Schneemädchen.

Es hat geschneit. Endlos viel. In meinem Kopf. 142 cm. Und es war jemand da. Vielleicht bist das gar nicht du. Und es schneit und schneit. Weil niemand sagt, was jeder weiß.

Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come

I want to tell you about my christmas... kinda.

I didn't really feel the christmas spirit this year, what with being home for no December weekend at all, no church service all December, no shoe polishing for St. Nicholas (well, I tried but lack sufficient tools), no guitar playing on Christmas Eve to look forward to (my brother celebrated with the family of his girlfriend for the first time)... so it didn't strike me as too outlandish, when I met with some old school friends on the 23rd and one of them told me, she and her family were not celebrating Christmas this year: "No presents, no Christmas, just a family dinner - so looking forward to it!", that's how she put it. And I understood. The humdrum shopping every year, the hectic pre-Christmas life, the sometimes forced family gatherings... it can be deterring...

I know Christmas is a cultural thing and while it my not be an exclusively christian thing anymore, it is in (formerly) christian societies where it really flourishes. And so if some people think it absolutely ridiculous to sing cheesy songs about a baby they do not believe in or observe the blending of secular follies and christian tradition with bewilderment, I will not persuade them to embrace christmas. Just like no one will make me embrace Yom Kippur. So that's that.
But at some point this Christmas Eve it struck me that those who had celebrated Christmas all their lives - by choice, may I add - and now decided to just let it slide, could not have celebrated it the way my family does, the way I do. Yes, we get each other presents. And no it isn't our main concern in the weeks leading up to Christmas. Yes, we go all out with the cooking for Christmas. And no it isn't just a chore, it is a family activity, an opportunity for extravaganza and joking and creating something together. Yes, we have a tight schedule on Christmas Eve starting at 7 in the morning and my last church service starting at 11 pm. But no, it is not just a hubbub we have to get through. Half past seven is the set dinner time and every step leading up to it, is what brings Christmas to life, is necessary to set this day apart from all the others. My little brother is terribly nervous, my mother is preoccupied with the sermons and the rest of us coordinate the normal everyday necessities with the Christmas preparations: Cooking something for lunch, arranging the presents in the living room, preparing dinner, hoovering the whole flat once more, learning poems and songs by heart, attending the two church services always ready to extinguish fire should one break out with all the candles... Yes, we have extended family over for Christmas. And no, we are not pretending to be and example of harmonious family life. We keep it in a time range everyone can stomach, so we all can make it through feeling good. We play the new games we got for Christmas, this year we'll go to the opera, we eat together, we talk, we depart.
Yes, we do all of these things. But neither of them is our priority. We are home. We relish in the fact that even my grandma still knows all the songs and poems and stories by heart. We are stressed out and sometimes hot headed, but we come back to this evening with a tenderness and a quiet that is worth all of it.

"Bist du der eigenen Rätsel müd?
Es kommt, der alles kennt und sieht..."

"I want you to die

the way I died." And isn't that all kinds of wrong? Isn't it vile and ugly and selfish and tremendously sad? It certainly is the reason why humans do not come with superpowers. Because they stop caring about the world and the greater good, once they are thrown off balance.

There's no point in crossing your fingers for this Friday. What hasn't happened in those last 20 years, will surely not come about now. There's no reason to keep holding on to the misery and the carelessness. It is ugly. And tremendously sad. No superpowers. No apocalypse. Just the two voices in your head. One is saying "push through"... and the other one is lying.

Ladies,

I am a real catch. Even if I say so myself. :)

"Don't move so slow..."

"... I can't take it..." Because I felt I was getting nowhere and because I need all my procrastination for university and work, I decided to set up a new plan for training that is less vague and trades rest days for alternative activity. I am on it since Monday and so far I am not quite sure what to think of it. I haven't run this slowy for a very long time. And I haven't laced up my running shoes for a mere 5 kilometers for the same time. It feels a bit ridiculous. But I will give the plan a chance. So far it is laid out for 6 weeks and the intervals(starting next week! :) ) look quite challenging. Hopefully, it will be less frustrating then. For now I am just running reeeeeeeeally slowly. Which might be an advantage considering the snow and the ice on the street...

--

If somehow, miraculously, you were given ten days, ten nights and no morning beyond - where would you take them? If you had ten days left, what would you eat, where would you sleep, what would you see? For 240 hours, how much would you allow yourself to feel? If we were given counted time, instead of endless endeavour, would all of this still matter? Would we still plan ahead and have to deal with regret? If we were sure it ended, would we begin to begin? Or can't we break out, is this numbness our skin?
Maybe you have ten days. Or maybe it's two. Or twenty-thousand. Maybe it's always to soon. And if I had ten nights and no morning beyond... I'd spend some with you.
And nothing hurt.

Hey, they are playing that song...

I just wondered if you will remember the song. I guess, the pain will stay. I will have to find a way to relish in this life anyway. Sign me up, Santa Fe...

---

The snow is falling just the way I love it and I finally laid my hands on that book on psycholinguistics that I always wanted to read. It is for work obviously. I think I will take it home with me for the weekend. And I will devour it like a novel. Psycholinguistics is very dear to my heart, as it ties in with so many theories I've developed from my early childhood onwards. Language is fascinating.  

What if there is no right moment?

What if one day you find yourself transformed into the most stunning butterfly, with technicolor wings and such grace and agility, it is hard to believe you've ever been anything else? You find yourself cut out for everything. The sunny side of life has finally caught up to you, a soft summer breeze is propelling you along and you just know that this was worth all the waiting. Sounds good? Well, it might happen.

Or maybe it won't. So you might as well try to be the jolliest caterpillar in the whole wide world. Day in, day out.

Die Welt lässt sich nicht besiegen

Egal, wie früh wir aufstehen. Egal, wie weit wir gelaufen sind. Die Welt lässt sich nicht besiegen. Am Besten wäre wohl, wenn wir das einsähen. Und die Richtung wechseln. Damit nicht wir am Ende die Besiegten sind.

"You know, I'm all for your desire. I crave the feeling of you wanting me naked, the feeling I get when I hear you gasping... but tonight, can we do something else? I would really need you to hold me without falling asleep right away. I would like you to experience this freakishly demanding need of being in contact with me, just like I experience it. So you could just hold me. And you would want to stay close to me, even if you're uncomfortable lying this way, because in some way you cannot fathom what sleep is for now that you are lying next to me. I would really need that. "

Wishlist

Alright, people. I think I've been milking the heavy stuff for quite some time now. And now the point has come to touch on some other topics. As you all know, Christmas is approaching. And in case you are not totally counting on being saved by some apocalypse, I am sure you will spend some time thinking about presents and wishes and the economic rush hour that is Christmas time.
If your friends are avid believers in the end of the world, I am sure they will appreciate you packing a survival backpack for them. Which may include tequila (highly recommended), duct tape, chewing gum (MacGyver was never without it), a torch, water filtration kit, basic medication and some of these.
If that doesn't work... I am sorry. You're on your own then. Which can be really tricky especially because Christmas seems to be one of those times when you cannot remember for the life of you all the things you always wanted to have... Which is the original reason for this blogpost. I just remembered what I wanted. And I will post it here, so I can read it later:

comic underwear. No kidding. I always wanted some. If you don't understand what I mean, look here or here.

I will get back to you with more crude wishes later. And in the meantime I encourage you to think about your own. Write them down. Tell people. Otherwise you might get one of those survival backpacks... just saying ;) 

So are we girlfriends then?

You cannot move away. Not now that technically there is a place for you as my physicist-wife. We could be annoyingly nerdy. We could have spontaneous dance parties in the kitchen to songs we're both too young to know. We could throw all our tableware against walls when it gets too unbearable to be at each other's mercy. I could wake you in the dead of night, because early mornings are my thing, and you could hold my hands through the caffeine shock, while I try to join you for a long night. We could be unconventional together. We could think up sweet escape scenarios and arrive at the decision of staying time and again. I could paint a house for you and the colours of a sunrise and we would never move in, but camp in the backyard. We could take ballroom dance classes to embarass your parents on your sister's wedding. We could write endless to-do-lists and then spend the day in bed, because nothing could be more important than that. We could be good together. Really good.

There's just this one thing:
We can't.
You're hung up on that knight of yours and I don't want to get over my ex-girlfriend. So much so, that it makes me nauseous to think the word: Ex-girlfriend.

But let me tell you one thing: There's a really good chance they won't come back. And this thing we're doing right now? That's pathetic. So, you know, once I get over the denial and the anger and the bargaining and the depression... once I get there, I will wake up to see you've been that tad bit quicker. And I will regret it.

Now that is all I've had to say within the last two years

summed up in a two minute dance performance. Impressive.

Ok, Anna Calvi strikes me as slightly uncanny, but this music video is definitely one of my favourites.
Other than that I've come to the conclusion that I cannot be sorry for myself like that for more than two days. So in case this continues, I will embrace the stupidity I was born with, go out there and get me a bloody nose. Nothing like a mess, to clean things up, right?

intoxicated

My heart behaves like a drunkard lately: Stumbling around in my chest, sporting a bluntness nobody can bear and being overly sentimental. I'm aching, I'm sore, but alas, of course I cannot admit it! Now that would ruin everything, wouldn't it?

Sterben üben.

Ich bin ertrunken im Traum. Aber das war nicht das Schlimmste. Ich war unter Wasser ohne oben und unten und sank - womöglich - nur noch tiefer Richtung Grund, während meine Lungen brannten und die Panik wuchs. Kein verirrter Lichtstrahl, der die Wasseroberfläche anzeigt, nur kaltes Dunkelblau und schließlich ein tiefer Zug Wasser. Das war das Schlimmste. Der plötzliche Frieden, der sich einstellte, als ich wusste, das nichts mehr zu retten ist. Die Abgeklärtheit des "gleich vorbei".
Beim Augenaufschlag begrüßt mich eine Nebelszenerie wie aus "Angriff der Moorleichen" und etwas ähnliches wie Enttäuschung. Der Wecker klingelt. Ein feuchter Tag, kein nasses Grab erwartet mich.

I didn't say never.

But I said "not the next time", "not this time", "not for a while now"... I really don't want to travel alone next year. Not that I dislike the concept in general. It was great the first time I did it. It was mind-bending and eye-opening and much needed. And while all of this might hold true for my last solitary trip, it was also a terribly lonely affair. I felt lonely, lost, desperate and very, very sad. Been great places, saw some truly astonishing scenes, met some nice people... but I was essentially ship-wrecked.
I am trying to make happiness a local affair now. To make myself at home here. And I still want to go places, to travel far and beyond... But I refuse to go alone yet again. I refuse. I'd rather stay here.

Run. Keep on running.

This was me this morning. This will be me tomorrow morning. And in the meantime I will do the work I neglected all week, start planning my Latin lessons and try to tidy this room. Life is good. Seize it.

Truth is...

if sex had any healing power, we'd've cured cancer. And AIDS. But for now my best bet is on that other life when the both of us will be cats.

For this life though, I will make a wish:

I wish you'll find someone who makes you ache with love. Who challenges you and treasures your heart. Someone you can carry over shaky grounds and paint the most vivid dreams for. I wish that they will appreciate the compliments that you are so apt at paying. And that they can be enriched by your refreshing openness as much as you will be by experiencing such certainty. I wish you can build a life that is not so unfamiliar that it scares you, but so extraordinary you hadn't dared hoping for it. I wish that you will grow stronger and wiser and more beautiful with every hurdle in your way. And you shall cherish this world and every step you take in it, your heartbeat and the love it emanates, the countless possibilities and your own unmistakable path. I wish you a happy life.

And for myself, I wish to not become a ghost on some imaginary platform. That would mean a lot already.

Fingers crossed for you

People are falling apart out there. They are hurting themselves and cutting and transferring all their bruises from the inside to the outside. People who are trying to numb themselves with pain. I know that. Hell, I've been there. The toughest decision is not to take it out on yourself. And you have to make it day in, day out. The pain will not go away immediately. It will linger. It will almost tear you apart. But once you've found a valve for it - one that is not diminishing yourself, because let's face it: we cannot feast on ourselves and expect to not fade away - once you've found a valve, you will experience the pain and the dark going through you. Still scary, still nightmareish horror. But you will grow. You will be able to let go of the sorrow and let the good linger. Everyday a bit longer.
You cannot cut yourself down, like the rest of the world does. Reach out for yourself, be good to yourself. You only have that one body, that one soul. Your dreams and hopes and talents and weaknesses and fears and strengths - you need to hold on to them. Stop the cutting, the purging, the starving, stop beating yourself up. Show mercy. You can do it. Bit by bit. Step by step.

Why it is so crucial to make time for this:

I was angry with this day. When I got up really early and was told in school to come back 5 hours later. When I sat around in the office, unable to work because I had left my verb lists at home. When I drove back to school and was told to come again tomorrow. When I stood in line in the supermarket. When I mopped the corridor and cooked my lunch and tried to prepare this week's linguistic exercises - I was angry. I was so angry, I was ranting while biking to the park. Complaining about drivers and the wind and red lights... I was angry with this day. Possibly with myself.

On my way home, I am singing that Bruce Springsteen song. A smile is on my lips. I am at peace. For once. Not at war with myself.

I'll love you like I love you, then I'll die...

I was so preoccupied with my own fear of encountering you unexpectedly somewhere here, that I forgot.

I forgot Vienna's graffiti-stained skin.
Its gravity-strained skies.
The numbered clouds,
all neatly counted.
Number two is my favourite.
How could I forget?

How could I forge a sky
without sixteens?
No sum could make up for this.
You remain in the cracks,
a fractional number
with no name and no rain.

The wind whispers deluge,
and we wither away.
Our reflections in the puddles,
upsidedown and dislodged.
I've counted and calculated,
now I'm bankrupt of love.

Wunderbare Dinge

Morgen beginnt mein letztes Schulpraktikum und um den Entspannungsausgleich zu schaffen (und weil ich diese Woche ein unerhörtes Kilometerpensum gelaufen bin), habe ich dieses Wochenende hauptsächlich nur so rumgegammelt. Herrlich. Aber ab morgen gibts wieder Hundert Prozent. Praktikum, Tutorium, Verben kategorisieren, Masterarbeit abgeben, Schritt für Schritt alles abhaken. Außerdem geschieht nebenbei etwas. Es werden Tüten bedruckt. Das heißt - vielleicht werden Tüten bedruckt! Ich habe einen erneuten Anfall von Schenkwut. Die Opfer sind noch nicht auserkoren, aber das Leitmotiv ist schon klar. Außerdem will ein Sommer geplant werden, aber das muss vielleicht noch bis Weihnachten warten.Es findet sich Schritt für Schritt heraus.

Can we not do this, please?

Can we just be friends? Without you falling for me? Without me messing with you? Without the stale aftertaste of falling short?
Don't waste this feeling on me. I'm a player right now. Yet, I'm out of the game. I am the essence of "off limits". Don't get yourself hurt. Don't fall for me. Please don't.

Once more

Just the thought of falling in love like this again makes me dizzy. It crossed my mind a few days back. That I could fall like this again. I haven't made my mind up about it yet. Not that it would be a mind thing really.

I like the crazy and the mindless, the dizzy and the tumbling, the breathlessness and the pulling from inside my chest. It is autumn here. The leaves are falling like crazy, the air smells of rain and burning fires. And while my whole being begs to be released into the wild there's still a lesson to be learned...

Ich war nicht bereit. Überhaupt nicht. Ich weiß immer noch nicht genau, wie man ein Leben lebt, während man so liebt. Aber ich will eins. Ein Leben. Mein Leben. Ich will beides. Und konnte es nicht, kann es nicht, bin nicht bereit. Man erreicht nichts, man verdient nichts, man sammelt keine Punkte und hakt keine Etappen ab, aber für den Moment hat man etwas geteilt. Einen Blick. Ein Gefühl. Ein paar Meter Weg. Und wieder von vorn.
Wenn ich mir vorstelle, dass ich mich wieder so verlieben könnte... dann weiß ich noch nicht, wie. Weiß ich noch nicht, wie ich eine Frau lieben soll und gleichzeitig dieses Leben, diese Welt auch.

Ich war nicht bereit. Überhaupt nicht. Aber ich war mir sicher. So sicher. Als wärs Gewissheit. Wir sind immer noch - oder wieder? - am Anfang. Stell dir nur vor, das passiert uns noch mal! Nur größer. Weil im Jetzt immer alles größer ist. Vielleicht sind wir dann bereit? Oder werden es? Ich drück uns die Daumen.

Make love to something innocent

We've made the first 4 weeks. And I think we've done quite well. My first week of lectures lies behind me as well. I might have misjudged the organisation it takes to get the teaching, my seminars and the work done... But it is bound to get a bit easier with time, isn't it?

Today spring is making a guest appearance in Leipzig and I seized this opportunity to run through one of the forest-y parks of the city. It was absolutely amazing and there's a tiny little bit of regret in my heart that I didn't take a camera with me to share some of those stunning autumn scenes.

Wow. I can be dark.

Enough with the pity party. Enough. I have a beating heart. What more could I ask?

All of this is tearing...

I've been slacking a bit during the last days. I haven't been working. Or correcting my thesis. Or calling my grandpa. Or doing my laundry. I've been to the doctor and I spoke at the welcome lecture for the first year students, I met with my brother, painted our kitchen, rearranged the furniture, uploaded files to the e-learning platform, saw a dance performance in the city, went out to a pub... and still. I feel like I am hiding out from my life again. It makes me nauseous.
I still miss you. I still dream of you. I still think some great force should come along and fix this, please. Sometimes I think it would help if I had somebody to blame. Yet, I broke it off and am thus the only one to point fingers at. I am trying to negotiate with the dream factory in my head to cut back on your smile and your body, the hugs and kisses and the sex... but my brain just laughs at me and I am torn between sleeping forever and never going to sleep again.
Admitting defeat is not my style. I guess part of me will never stop hoping. I don't understand how I can love you so much. I don't get how people rationalize. I don't know how to stop setting out for the impossible again and again. I am trying to step down.
No christmas calendar this year, I guess. I'd already been collecting ideas... for another life maybe. For when we decide to make use of our superpowers. Maybe. And until then I will practice breathing exercises to avoid crying in the mornings. I will write the word "never" on all walls and try to believe it. I will demand less and get to the point where I master unconditionality.

I want to give up. I want to give in. I want to get over the strong notion of never wanting to be touched by anyone else. And yet I seem to have my very own definition of faithfulness...

[Sometimes I hope I die soon. So all of this can make sense...]

...and three's a charm...

Because I am having a halfway miserable weekend I came up with some melody for this text. It is not very elegant with respect to the rhythm of the verses and the end is improvised, but I think I'll leave it at that. There seems to be no point in tinkering with it any longer. Maybe another day.

Heroism

I can't quite decide whether I am childish or just refuse to succumb to all this desillusionment. Have you ever imagined yourself as a superhero? I mean, recently. Or maybe not as a superhero, but 'merely' as a hero? Someone who saves lives, nations, the world? Someone who has to put up against villains in the realm of impending desaster? Well. From time to time I do. For instance, today I have to categorize a list of roughly 200 verbs according to Levin's verb classes. And who knows, maybe someday that skill will come in handy? Maybe my knowledge that flow is a verb of entity-specific modes of being will save the world someday. Or my degree at least :).
I still think of my life as some kind of action movie and everybody else can be as grown up as they want. I will run as if there's a fight to prepare for, study as if it might save the world someday and live as ift the end was lurking round the corner. Pathos, here I come.

Alles hat seine Ordnung

Es ist schon witzig manchmal. Ich habe jemanden gefunden - durch Zufall -, der es versteht. Dass ich zwar nicht darüber sprechen möchte, aber fünf Abende die Woche bespielt werden muss. Mein ganz eigenes Integrationsprogramm, jetzt wo ich nach der Arbeit nichts mit mir anzufangen weiß, wo schlichtes miteinander Trumpf ist. Jedes Thema ist neu, alles muss "zurück" erobert werden. Ich nehme mir ein letztes erstes Semester.

Warum.

Ich werde noch sehr oft an den Punkt kommen, an dem ich mich selber nach dem Warum fragen werde. Deswegen folgt hier ein Nachtrag. Damit dieser Moment nicht verloren geht. Ein Brief, der letztlich nicht mehr abgeschickt werden musste.

21.9.2012

"I have been thinking about what is bothering me so much about your letter. I think I know now. I will send you this via mail, because it is not urgent, yet it is very importan.
This is hurting me a lot right now and I will not prmise - I cannot promise that I'll still be in love with you once you've made up your mind about wanting or not wanting a relationship. That makes me very sad. And this is what bothers me the most. Not the waiting. I am afraid I'm growing numb here. I am afraid that in the end you can miss me all you want and I won't care.
I left my phone in Leipzig and right now I feel I never want to come back to it.
I hope you'll be having a greast first week in Vienna and everything... but I'm in ruins and I don't think I'll be capable of making you feel anything other than worse. So I'll try to make myself scarce.
I will try to recover. I will try to not get hurt anymore than necessary. I will leave you to it and I am very afraid I'll never get it back."

To Vienna and back

In one day. The running commentary:

26.9. 3:25
When was the last time you did something for the first time? - Es ist halb vier morgens und ich fahre spontan nach Wien. Weil ich dich sehen muss. Weil ich dich umarmen will. Spontan. Nach Wien. Wer hätte das gedacht?

7:40
Sonnenaufgang in Prag. Für den Moment bin ich nicht mal nervös. Nicht mehr so wie auf dem Weg zum Bahnhof, als ich schon wieder heimgehen wollte, aus Angst das wird alles nichts. Ich fahr eben einfach hin. Und 10 Minuten wirst du für mich schon haben.
Die Musik im Auto ist inzwischen zu laut, um zu schlafen. Ich bin hundemüde aber auch zu aufgedreht. Es gilt, jeden Moment zu genießen. Sonnenaufgang in Prag. Wunderbar.

15:20
Surprisingly, this was worth every minute and every cent spent on the journey. We met for lunch and coffee. Almost 3 hours. And talked. Just talked. Normal catching up and a bit of the dreaded "how are you doing?".
I think today we've taken an important step. To coming out alive.

15:55
I am at Vienna airport. Waiting for my lift. There are awesome amounts of wind. I have a hard time breathing steadily, despite the feeling that today has been a success. I am trying to see my departure not as too final. I fill my lungs with air til the capacity of my chest is fully used. It is a good thing to like this city. A good thing to have been here. It is good.

22:05
Ich habe jeden Teil dieses Trips genossen: Den nächtlichen Aufbruch, den Balkanpop, Wiens Prachtwetter, dich zu sehen unf mit dir zu reden, den stürmischen Wind auf dem Wiener Flughafen und das Freiatmen, das Zeitfahren auf dem Heimweg. Alles.

23:40
Ich danke dir. Dass du das möglich gemacht hast.

I have to capture this moment. This first moment that I can really see that all the good this world has to offer still exists. Just imagine! There's so much to this life that is still awaiting us! You promise me, you won't settle for anything less than fabulous. And I will do the same.

I remember now. Why I wrote all those songs. I remember the feeling that let me venture for you. Just imagine that there are sixty more years of this! And all the things we can do! The people we could meet. I remember now. The great hope that lies in a vague future. The potential of our irrationalities. I know now what I'm in for. And I know you would agree with me if you read this.

Haven't we been here already?

The challenge for today is breathing. In and out. No sobbing. Just breathing.

My happiness is my own responsibility. I can choose this. Or I can choose to be awesome instead. I will try hard to choose awesome tomorrow. Or the day after. Or the day after that.

I've been with one of the greatest people this world has to offer. I will try to value this. To hold my head high. To grab this life with my hands. I'm starting today. With breathing. In and out. No sobbing.

---

Wow. I imagined this moment as a happier one. I'd planned going to Vienna the instant this thesis was finished. Just for a day. Just so I could let you know how great it feels to have this off my chest. Wow. Things change.

Wir stellen fest:

So richtig durchdacht war das offenbar nicht. Ich will dich anrufen. Deine Stimme hören. Dich küssen. Dir erzählen, dass mein kleiner Bruder auf Klassenfahrt ist und Marie aus dem Sprintbereich kommt. Ich will wissen, was du für Kurse hast und davon beeindruckt sein, was du alles lernen wirst. Ich will mit dir Kastaniensammeln gehen hier im Park und danach in zig Decken eingewickelt auf dem Balkon Sudokus lösen.
Ich möchte um uns kämpfen. So sehr, dass ich fast vergesse, dass das im Moment wenig bringt. Aber es hilft nichts. Ich stocke den Taschentüchervorrat auf und packe meine Tage voll in der Hoffnung, dass entweder Zeit oder das hier schnell vergeht. Denn das geht grad gar nicht. Du fehlst mir so, dass ich mir glatt beide Beine abhacken würde, um bei dir zu sein. Und wenns sein muss die linke Hand auch noch. Es tut weh.

I concluded that if there was a way

it would include this station either way. No matter if we decided to go there now or in 4 years' time.

I found the love of my life. With a less-than-elegant timing. And ill-equipped. But we tried nevertheless. Tried and tried. For bright mornings and worried nights for a whole new notion of distance and seemingly unlimited intoxication. And now we're here. Giving in finally.
I found the love of my life. Yesterday, I told her our relationship was over. I don't love her one bit less than I did at the very beginning. I am inclined to say I love her even more. And still.
There's no safety net. No masterplan. No we'll-get-back-together-once-we've-sorted-this-out. I broke up with the love of my life. So we could get out alive. Nothing more. Nothing less.
No future promises. No this-will-save-us-attitude. I found the love of my life. And then I broke up with her. It might be the stupidest thing I've ever done. Or it might have been the only reasonable option I had. But what is reason?

Change course now

I've been around for some time now,
the summers came and went,
and every sunrise followed a sunset,
time flowed without being bent,
and every August there were hot nights,
every Sunday just empty streets,
and sometimes I heard your voice,
but you weren't there with me.

I got drunk under starry skies,
stayed sober with nothing to dream,
and we waited for the next chapter,
not knowing what this one could mean.
Maybe more drugs would be helpful
or a little more love for you,
or could you knock me unconscious,
I think that might as well do.

Please remind me again what we wanted
and how far we are from it now,
empty shells of a dream left behind
and our ships long run aground.
I've been around for some time now,
for empty summers and lonely space,
and the echoes are slowly fading
it's just days and nights and days.

And every autumn we try anew,
this time in a last attempt,
and if it doesn't work out at all,
we'll just say it came and went.

hard-won truths

love is not a maybe thing

Es ist September - wir haben nicht genug getanzt.

Wir haben nicht genug geküsst im Juli, als es noch möglich war. Nicht oft genug wach gelegen in den viel zu kurzen Nächten. Wir haben nicht genug gelacht über uns und nicht genug getrunken, um davon schwindelig zu sein. Schon fast Herbst. Nur noch wenige Wochen, vielleicht nur ein paar Tage - nicht viel Zeit, um die Bilanz auszugleichen. Wir haben zu wenig gehofft im August. Zu wenig erwartet vom Leben, vom Sommer, von uns. Wir haben zu wenig getanzt, um das Leuchten wachzuhalten. Und nun? Ein letztes, verirrtes Glühwürmchen - aus den Urtiefen des Julis - flattert vorbei. Ein Herzschlag. Ein leises Lächeln. Also doch noch Sommer.

Not happy

Sometimes I think, happiness is not for me. Only Wednesday I wanted to write that I am starting to see the appeal in the concept of rest days. Turns out, I don't. Rest days are the worst and I spent most of today in bed trying to get it together. Just an hour ago I got around to finally doing at least something productive with this day, but I think that emotionally I am more on the fragile side still. At the point where I want to smash it all so I can stop being afraid about fucking it up. How ironic.

It never gets easier. You just get stronger.

You've been through this a thousand times now and everytime you seem to be caught by surprise again. So I will spell it out for you now. So that you never forget it:

It is like this. You are like this. No matter how many miles you run, how many pages you write, how many days you cross off. And this is your life. This is your very own personal challenge. It will be hard. And you will push on. Then it will get harder and you will struggle. It will get harder and you will grow tired and exhausted and you will fall. Time and again. Then you will get up. And maybe for some time it will be easy, even good. You will come out taller and stronger and up to life's hurdles. And then it will get harder. You will push on and refuse to fall again. You will push longer. But it will get harder and at some point you will grow tired and you will forget that you've been at this point before and you will fall. Again. Again and again. Then you will get up. This is your life. This is what you set out for when you decided to take up this challenge. It never gets easier. You level up.

An nichts außer an Wunder glauben.

Ich habe vor ein paar Wochen ein Lied im Radio gehört. Habe es gehört und mir eine Zeile eingeprägt, um es später zu googeln. Ich erkannte die Stimme, die mich immer findet, wenn es Sommer werden muss allem meteorologischen Versprechungen zum Trotz. Gegoogelt hab ich nicht. Aber ich hab die Bilder im Kopf gedreht und an dieses Lied gedacht. Eins nicht zum pumpen oder laufen oder gedankenlos frühstücken. Eins zum Replay-drücken immer wieder, während die Worte auf dem Bildschirm erscheinen. Und heute ist es soweit. Ich google den Mann mit den tollen Locken und da ist es. So viel Meer in einem Video. Seit gestern ist das neue Album draußen. Wird demnächst in diesem Zimmer rauf und runter laufen.

Fight this fight with me

I've written my first song in a year and wanted to share it. With no one in particular and not with everyone. So I am not posting it on facebook but keeping it in private realm of this blog. There is a great urge for change hovering above me and I am glad that its sheer violence is messing up my insides again. What a summer this is going to be! Change is in the making, a breakthrough is sending its harbingers. Fight this fight with me.

So far, so good...

Ich will mich ja hier nicht zu früh freuen, oder so, aber ich bin seit Dienstag am Schreiben meiner diversen Arbeiten und wenn alles gut läuft, bin ich am Sonntag mit den ersten beiden fertig. Irre. Was habe ich bisher immer beim Hausarbeiten schreiben gemacht? Habe ich etwa wirklich die meiste Zeit nur jammernd rumgesessen? Ausführlicher recherchiert? Großartiger formuliert? Es ist egal. Hauptsache der Zeitplan sitzt. Der sieht vor, jeden Tag mindestens 4 Stunden zu arbeiten und mindestens 2 Seiten zu produzieren. Bisher läuft das fabelhaft, allerdings handelt es sich zur Zeit ja noch um die "kurzen" Arbeiten, die man nach ein bisschen Lektüre schon mal so wegschreiben kann. Hoff ich. Bisher läuft Boethius jedenfalls ganz gut und ich werd versuchen, mir noch irgendeinen brillianten Zeitschriftenartikel dazu zu suchen und dann bin ich durch. Tada! Dann wären da noch ganze 45 Tage für mich und die Masterarbeit. Ha! Das wäre doch gelacht! Obwohl mir bei dem Gedanken ja leicht übel wird. Wie dem auch sei. Sollte sich herausstellen, dass ich hier gerade meinen persönlichen Schlüssel zum wissenschaftlichen Arbeiten gefunden habe, dann überleg ich mir das mit dem Doktorieren vielleicht noch mal.

"Man kann nicht nur von Luft und Liebe leben...

man braucht auch hin und wieder ein Erdnussbutterschnittchen.", sagt mein Bruder. Ich bin mir noch nicht sicher, ob er Recht damit hat. Bisher funktioniert der Luft-und-Liebe-Antrieb einwandfrei.

Vera ist in Vietnam und ich sitze über den letzten Seiten Prüfungsstoff, bevor in wenigen Tagen der Startschuss fällt für eine wahre Kaskade an To-Do-Listen. Das ist insofern gut, dass das Ziel gesetzt ist und jetzt einfach nur stur darauf hingearbeitet werden muss. Außerdem vergeht die Zeit dann wie von allein.

Luft und Liebe. Ich habe gerade mein Virenscanprogramm geöffnet und stelle fest, dass es mit einem Slogan aufwarten kann, der mir ein Lächeln aufs Gesicht zaubert: "Protecting the irreplaceable." Sollte eigentlich jeder versuchen. Ob das nun Luft und Liebe ist oder der Regenwald, die eigene Gesundheit oder das Masterarbeitsdokument. An manchem gilt es festzuhalten. Protecting the irreplaceable. Man kann vielleicht nicht nur von Luft und Liebe leben. Aber ohne geht es gar nicht. Da hilft auch kein Erdnussbutterschnittchen.

"Denn wenn du sprichst, ist der Rest nur noch egal"

Es riecht in der ganzen Stadt nach Benzin. Wenn der Funke jetzt überspringt, steht alles in Flammen. Aber an Feuer glauben wir eigentlich nicht mehr. Das Einzige, was brennt, ist das Chlor in den Augen. Wir wälzen uns in feuchten Wiesen und schicken schon lange keine Nachrichten mehr über den wässrigen Himmel. Auf deinem T-Shirt steht "Kein Morgen", und leise, fast ohne dass wir es merken, ziehen auch Heute und Jetzt die Tür hinter sich ins Schloss.
Wir sind das hier. Denken wir zumindest. Wir zerstäuben Benzin zu feinem Nebel, weil es so gut riecht und weil die Zigarettem ohnehin alle sind. Die Pfützen schillern und wir warten auf den einen Funken, der das alles hier zum Inferno macht. Zünd mich an.

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Es ist nicht zu erklären. Das ist der Punkt. Darum keine Posts hier. Keine Gedichte anderswo. Keine Lieder auf der Festplatte. Es ist nicht zu erklären. Zu wissen, dass alles kommt, was auch die letzten 24 Sommer versprochen haben. Unaufhaltsam und unverdient. Das Reißen im Brustkorb und die zittrigen Hände... unteilbar. Ich schlage es an die Wände und treffe nicht den Ton, renne durch die Straßen und finde nicht den Weg, ich kann es nicht begreiflich machen. Was dieses Gefühl ist und dass dies mein Antrieb ist, meine Aufgabe und mein Preis... Traurigkeit und Schönheit gehören zusammen. Und zu erkennen, dass vielleicht das hier schon das große Glück ist, ist eine einsame Angelegenheit.

Happiness snuck up on her

Watch out, I’ll roam the streets tonight,

setting everything ablaze, ‘cause I am on fire,

I’m a stream of hot tears of joy,

telling a story: girl meets boy,

it’s always the same and always new,

between amethyst skies and sapphire blue –

and you hold my heart like others hold cigarettes:

drawing from it, getting higher, ‘til it’s glowing red.

Watch out, I’ll roam the streets tonight,

shedding my clothes to fuel your desire,

to be consumed by you to the last drop,

to make your eyes shine and your heart Stop.

I’ll run around houses, whispering your name,

write it on the walls as my favourite game

that I am winning time and time again –

say, will there ever be an end?

Watch out, I’ll roam the streets tonight,

rearranging clouds, so you see it in the sky:

“take all of this cinder heart,

take it, break my chest apart!“,

I’m a stream of hot tears, I’m a swirl

singing a song: how girl meets girl

and they’re burning up with this feverish love

they part ways and collide and it’s never enough.

Die besten Ferien überhaupt?

Ich bin noch nicht ganz sicher. Aber im Moment fühlt es sich auf jeden Fall so an. Erst Finnland mit großartigem Schnee und noch großartigeren Menschen, in kleinen und größeren Städten, voller Winterfreude und Neugier darauf, wie das wohl alles im Sommer aussieht, wo jetzt nur Weiß ist. Dann ein bisschen Nichtstun, ein bisschen Inventur, viel Lesen. Ein Innsbruckbesuch, bei dem auch Luxemburgisch gesprochen wurde und Sommer gespielt so gut es ging. Und ich habe mir eingebildet, diese Ferien würden ewig dauern. Ich wollte nicht in die Bibliothek und Englischbücher wälzen, nicht nach einem Thema suchen für meine Masterarbeit, die immer lauter in meinem Hinterkopf tickt... also ließ ich es bleiben, die meiste Zeit und lief und schlief und war glücklich und die Zeit verging wie nebenbei. Frühlingsanfang, Frau Q. kommt aus Japan zurück und urplötzlich ist es Ende März und ich halte eine wunderbare Frau in den Armen. Wir haben außergewöhnlich viel Zeit, da sie sich entschließt, doch über Ostern da zu bleiben. Zeit zum ins Kino gehen und Freunde treffen, zum Kuchen backen und Dresden erkunden, zum Kaffeetrinken und Bücher schauen, zum Stadtwald durchstreifen und Häuser bewundern. Und für Sex, Herzklopfen, Bettgespräche und dieses unwirklich strahlende Lächeln natürlich auch.

Es macht mich froh, auch ein bisschen quasi-Alltag mit Vera zu teilen und aus diesen zwei Welten doch wieder eine zu machen. Wenn sie bei uns Zuhause ist, fühlt sich das immer natürlich an. Keine Fremde, auch wenn manches noch fremd ist. Und es ist eindrucksvoll, zu sehen, wie man Familie wird irgendwie. Wie Opa mich vor ein paar Monaten noch fragte, wer denn nun dieses Mädchen ist da in Innsbruck und nun sitzt sie mit uns allen am Tisch zum Osterkaffeetrinken und ist Teil des Ganzen. Das fasziniert mich und es macht mich glücklich. Ich weiß nicht, wann ich es zuletzt so genossen habe, für Ostern zu backen, den Osterstrauß zu schmücken, Eier zu suchen und mit meiner Familie zusammen zu sein. Ich spüre, dass es passt. Es passt. Angekommen.

Angekommen bin ich nun auch wieder in Leipzig. Ich muss meine Sachen packen und alles fertig machen für Morgen. Denn es geht zum Kongress des Altphilologenverbandes nach Erfurt. Ich bin gespannt und muss noch ein bisschen verlorenen Schlaf nachholen, um die anstehenden Vorträge richtig aufnehmen zu können. Aber auch darauf freue ich mich. Alles ist wieder in Bewegung. Das neue Semester beginnt. Und heute ist der letzte Tag von ganz und gar großartigen Ferien.

Confessions

I would have done almost anything for the remote chance of being read. For the opportunity to reach out and make somebody - anybody - listen. My life was full of wonders and I wanted to make everyone a believer. I wrote revolutionary and mediocre paragraphs alike. I was a true confessional writer, just on the brink of fiction from time to time.
But things have changed. I tried to learn other, more wholesome, ways of communicating, putting the content of thousands of would-be poems on display without rhythm. Skipping words as a way of understanding and dismissing verse as a way of mapping the world. For she reads the wonders from my eyes. There is no need for poetic documentary, for hiding between the lines.
These days words only serve the purpose of magic. Of lighting dark rooms. Of painting grey skies. Of making you believe... that reality is always different from what we thought it would be.

Die Tage werden lang

Es ist verrückt. Einfach irre. Beides. Dass diese Welt nicht aufhört, neu zu sein. Dass man manchmal glaubt, man hätte schon alles gesehen. Es wird Frühling. Nach 3 Wochen Winter. Nachdem es in Finnland fast jeden Tag geschneit hat und auch der Nachthimmel so hell war vom Schnee in Jyväskylä, ist es seltsam, hier zu sein, wo die Luft nach Lagerfeuer riecht und nicht nach Kaminholz, wo man an der Ampel steht, die auf grün springt, sodass man plötzlich losrennen möchte und die Arme ausbreiten, um rücklings in den Himmel zu fallen. Ich grinse. Natürlich liegt es nicht am Schnee. Nicht an neuentdeckter Musik, die aus den Kopfhörern schallt oder länger werdenden Tagen. Nicht daran, dass bald März ist oder keine Uni. Oder auch. Aber vor allem daran, dass all das wieder etwas wert ist. Dass die Welt sein darf, sein soll - als würde sie sich dafür interessieren, was ich zu sagen habe!

Frühling also. Und das dreifarbige Herz in der Hosentasche schlägt. Bummbumm. Gut so.

It hurts

The icy cold helps with the numbing. I guess I am missing a certain chromosome that would help me dealing with this in another way. Every day I am back to square one.

Steig auf, ich trage auch dich. Einer muss es tun - die Schwerkraft gebietet es! Kletter auf meinen Rücken zu den Nächten und Zweifeln, da ist noch Platz. Ich trage auch dich. Und wenn mir die Beine schwer werden und die Füße den Dienst versagen, will ich meine Flügel breiten - gedeckt mit Himmelblau - und werde für dich glauben. Steig auf! Lieber vertraue ich mich der Erschöpfung an, verpfände ich dem Gewaltmarsch jeden einzelnen Herzschlag, als dich verloren zu geben. So lange es geht, denn niemand kennt die Grenze, keiner weiß, wie weit - auch ich nicht. Doch Fliegen heißt Fallen. Die Schwerkraft gebietet es. Und so wissen wir, wo es hingeht, wissen um den Grund, der uns erwartet. Dort unten. Vielleicht.
Steig auf! Ich trage auch dich. Bis ich falle. Und dann noch ein Stück. Und dann - einer muss es tun - gibt mich die Schwerkraft der Erde zurück.

New Agenda.

I take back what I said before: I am here now. I understand now that it is really the only place that I have. So no diffusion for me.

Diffusion

I am not here. Because I am afraid to be here. To be all in here again. Up to my neck. So I am holding back. I am not here. But I am not anywhere else either. Feels like I'm evaporating into thin air. More than ever I realize that I am not home, I am not whole, but fractured with my soul struggling to close the distance between the pieces. I am not here. I am not anywhere.

I am worth everything you want to give me. And more.

Wir brechen auf

Zu Fenstern, durch die wir mit ausgetreckten Gliedern springen können, ohne den Rahmen zu berühren. Zu Böden, auf denen wir liegen können, um uns geerdet zu fühlen. Zu diesem einen Lächeln, das uns im Nieselregen abholt. Heute ist es wieder wahr. Dass wir Kinder sind mit blinkendem Blick. Wir müssen uns nicht erlauben zu träumen. Wir tun es einfach. Ob unsere Augen geschlossen sind oder nicht. Wir sind bereit, alles Licht der Welt mit Schere-Stein-Papier zu gewinnen und es dann auszugießen über Dächer und Felder. Komm, wir fliegen davon! Nicht fort, nur unserem Sehnen hinterher.

"I'm deranged.

Deranged, my love."

Was wir tatsächlich sind; was von uns bleibt, wenn wir alles abwerfen, was uns zu schwer erscheint... Wie lächerlich oft wir wünschen, dass verschwände, was uns überhaupt erst eine Existenz einräumt! Wie wir es lieben, uns tragisch zu spiegeln; uns in Fetzen an Häuserwände zu werfen; die Augen zu schließen, Müdigkeit vorschiebend.

Was sind wir tatsächlich? Was bleibt als objektive, bereinigte Summe?

Sie gab ihr Haar den Winden zum Ausgießen, das goldgedichtete, und heftete zwischen die Sterne ihr Herz, sie blies Kaugummis zu Heißluftballons und zählte mit zitternden Fingern die Sekunden, bis das Warten aufhört, fest überzeugt, dass zehn genug wären.