So
I'm coming back!
This time for real.
I mean, as real, as life's impossibilities can get.
Of course, something crazy could happen
And it won't work out.
But aside from that?
I'm coming!
BERLIN!
ha!
ha!
ha!
clap clap clap
I'm coming for a second round!

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...