Monday, December 24, 2012

Thursday, December 20, 2012

peace

two days ago, sat on the staircase infront of a huge storage room infront of a private gallery, with a cigarette between my fingers listening to that one insignificant song that makes no sense but has a nice beat, i experienced something strange. i had to sit down in the first place because i was so tired and had gotten so little sleep the night before but i had this immense pain in my knees, it was like if someone had taken a hammer and punched each of my knees one time, equal pain on both knees and it hurt everytime i wasn't walking, but i had to sit down because i was so tired.

i also had to buy a new bag of tobacco, because i had forgotten mine at home and it pissed me off a little bit, also because i was in a very expensive area and all the food was so expensive and i was hungry but i was thinking 'at least smoking makes you lose apetite'.

anyway. i was sitting there with this cigarette in my hand that i had rolled so carefully because i was so tired when two girls came up to me and asked me for directions, two young italian girls and i told them what they needed to know and when they left i took another puff of the cigarette and i breathed it out

and then

i closed my eyes

i closed my eyes and felt how my body was filled with this certain kind of peace i had never ever known of before, i felt orange eventhough it was raining that day - i suddenly felt so disconnected to the rain and to the cars and to the trams and to that cigarette that corrupted my lungs with tar and

and i was afraid of opening my eyes in case i would lose that tranquil state i happened to be in, but i did it anyway - i take stupid risks like that - then i closed my eyes again and that serenity filled up my body again and then i just sat like that for a minute.

it reminded me of what my friend said about yoga once; it's not about doing 'the clown', 'the pissing dog', or 'the tiger', it's about finding that one position where you feel at peace and it doesn't matter what it is, if you find that peace while standing on your hands or when you just put your head onto your shoulder while sitting; it doesn't matter as long as you feel like you are relaxed and at peace.

so yes, i am so happy now, i am so happy i found out that this exists, this peacefulness, i am so happy it actually exists and that i found it; now i can close my eyes and feel nothing - i can close my eyes and feel nothing and relax where ever i am - that being on a bus stand, on a plane or on the top of a hill in thüringerwald.

Friday, December 14, 2012

huskeliste

black plastic bag
tape (duct)
how to glue the thing to the wall - cut it tonight and experiment
how to put the mp3 into the thing (+turn it off and on)


Tuesday, December 11, 2012

i know you are better than me

will you look at me wierdly if i go into the toilet and stick my finger down my throat, and i puke out all the sweet thing? oh, come on, it's not like i ate something anything spicy, it won't be that painful, it could have been worse, it's just me wanting to stick that finger down the throat and just puking all that shit out, it's not like it has to be in there... why don't you come and join me?

you know we deserve it, well at least i know i deserve it, i am such a horrible person i neeeeeeeeeeeeed to be hurt, i deserve it, i deserve it so much and it's not like it was spicy food, i wouldn't do this if it was spicy, no, that would be too disgusting, i ate something sweet, it's not gonna hurt - what do you mean you think it's crazy?

wow, that must make you a happy person, wow, you think that... you think that we don't need to do those kind of things to ourselves? no need to feel the pain? it's not actually about the pain: it's about doing bad things to yourself, just as you do to all the people and everything else around you every fucking day - you make the world a worse place: BUT YOU DON'T FEEL LIKE THAT? no, i'm happy for you.

i actually am happy for you. i am happy you feel like you're worth more than this. i am happy that you think that all that love and the cupcakes and the glitter and the kisses is something that is... i don't know? what is it?
you feel like you deserve it, is that it?
please tell me what you feel. i honstely don't understand it, but i wish i could. you make it seem like your place is a happier place than mine, i don't even know if i believe in happiness anymore - unless it's summer, i only believe in it when i feel happy. this is me when i'm not happy, so why am i more satisfied now? why do i feel more complete now than i ever do when i am 'happy'? why does this feel more real than in the summer, when you feel happy and loved and nice and tiny and small and beautiful?


Saturday, December 8, 2012

my mother

my mother grew up with a huge paddy field facing the back of their house.

wait, now i make it seem as if the house was big, but it wasn't. the house doesn't really matter that much, and it wasn't big but they still had everything they needed.

one mother, one father and 13 children in house and i think they were all sharing rooms. maybe they had two rooms. and they had a kitchen with a little wood stove. my mother learned to cook when she was 6 or something. no-one taught her how to cook - or that's what she tells me - she just learned it. that's why my mother never taught me how to cook either, she said that it's my responsibility to learn it, so i look up recipies online.

but yes, it was a tiny house after our standards, but they had an enormous farm. and a huge paddy field. her mother's dowry was the huge farm with a paddy field. my mother's mother's father was a rich man, he owned an umbrella factory. he married his daughter off to an educated man that worked for an english cream and powder company. i don't know what his title was. but it seems like something fancy but useless. i just know that he was extremely clever and intelligent and educated, and he didn't need to work on the rice field.

they had other people to do that. my mother sometimes tells me that her mother was a beautiful person because she would always give jobs to people who needed it, cook for them and she never cheated them. when we had people working on our house in norway, my mother cooked for the workers too. she would say: "this way they will work better - do not save on anything, be generous to those who are doing something for you - you must never let people go hungry".
i asked her if that didn't seem a little egoistic to her - why did she make it sound so nice and humanitarian when she wasn't solely doing it for the sake of the workers' hungriness, but also for the fact that it would affect their work that they were doing for us in a better way? she said that that doesn't matter when what you are doing is a good deed. we never finished the conversation, but i think she would have emphasised that it was based on good-will rather than a self-interest and i wouldn't have accepted it anyway.

my mother's mother died when my mother was 14. my mother only tells me happy stories from when her mother was alive. how she would laugh, how cute she was or stories of unfairness (from a child's perspective; as when your mother takes your toy from you and gives it to your younger sibling). she always smiles when she tells me those stories. we talk about her mother because she didn't die in the war. it was unfair that she died, but no-one could have prevented it.


i don't want to ask her about the other stories, i usually only ask her about things that were nice in one way or another. how they fled from the war and stuff, i don't ask so much about that. did they hide in bunkers as you see those people in pictures do? those people with ripped t-shirts - mommy, were you one of them? although sometimes my mother makes fun of pictures like that. she'd say: "i remember us laying like that and your youngest uncle started crying because he wanted to poop but he couldn't".

and then she laughs. i wonder if my mother knows that i want to know, but i don't know how to ask.

you know.
it's unfair to me too. i know all about cells and embryos, so i probably wouldn't have been alive if it hadn't been for the war, because then my mother and my father probably never would have met and they would never have had intercouse at the time they did and I would never be here.

nonethelss, my mother would maybe had had a better life without the war and she would have married someone else and they would have had other children - beautiful lucky children that got to grow up milking cows and making cow shit into compost and stuff. and my mother would have taught them the names of all the different types of mangos, because there are so many of them, there are unbelievably many mangoes and my mother knows almost all of them.

but in stead of that, in stead of raising her children in a place she could have called home, she raised us somewhere were she didn't know the names of anything. she must have felt stupid. she couldn't even understand the language, she didn't know much about where she was living; she didn't know much about the trees, the flowers, the fruits and the berries, but she had to raise her children there anyway. and that was unfair to all of us, but it was uttermost unfair to my mother.

Monday, December 3, 2012

sometimes

i lay in bed

alone? - yes, very much alone

knowing

or thinking

or realising

that there is something
i want to talk about

but there aren't really anyone
i'd like to talk to

Saturday, December 1, 2012

... weisst du?

Jeg satt på u-bahnen - U6 fra Leopoldplatz til Friedrichstrasse - og plutselig ble jeg kvalm. Jeg hadde på meg den blå lua, den jeg måtte gå opp for å hente igjen fordi jeg klemte han jeg bor med da jeg møtte han nede i gangen og  jeg kjente hvor kalde ørene hans var og han sa: "ja, men det snør, så det er kaldt," og jeg tenkte ja - ja, det snør, jeg trenger en lue.

Men jeg satt der helt alene og ble kvalm og jeg skjønte at det måtte ha noe med snøen å gjøre, at plutselig hadde alle på seg luer og at det var kaldt og jeg ble kvalm, jeg følte meg sjuk i hjertet liksom, eller litt kvalm i hjertet og jeg tenkte: "nå, nå føler du deg ensom, nå føler du deg ensom og det er derfor du sitter her og er kvalm," og jeg tenkte på det at jeg skulle til biblioteket og skrive essay og tenkte "faen, hvordan skal du klare å skrive en essay når du føler deg ensom, du veit hvordan det er, du kommer bare til å sitte der og tenke på hvor kaldt det er idag og hvor ensom du følte deg på u-bahnen og du kommer søren meg ikke til å klare å skrive en dritt".

Og så tenkte jeg: "det er en sånn stygg liten sjappe i stygge Friedrichstrasse hvor de selger disse stygge og dyre makronene, de du aldri kjøper fordi de er så dyre og ikke smaker noe mer enn sukker," og så kom jeg på hvor fine de egentlig er, de har så fine farger, fine fine mange farger, og de er så bittesmå, de er så bittesmå og fargerike og ikke tyske og ikke kalde og "kanskje de gjør deg mindre ensom, du er nødt til å bruke litt penger på å ha det bra idag".

Ich weiss nicht genau, weisst du? Ich weiss nicht wie es ist. Ich weiss eigentlich nix, und ich weiss überhaupt nicht was mit meinem eigene Körper passiert, weisst du?

Naja. Du kannst doch ein Kuchen backen und vielleicht... Ja, vielleicht wird es dann ein bisschen besser. 
Was solltest eigentlich besser sein? Näää, das weiss ich nicht. Aber iss doch deine hübsche Makronen und geh weiter nach Hause, und mach ein Kuchen. Und du will ein bisschen besser fühlen, und das ist ja etwas, weisst du... 
Oder? 

Ja. "Husker du hva du sa til deg sjæl, eller? Dag for dag. Idag er ikke den beste dagen. Den kommer helt sikkert til å bli bedre. Du var bare litt ensom på u-bahnen. Friedrichstrasse er et ensomt sted uansett, det kan ha noe med det å gjøre. Dag for dag, ikke glem det. Du veit du kommer til å komme deg over det, så ikke bruk tid på å være nedfor, sånt er bare ikke verdt det imorra og da er det ikke verdt noe idag heller".

Nei. Ok. Ja.
"Jeg hører hva du sier".
Ja. "Du har rett. Du har jo helt rett. Det kommer til å gå bra."