Marinkel *'s blog

Wer, wenn ich schrie, hörte mich denn aus der E n g e l Ordnungen ?

sorry for non-german speakers. i will translate later... this speaks through me right now so much...

sundays are not always as sunny as the sun might have it
residues of reveries you went too far the night before
you journeyed to the end of it and didn't buy the ticket to return
i want you to read my words, each and every single one of them
and not just read them but deform them, mold them, taste them, debase them, adore them

read them out loud down the corridors of the louvre
so loud that the echo of your voice reaches to the catacombs below
so loud that the cat mummies awaken and begin to howl in unison

there was my blood on your skin, your hands didn't want to erase
your fingers wrote my name

read my words and spit them back at me in polaroid colors
because i cannot feel them on a sunday
i am without walls or limits
crush me with my words, let me feel your violence
it is a violence of the paint brush
a crashing of the waves that are my name

sunday
make me scream

leafing through the dusty pages of our beginnings
i more than ever
sensed your infinite sadness
searching through empty halls
running the paths among falling leaves
your face scratched
your hands empty
and your dark eyes turning darker with the tides

i sensed more than ever
your infinite loneliness
that you keep searching for more
instead of less
screaming and reaching out
empty handed
in your head
you have a family of kings
and your mother makes you supper
the evening colors enveloping you warmly
 

it isn't all a dream
will you ever know?

and his infinite ways
to surprise me

for my sister it's her birthday today
she doesnt really like to read english
but i write it better
she is always there for me
and we have had our many trials
but where would i be without her
where would i have been
if she had not held my hand through so many dark hours
held me through so many happy times too
she knows me like no other
knows my inner world
is not blinded by what i show in the light
cause she has sung to me in the dark

live your dreams
you know you can

i just received something wonderful in my mailbox, something i thought was lost. two years ago i conducted an interview with ray caesar, the artist, together with my friend matthieu... my friend couldn't find the sound file after this, what a mess, since i had planned to transcribe it ! now he was listening to music and suddenly there was ray caesar's voice talking... i couldn't be happier right now!

what is your favorite word? sometimes we have different favorites in different languages, but me i love the words "among" and "beyond" in any language. actually don't know them in many... in german it is "zwischen" (which also means between) and "jenseits". am actually quite partial to "jenseits"... in french it is "parmi" and "au-delà"...

which is closely connected to my favorite time of day, twilight. i love the word too. in german even more "zwielicht" but also "dämmerung"... pure poesie. it is that time that stands still, the magic hour, when things are born. change. shift. unnoticed. when rocks move without anyone seeing it clearly. the corner of your eye vision only.

to my chagrin i learned the other day that there is no french equivalent. is that true? can that be true?

finally the dates are in ! i am putting my pictures up tomorrow at the 116 Bar at the Maison de Radio France, paris so you will be able to see them

between the fourth and the 31st of july (weekends closed)

the vernissage will be

on the 17th of july from 6 to 8:30

and here is the lovely poster designed by my good friend kale friesen who hasn't joined ipernity yet, but i'm working on it ! :)

puppets without strings

hope to see you there!

finalement j'ai les dates pour l'exposition ! j'accroche mes photos demain au 116 Bar à la Maison de Radio France, paris et vous pouvez les voir

du 4 jusqu'au 31 juillet, 2008 (fermé les weekends)

le vernissage serra

le 17 juillet de 18:00 à 20:30

et violà l'affiche de mon bon ami kale friesen qui n'est pas encore sur ipernity mais je vais le persuader... :)

j'espère de vous voir là-bas !

there was this bird, a proud one though he was strange looking. he had not seen himself in the mirror perhaps or else he just didn't care. a lust for life kept him standing there. he wanted to partake. so he left his home in the tree where he had lived a hundred years. yes; he was an old bird though you couldn't tell.

he met a lion who told him to keep moving on. sunsets to be greeted and nighttimes to be welcomed in proper ceremony. but shouldn't i read a hundred books first, he asked the lion who looked rather literate and wise. it is not in books although you may find there the same quest taken by the heros and heroines of the world. some wrote them down so they wouldn't forget. but you have to go on this quest yourself. it is not one in this world though it was made for you.

the bird bent over the water then feeling a thirst growing in his throat. then he saw his reflection and he was content. slowly he lifted his beak, letting the water trickle down his throat. there was nothing to be done but wait. the truth from the stars shone in this pool each night. if he just remained here.

our bird has a heart now. scientist saw him and dissected him in another life. in this one he could feel how his heart filled, first with sorrow then with light. he did not know it was the scientists who placed these things in his heart cavern.

maybe cause it's late at night or maybe it's cause i just learned that some of the photos i picked for my show were rejected, including "je suis cette fille", "arielle" and "venusian lamb" which i thought were some of my best work... so i have to revise my selection somewhat. something more "diplomatique"....

who knew i was too controversial for the radio !

blah.

i have just completed my final selection and placed my order for all my photographs that will be part of my exhibition in july at radio france in paris. more details to come, but for now, have a peek at the set on flickr... i don't know how to import an entire album, so just click the link...

flickr.com/photos/marinkelchen/sets/72157604754873918

:))

yesterday's french word-of-the-day was "seuil", do you know it? you were crossing a threshold and so was i, circling the goodbye in the métro like a couple of hunters afraid of the prey. you were franchiring le seuil and i kissed you on the brink. there is only forward movement you would say with your scientific certainty but i will go below to turn over the magician's books to prove you wrong. dusty overgrown pages that tell what science is on the brink of discovering. and yet when you cross the threshold, it may be into the fourth dimension or the fifth, like alice did. human steps have always gone one step beyond...

i was laughing
cause i was no longer afraid to speak
at the bottom of the night
or was it the crown of the sea
at the edge of the heart
or in the middle of dark marble eyes
obsidian blues
can no longer make me cry
i was laughing
cause i can finally say
at the tip of my throat
in cirlces around my tongue
extensions into the starry starry night
where we belong
free as freight trains running on sand

words are failing failing failing me
as we are falling through the cracks
out of sight of the sun
hands are useful for touching your skin
not for holding on

heartbat batters its wings
leap into the night
when i was not scarred
nevermore scared
but kissed

here are some excerpts from my favorite astrologer, cause i don't like those bland sunnyside horoscopes:

http://www.bemyastrologer.com/sun_sign_downside.html

it's got a lot of truth and a lot of funny in it! xxx

on the tenth floor
is a gate to
somewhere
behind the canister of gasoline
on your return
wake up the dead please
they've been sleeping long enough
beneath
their hollow eyes
and withered lips
im letzten stadium
des daseins
schreibst du wieder
wie es damals war
einfach und einfallsreich
vergessen im winde
ohne arm und beine
hinter der scheune
zum ersten zungenkuss

finally went to the louvre. was all giddy inside knowing i would finally meet her, you know who. had heard the stories how supposedly disappointing the whole experience would be. "she's so small", they had said. "too much hubbub around her", they complained. but i knew it would be fantastic. so i enter the large room and i see her right away, centered, hovering above a thousand heads, suspended in air, a three-dimensional ghost protruding from the ether. it is this gaze that is just not phazed by anything. and the artistic experience becomes my walk from the door toward her, as if in a trance, tears wetting my eyes. she is the unattainable mother. see all these attention seekers she simply ignores. even when you see her up-close you never know what she is thinking. and this is the genius of the painting, da vinci has captured that feeling of distance, of the never-knowing, of the impenetrable gaze of her. there are other moments between us when we may enter the other's world, like a dark dark cave shining a small light of a candle. but this one never lets us and it kills. but i give her this if she leaves me mine...

a bad day, ending in the metro. where i see him, a mad man in a pin-striped suit. and he makes me feel so alive, the only one making sense to me. i had leafed through gucci dresses and versace shoes and it all made me so dizzy and sick, too much normality, a sickening past-time to kill life's ennuie i just hate to partake in. give me this crazy man with the giant grin, arms spread, ready to leap in front of the train, if only in play. later i see him again, he moves from car to car, entering mine. so i notice the cause of his disease, an air bubble poking out of his head, a leasion on his brain perhaps. it nearly makes me cry. nothing he can do to remove the pressure, it always attacks him from behind. but his performance is grand. he wears his costume well, a perfect match for his eyes turning to thin upward slits. all of him is spreading, his mouth, his arms, his voice. mad like the sun. you may not enter...

i don't blame you. we each travel in our own space machines.

i got up early. i have scratches across my hand. diary of losses. diary of treasures. treasures of moments rather than lifetimes, brief encounters. one-second glances, two-minute touches. is what counts these days. realizing you cannot hold on to anything. what you thought was true only yesterday turns around and tells you you were so wrong. i am ready to accept this. "we can only change what we accept", says jung. the world keeps spinning and moving further away from the center and my arms stretch longer, more desperately. i am writing for you, i seem to understand you better than i understand myself.