kites

kites flying high in the sky.
children playing and memories dissolving in the salty sea.
i once was a kite and I flew high
now i'm an earth worm and i transform dirt into earth

i'm not gonna be first

another one

klick on the title and it will beam you to a conversation i had with my guardian angel

HA!

so i kicked my lazy ass and turned the link field on in this blog. it was really really easy. geez. laziness is humanities big enemy and in the same time our biggest engine....we'd still be doing laundry in rivers otherwise right?!
so, if you klick at the title you'll find a post that I liked that I found rummaging around in the september section. Actually, september has a lot of posts that I like. And I usually don't really like what I write too much :) so go ahead and check it out if you want to and have nothing better to do :))

Since ...

my other blog got revealed when I moved it to my google account (well they made me do it! gosh...) I thought I'd crosspost a little. The deal with the other blog is, well was, that it was for the people who know me and more of an update kind of thing and stories I wanted to share. Since I am not so much in obscurity anymore I thought I'd just play along....
here we go: go to this link, please: http://lunatics-unite.blogspot.com/2007/02/to-write-or-not-to-write.html
(yes I am stupid with computers and have no idea why this blog doesn't have a link feature. geez.)
enjoy hunting :))

phew

Phew, How I Love This Room!
It's been great to me. Really. I sit in the window, savoring the sight once more. The fortress of the homeless dude who looked at his creation of abandoned tables and cardboard walls with the critical stepward back of an artist.
At the Capitol Records Tower, the wires, the small alley way. The memories dancing in the wind.
Thank you room, for being so good to me. I love the interior too. My furniture. The way it's put. Stay put, I say to this sweetness, but I know it's lingering in the air like a fleeting moment and then it will be gone. I love it. That's the wonderful life I've been put into. Stay put says the wind and I wink and smile.
Good things can spring from here I feelingly think.
Many a post I wrote inspired by you.
The bed finally gave in though and it's time to go now.
Amazing how life takes care of things. How free and unbiased I can go now to Germany.

I remember this French Guy who visited me in Basel, Switzerland. He was there for just a weekend, introduced me to the Pixies and fucked my beautiful friend E. on our couch. The danger of it. The absolute audacity of it.
The song I sang for them in the velvet blue night in our beautiful backyard one of the most memorable moments. The gold dust of the sun rays in the songlines shimmers still through. And then he was gone, for ever. A footprint in the sand, scattered to the four winds.

Moments sometimes amount to an intensity of a hawk fluttering in the wind on one spot. Not moving, regardless, spying with piercing eyes. The aim unknown to the spectator but my heart, my heart it knows.

This French guy, he was talking all the time about the illusion of safety.
And as I sit here and love the songs and life and audacity I smile at the thought of the illusion of safety, and more, the illusion of attachment.

It's not.
There is no attachment and I have been shown. How we sometimes get tempted to jump in squares, in prescribed patterns, such and such things are unacceptable, moral behavior. Take it, don't take it, sue, don't sue, be mad, don't be mad.

Another guy I met in the bus today was reading something. I read over his shoulder and then I caught him reading my book. We laughed and started to talk. To the very end. It was the right person in the right moment, gracefully put into my face by Whoever It Is. He said 'People rejecting you is God protecting you from them. Never take anything personally'

I don't. Because, I love it. I smile. I can dance now, free and wild...

Backstabbers Do This

"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"
(Lauryn Hill, 'Father Forgive Them')

It's not like anyone is free from that, I suppose.
I lied to myself before.
She must be lying to herself because she is acting as if nothing happened, her fucking beam baam baam smile sticks like glue in my face, smashed into my peace of mind, starteling me like error404 reappearing, more annoying than ever before.
Does she really think that that was okay? It's not about THAT they asked me to ... or lets face it, that they kicked me out of the house, it's about the WAY they did it. Motherfucking pussies.
I'm almost schizophrenic trying to understand and justify the actions of two people who I had considered to be almost my only friends here in LA. No matter how I try to turn it and no matter how much I know that it REALLY is for the better I can't get over the fact that what they did was matter of factly backstabbing me.

It's crazy, really. There is a way to do it and then there is a way how not to do it. And then there are beliefs of all sorts and expectations. But isn't there a fine line that defines a certain moral that applies to all of us, given a certain similar background and living situation???
Am I Fucking Tripping?
I am so naive.
I really. I really shit. Man. I believed them to be my friends. That really hurts. It sucks. But truth hurts, they say.

A Piece Of Our Love Came To Me Yesterday Night

Not in the mood to even fuck or kiss anymore, just turning to you, lying on the floor, legs spread but nothing like before
our love just in a puddle,
mingled in the middle,
a mix of my tears and your silence and the fears
cum I sucked into me before
so I could have a piece of life of you, just in me
just for you
I know you know there is something
and there was something before.

Loyality

Never is anyone to live my life.
See, I'm afraid. It's about loyality.
Royality of the heart.
'Take a chance with me. She is going to sing it - You'll find peace with me. You're my remedy. 07.'
Friends, dropping, Never wanted to drop anybody. Hovering above life like a hawk, ready to attack, obsessing, yet just observing though.
Never wanted to be disloyal to you. What are you doing to me.




But it's about finding out the truth about who you are and your friends.
Who they really are.
Who really is your friend.
Who you can really be friend to.
Passing dreams.
Fleeting, fleeting only and always, eternally. Never can anyone be me.
I gotta take it on or else I should fail. Or prosper, due to sheer will.
What you really want, what you really will be.
be, be, be, be. Is it,
is it, is it really me?
Travelling solely. Through and through and through and through.

NOT

At some point I asked myself, whether I could leave this amazing place. I thought, that, which will make it so hard for me to leave, is this place. This living situation with my friends. That we miraculously got the place we envisioned to live in, together. With the amazing neighbours. While my 'wife' Klodi left to Albania and my love eventually left me too all I had was them two. I thought, gosh, I am so lucky, I am so damn lucky that I found at least two really good friends here in this strange city.

Life is treacherous and it always teaches you otherwise.

Hypocritical motherfuckers. The irony is, I'm glad I found out. That you are NOT.

MOTHERFUCKERS

My hands are still shivering and tiny teeny little sobs bubble up inside of me to dissolve my sight.
A knife in the back, you fucking motherfuckers. How can you do that.
Voices fighting inside my head. One says, it's probably the saccharin angel, hey it's all good, it's probably for the best but the other voice just can't forgive that people don't even bother to make things work.
I could include myself in that one probably. Too self absorbed with my petty little problems. Who fucking cares.
Living alone is probably better. It still hurts, it's probably the immediate shock, it ripples through my body. They just asked me to leave. In two week.s Motherfuckers.
You have a sister in Santa Monica they say. You can leave your stuff there.
One of them, she used to be such a good friend, she says, you know, it's like staying in a dysfunctional relationship. I'd rather save our friendship by not living together. Whatever. THANK YOU BITCH. THanks for kicking me out of my dream house. Thanks for your patience. THanks for your interest in my life. Thanks for asking what was wrong with me. Thanks for caring when a bus almost ran me over. Thanks you stupid motherfuckers.
I wonder whether it's really for the best. Or whether it's just the easy way out. And, can I forgive them.
THey probably do that only because that french girls need a room. ANd doeson't she fit perfectly in your girly world.
I can't even walk outside into the night now because i am such a fucking giant pussy and don't wanna see anyone of them. I feel like moving out in the night when nobody sees me. I am so fucking embarrassed. That's it. man. At the core of it I am just plainly embarrassed. How did that fucking happen???? Am I really like a really blind idiot? Like a really egotistical self absorbed asshole that one can't live with? That's probably what boyfriends and girlfriends ask themselves when somebody breaks up with them. It's breaking up time, big time. One of them just broke up with ehr boyfriend again. And they break up with me.
Because it's important . you know. instead of ruining it. the dysfunctional relationship that has to be sacrificed to make it all better.
Am I the idiot? Do i have a hard time to face the truth or can it be that they are just MOTHERFUCKERS????

I Want You (She Is So Heavy)

I want you so bad it's driving me mad
(Beatles)

Life is emerging, merging and eventually diverging.
I mean, love.

She is so heavy, so heavy
(Beatles)

It's driving me crazy

There have been times that I didn't.

11/01 When he said let's meet sunday and I took Ma's keys and drove her car in the night without a license. A lady invited us into her house, she was lonely, red red wine. 'Enjoy, your are young' she muttered as we left. I stared at him. Gave him a hug. 'Do you want to come with me?' All the way up the mountain he held my hand, I was steering with the other. Made him climb up all the way to the top of the TV tower. My first kiss, a bright star sky embracing us. Sweet lost hours in the bottom of the tube. A beatle's song in my head. His hands painting on the canvas of my shivering body, my aching soul.

07/02 When I jumped on the train, decision making had been a matter of 15 minutes. Writing him an email on the way. Hours on the slow train. A long night in the train station, he hadn't read the email in time. I sang songs with a homeless dude in the station, listening to the lifestory of his junkie friend.

07/02 When the slow reggae beat engulfed my passion with his youthful lust. A dream to come true. Soft lips, whispering hips. Us in the gras, people trying not to stare, his eyes a burning glare, my smile sweet yet triumphant.

04/03 When I jumped on the train again. A taxi driver took me to his house for free. Sleepily he opened the door, come in come in. I marched in, threw his check in his face, tore it apart. Fuck You Bastard. I slept on his friend's bed - he of course couldn't sleep. Walking the apartment like a tiger in a cage. Softly kissing me on my sleeping lips.

05/05 When I spontaneously came over to the house with the bordeaux red room. His voice low and crunchy, whispering that he hadn't felt that way in a long time. I was standing naked in the window in the early grey morning hours, admiring the sunset colors of the adjacent house. He stepped behind me, it was warm.

11/05 When I took his hand on the Boulevard. Words descending like heavenly doves 'The Should Haves, The Should Haves, The Should Haves'. An old lady on her walking chair reciting youthful poetry warning of a time passed idly missing love's threshing floor. He responded, his hand held mine, it seemed forever. 'What are you afraid of?' his dear voice a whisper, too, under the starlet photographs in Mac Donalds. 'Nothing, I said, Nothing.'

There have been times that I didn't. Think. Too. Much.

02/07 When I told you that I can't.

it is what it is

You think too much.
You think too much.

Well, do I!

Boys, Men, - ...
Excuse me please, I don't have to try to explain, right? I am trying to meet you half way, don't you see.
Explanations always take on the color of too much thought.
Explanations are never what it really is.
They are a snapshot of a temporary state of mind.
They are the reflection of the clouds in the deep turqoise lake that hides what IS.
As opposed to what we want.
As opposed to what we think we need. Fleeting clouds on unsure ground.
What IS, is what we need. The pearls at the bottom of the sea. The world beneath the surface which the wind cockles and dimples only ever so slightly, just as your longing remarks you guys made in the dark in a car.
What IS, is what we need. In every which twist or mask or excuse it presents itself - it is what it is.
Not what you make of it in your passion-blinded mind that wants so desperately to have found.

Well, do I.
There have been times that I didn't.