Marinkel *'s blog/

i am going to paris tomorrow. i won't tell you why. but i will kick some major ass on josef... :)

this is an entry from myspace... i am thinking of moving everything from there, but am undecided (yes, yes, libra never makes up her mind cause she wants it all...) this was a rather long rambling thing i wrote whilst in paris.

"i am trying to find a life thread, where did it begin, where does it lead to, where does it end? i am neither this nor that, i don't live at some center, my mind wanders through time/space. i want to say something bright, brighter than the sun on a parisian nightmare full of blinking red light districts, coffee shops with bleeding corpses that have left no trace but a feeling. cobblestones do get slippery when wet and you go gliding on shoes and wheels and iron chains.
that hold you prisoner
but further you go sliding
as if pulled
and you feel stupid writing this but the pulling force is stronger than the voice that tells you how fucking stupid you are.
even this you write down
while you remember stupid postcards and now you can never publish this cause you expose a weakness a voyeuristic bend you are meaning to hide. and the parisian night continues to rain down on you and now you think you sound smart again and you are afraid it might stop and you remember how someone called you smart and wise and beautiful and all the things you don't believe but they sound good and then he pops into your head again and how you walked hand in hand through an intestinal central park and you wonder why you thought of the word intestinal when you meant to say incestual but which sounded utterly unfit in this context. but then words don't need to follow rules only if you make them. a poet can use words the way a painter uses red in a blue sky. a rose in a desert sky. and again you're back in memories although you wanted to describe the now and the parisian rain but parisian rain brings with it the thoughts of old. how long can you remain in the now before you go back to something past. and the rain reminds you of a place you have to go back to. and even here there are many sad stories and suicides and heartbreaking ends. so why do you think you will live better here than there? and you think that you may be able to publish this afterall, maybe take out a couple of lines, alter it later, make it sound even more odd.
but then someone called you honest.
you think of another fairytale you could tap into or which mythological entity you could draw from. hansel and gretel could be understood as the two hungry souls within one body. and if you think of it, you have been neglecting your masculine side like hansel being locked inside the cage where he is starving himself so as not to be recognized and eaten by the very wicked witch. and you make this your gretel task, to rescue your man and save yourself and become whole again.

and now your stream of consciousness has come to a screeching halt and you wonder why the hell you write here in this nomansland. i have yet to figure out"

you've heard this phrase "all is fair in love and war"... is it true though? would you do anything to get what you want? would you cheat, blackmail, deceive, feign friendship, tell lies so you could win or keep the one you love? when you feel betrayed you feel the whole world is against you and has treated you unkindly. then there is the question whether you would have done the same injustice to someone else if you felt you had to, satisfy an ego craving. but then, aren't ego relationships without substance? when you are giving love freely in the ideal world you will not expect anything back, unless it is also freely given. a forced love isn't love. a love won through deceit - can it be love?

but then, don't we build new cities on old graves, new happiness on old pains? birth never happens without blood shed. though this never excuses the pain we cause each other...

chain reaction

i walked home from the street festival alone. the moon shone her rays onto my path. it had been raining off and on so the cobble stones were glistening in the silver light. people had gotten drunk and as they will when losing inhibitions had thrown their bottles in the street, littering it with broken glass. i had left the happy couple behind, they were off to return to the spot where they had first met just two months ago. it was still early into their relationship, all was new, and the shadows on the horizon had not caught up with them. possibly they could continue running from them forever. but my head and heart had grown heavy and i was no longer able to do the petty small talk, despite the few beers i had consumed in order to alleviate my dark mood. i should have known better that a dark mood only gets darker from the drug. ominous as the night had begun, it had simply penetrated my skin. and so i forgot that i needed to avoid a particular street, a particular house, a certain window. it was still lit, and as if i had forgotten, i peeped in and i saw them in a close embrace. the woman turned to face me and gave me the provoking glance that said she had taken my place, taken over my home, taken over his heart. it felt like a game between me and her. then the lights went dark. the drama had been played out, a short scene to make my scars bleed anew. i understood why the wolves howled at the moon - to release the evergrowing emptiness of the heart. suddenly i felt a presence behind me, someone had been following me, watching me. out of the shadow i heard his broken voice, saying, "it appears you are still not over him" then his footsteps disappeared into the night.

is it the writing that keeps you at an arm's length? you want to stay here, he asked. she said no, i couldn't be bothered, and she grabbed her new fur coat and left. she couldn't be bothered, he mumbled under his breath, piss off then, and he slammed the door behind her. he turned to face the damage that'd been left behind but he never saw what she had done to his insides. only years later, the doctors told him he had a rare heart disease. but the sensation that came right after was one he would never forget. as if in a trance he lay upon the rough orange carpet in the hall so that his back touched the ground. from underneath him came a rumbling noise and he felt a strange tingle in his right hand shoulder blade. something entered his body and pierced straight through his chest. the neighbors later recalled a scream so unearthly it made their blood freeze. he saw what had caused the tingle was growing out of his chest, with multiple black arms, turning into branches, becoming a tree. leaves began to sprout and bright red cherries appeared on the ends of twigs. his mouth was a big gaping hole from which not a sound escaped now. he must have lay there for hours, days on end. blossoms blew around him, white soft gentle ones making him forget the pain. i should have been kind, he thought. then a cherry plummeted to earth and fell into his gaping mouth. he choked and closed his eyes. when he opened them again, the tree had returned to from where it had sprung. but nothing was as it had been before. he said later, he considered himself lucky the tree hadn't pierced his beating heart.

looks like i am moving again, this time to PARIS!!!! yey. well, so i need a flat, an appartement, une chambre dans une coloc... anything! si vous avez des suggestions pour moi, je les féliciterais...

xoxo

and yes, quite mad as well... ;)

i do love quotes and this one i just came across and would like to share. so i am. i have been a fan of anaïs nin since my teens (and have not updated, possibly is but a teen craze, isn't it?), loved the film "henry and june" as well as the book, used to fantasize about impossible love affairs. when they do happen, of course, it isn't as romantic as all that, but rather painful. and yet, one does get a good bit of writing out of them (see shakespeare and so on...) so without further ado, here it is:

Our love of each other was like two long shadows
kissing without hope of reality.
– Anaïs Nin

ce soir, si vous êtes sur paris, venez chez "edwards and sons" sur la place pigalle pour prendre un verre avec moi et quelques amis. c'est un double anniversaire de moi et de mon amie cécile. moi, je ne parle beaucoup de francais, mais les autres, oui! ;)

see you there!

xoxo

i am getting so used to seeing who comes and looks at my pics. and then there are those mysterious "anonymous" ones. that bugs me now. you should join ipernity and show us your face! :))

not that i

m

 a spy

or any   THING

i have been neglecting this little space, not by choice as i am still trying to connect to the internet from my new home. i have a key and a card, but nothing works. just wanted let everyone know in case you are feeling neglected... also sorry to have missed the ipernity meeting in paris. i will visit a vernissage at the place de vosges this saturday, more details later, if anyone would like to come!

bisoux a tous!

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like the lyrics, like the beat. nothing to hide.

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who changed my ipernity to "mein ipernity"? without asking. i don't want it. i want my english back. and my mtv.

call me stupid (i dare you!) but i cannot find my own favorites. since things changed here, i've been confused. don't get me wrong, i love change, but i am like a headless chicken for a while until i readjust. so where can i view my own favorites? and other people's favorites? when someone faves a pic of mine i want to see what else they like... puts things in perspective and lets me get to know you. why else have that fave button?

also, i don't like that once a bit of time passes we don't know if someone has commented back on one of our comments unless we click on their picture again. and then we seem obsessed with this picture though we may not even like it that much and so we have to make ourselves anonymous so we don't seem like stalkers. actually i have never made myself invisible. something so harry-potter about this. so if i look at your picture ten times, don't worry, i am not gonna come knocking on your door... though that depends... ahaha.

i stole myself away from you

without waking your eyelids

leaving the scent of orange blossoms

on your fingertips

i feel so much safer with those machine gun wearing soldiers underneath the eiffel tower.

so i finally went to see it up close. last time i did was in 1990. memorable day that. i remembered this picture we took with the pointy monument between my legs, haha. it's somewhere burried amongst my scattered things, in germany or in orleans or in oblivion. this time i came here at night and i don't recommend it alone. come with an escort, ladies. and don't use your camera like a tourist. there will be an indian guy with a ridiculously blinking miniature of the tower in your face. when you tell him what you think of it, he will pursue you even more to where you are getting really annoyed. and while you had been initially scoffing at those soldiers and had highly liberal thoughts on imaginary terrorist plots to keep the population in check, you now are grateful when they escort you from the premises. still, the indian guy with the blinking dick in his hand wants to come home with you. with the help from a homeless drunk who'd like to show you the way but not share his cheap bottle of poison. thankfully neither of them can afford the train ticket and you arrive safely on platform three.

i think i'll stay away from the eiffel tower for another decade. unless i come with you.

my very best friend louise has sent me some birthday books. as i was in the midst of changing addresses etc. in september they only just arrived. and this morning i opened the first page on the train and got too excited for words about the first paragraph. so before i start my day i have to share this with you. it's just so relevant to everything i've been thinking about of late...

"above all remember this: that magic belongs as much to the heart as to the head and everything which is done, should be done from love or joy or righteous anger.
and if we honour this principle we shall discover that our magic is much greater than all the sum of all the spells that were ever taught. then magic is to us as flight is to the birds, because then our magic comes from the dark and dreaming heart, just as the flight of a bird comes from the heart. and we will feel the same joy in performing that magic that the bird feels as it casts itself into the void and we will know that magic is part of what a man is, just as flight is part of what a bird is."

from "the ladies of grace adieu" by susanna clarke

enjoy the magic....

pardon my french, it sucks. hehe. but i cannot make sense of this monday curse of late. i usually have mondays off since i work saturdays. but i've been working the last six mondays i'm sure. so today i finally get my monday, alone... and aaaaaarg, my neighbor decides to nail in a new wooden floor next to my head at eight thirty in the morning. how evil is that!!!!

i've sent the cat to take care of the problem, so i expect silence to ensue shortly. but now i'm up, ain't i! another monday with a freakin headache...

a repost from my myspace blog...

"there is not much to say. there are many things happening all at the same time. your body works like a clockwerk. orange. ma vie en orange. clicking. ticking away the hours. meeting in restaurants. sly looks. weak knees. your hand brushes barely against me. electrecutions from a faulty radio. even toasters can kill when wet. but i think of your eyes after your lips depart. impenetrable and dark. halfclosed. human. how long have we been here searching each other. in dark bars. down empty streets. sunday afternoons when all you want is sipping tea in purplecolored armchairs. a missed kiss. a faulty embrace. and the real one follows. paint the wall grey. and throw your smile upon it. word flow while you remain silent. throw your smile upon the wall. it will blossom into words of enchantment. blinding colors. dark and impenetrable. are you happy?"