossroads and my life would have been significanly different had I gone to Berkely, work for Heidi's father in law as a lawyer's assistant and be surrounded by these people and the nature and the san francisco vibe. i would have taken dance lessons and i would have been a different person.

but i am not
i am losing myself now
more and more and more and more and more
i wonder when it is completely
there is no one who can help me
to get out of this because there is no getting out of it
there is only a getting through it
as churchill already said, if you are going through hell, KEEP GOING.

i am not losing myself in the way that I get lost and dragged to the ground.
i am losing layers like an onion
i have to face truths that i knew i will have to face one day but i never wanted to
life is forcing me to
the experience here in la forces me to see through the deluding facettes of my fucking trillions of talents
who are ever beckoning and singing like sirenes to make me lose my way
maybe this is already being lost but i don't think so
i think
that
it isn't healthy being a loser for too long
but then again,
i had to be

just for a little while

life is longer than that moment

This is to everybody who wants me to sue the MTA

Joni Mitchell is right now my main focus music wise. Rummaging through her lyrics I found this little gem that shows that nothing has really changed from when she first wrote it, and in the middle I had to smile because it pinpointed it: this goes to all of you who want me to sue the fuck out of MTA just for the heck of it....I mean...just because everybody can do it, it doesn't mean it's right. Even if I gave the money to charity. There are invisible things in this world and honor and honesty matter somewhere in this fine filigran web of truths and lies and life and death...and luck and bad luck......

'The Three Great Stimulants'
I picked the morning paper off the floor
It was full of other peoples little wars
Wouldnt they like their peace
Dont we get bored
And we call for the three great stimulants
Of the exhausted ones
Artifice, brutality and innocence
Artifice and innocence

No tanks have ever rumbled through these streets
And the drone of planes at night has never frightened me
I keep the hours and the company that I please
And we call for the three great stimulants
Of the exhausted ones
Artifice, brutality and innocence
Artifice and innocence

Oh and deep in the night
Our appetites find us
Release us and bind us
Deep in the night
While madmen sit up building bombs
And making laws and bars
Theyd like to slam free choice behind us

I saw a little lawyer on the tube
He said, its so easy now, anyone can sue.
Let me show you how your petty aggravations can profit you!
Call for the three great stimulants
Of the exhausted ones
Artifice, brutality and innocence
Artifice and innocence

Oh and deep in the night
Appetites find us
Release us and blind us
Deep in the night
While madmen sit up building bombs
And making laws and bars
Theyre gonna slam free choice behind us

Last night I dreamed I saw the planet flicker
Great forests fell like buffalo
Everything got sicker
And to the bitter end
Big business bickered
And they call for the three great stimulants
Of the exhausted ones
Artifice, brutality and innocence
Artifice and innocence

Oh these times, these times
Oh these changing times
Change in the heart of all mankind
Oh these troubled times

ants and fags

for some reason intuition always leads me to the right places at the right time. it is weird because maybe it's just my perspective that changes as soon as i take a chance on something and hence i view everything through a 'that is fabulous' filter.
who cares, it doesn't matter.
what matters is that i made a discovery tonight:
around 3 AM the 304 Bus from Santa Monica to Downtown fills up with fags in the area between West Hollywood and Hollywood. For some reason they seem to be going to Downtown.
'I am not sleeping' said he and it such a gorgeously gay way that I couldn't stop beaming.
He showed me music videos from Bjork and others and we talked about David Lynch and Monsieur Gordoy (?) who made some of Bjorks videos...
And we were trying to remember her husband's name. The famous installation artist! Gosh! my brain is mush.

Another thing I realized tonight is that police on motorcycles aren't only hot but they also remember me of the fact that we are very much like ants. Or bees. How they swarm out to sort things out.
It's an organization.

I love gay guys. Thanks God there are always a couple of Gay guys in each society. They are most likely to be pacifists, art lovers and totally save to us women. I've never felt that save on a late night bus in LA....

*ps damn, it's late, save with a v! gee....fff

forgetting

i forget so quickly
i even forget to worry about it
blessed are the ignorant
why is this mind still turning so much
occasionally only worrying
sometimes happy

i forgot what all those lifes were like
i don't remember anymore
nothing

i remember only that i attached some value to it
it was worth some of it
now another life
takes place
another stamp
where am i sent?
i don't know
there was a destination
i know

i forgot what it was like to love her and be happy
now doors are closed
i believe i shut them

another song
another day
another life

Hey!

it's a nerd!

my favorite:

She kills me every time I see her!

Everytime I see her I tell her Mom that she stoler her from me and I want her back!

LA

...
Is, like so many other gigantic cities a city of many nationalities and cultures and faces and views

It has so many corners and secrets like a human heart. Things aren't what they seem...

You find a flower in the asphalt

and badly dressed mannequins

You find hope in the grey monotony that speaks silently of a secret life

Pants for real ladies

And airplanes writing mysterious messages into the sky, God probably doesn't know why

Somewhere there is here