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"