28.10.08

So lady-like when you come in.
So man-like when you leave.

It’s hard being here, knowing you are there. This place doesn’t fit me.
I want to wake up in your mess, just to show you how life-like it all is.

Life is raw. Life is rare.
I would burn it if it wasn’t already on fire.
I look at your images. They make me want to dance the whole night long.
You make me want to live truly.

I really love you. I really do.
I know it now for sure.

Ohad and I are sitting at the kitchen table, drinking gin tonic and playing a game of Last-Year-In-Marienbad with sugar cubes. Marissa walks into the kitchen where we sleep these days.
We look up at her. She sends us a ridiculous grin. Ohad and I look at each other.
“So. Ok. You guys got to leave. I think it was a misunderstanding. Maybe it wasn’t clear, but I thought Wednesday. Elmira told me she told you. But now she tells me you think you told her Saturday. Is it Friday or Saturday? Because I thought Wednesday. I just can’t have it now. I…Ich…stress. You. Guys. Leave. Ok?”
I stare at the 4 rows of sugar cubes in front of me and take out 2 from the row closest to me. Ohad picks up one from the row of 1. There’s 3 rows left. I pick up all 7 cubes from the row of 7.
Ohad looks at the cubes on the table.
“Fuck”, he says. “You win again.”

 

      
30.10.8 

  (to my teacher)

Me and my ego walk into the classroom.
Most of the girls are busy looking occupied.
The guys, they are busy looking smart.
You.
You sit on the table.
Your legs saying everything I need to hear this morning.
You talk so much.
You know I am not listening.
You know I am busy making pictures of other things in my head.

I smile.
You make yourself believe that I am following you.
You ask if I understand what you are talking about.
You know I don’t.
I say I do.

I take out my notebook.
Write down some words.
Make it look like I am listening.
I ask a question.
You answer.
I ask another question.
You answer.

I stop asking questions.
You stop answering.

I look at your shoes.
They look like the ruby slippers of Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz.
Maybe if you tap your heels together three times we would go back to your place?

There is no place like your home.
There is no place like your home.
There is no place like your home.

Oh my teacher.
My fountain of knowledge.
Teach me how to be good.
Teach me how to be true.

I’m sitting in a blue building of the Art and Design department in The Folkwang University in Essen. A girl with shaky eyes sits across from me. Her fingers play with a plastic bottle. We listen to a guy who talks about the body of an object.
Just before this moment, I asked the girl about her pictures.
“Can I answer in German?”
I mumble ‘yes’ and totally loose track of all the German words that leave her lips that look like a William Eggleston picture in the winter. She calmly faces me while talking. I’m shaky and glad that I’m sitting on a table to hold on to.
She stops. I have no clue what her last words were. Is she finished? Did she leave me a question? Does she sense that I’m not following her? Does the rest of the class? Is this a test? 
I start nodding my head a few times, say ‘mmm’ and try to look like I’m thinking over the things she just said.
Then she helps me out: “Verstehen Sie?” she asks.
“Ja, ja”, I say, and then, realizing this means ‘whatever’ in German, I add quickly: “yes, I do”.
And I do.

Narcissus was right to tunnel all his affection back towards himself. He understood something about life. He was not an egoist for sure. He just knew he had too much love to give that there would be no way in the world he could divide it up between all the people around him.

So I’m dreaming this dream wherein Ohad and I are talking about the direction our project has got to take. We’re strolling around on a train platform somewhere in Finland.
“I think Russia is our next step,” Ohad says.
“You sure? We’ve just started this thing in Finland?” I say.
“Well, we’ve been here since yesterday. I really think we’ve covered it.”
“Okay, let’s get a train to Russia then,” I sigh. “But it really has to be
deep-deep-north, right?”
“Of course.”
We ask at the information desk about trains leaving for North-Russia.
“You just missed it. It left 2 minutes ago. The next one doesn’t leave until tomorrow.”
“We cannot wait for that,” I reply. “What else you got?”
“There is a fast train to Romania, it leaves in 3 minutes from platform 5.”
I look at Ohad. A smile appears on his face.
Romania, that’s exactly what we need.
We start running.