Proof of love

I was meaning to write it long ago, I'd like to put it down to words, as it is a great proof of love.

An unfortunate loss in our family brought us again together. The ones who always stick to each other, and the ones we cut contact with.
I lost contact with my cousin, my only male cousin, just because we communicate via different means and we are two worlds apart. But the mutual love is there. There was always a special connection between us, me, being the oldest of all, him being the only boy. I really appreciated a boy in the family, as it got me in connection with my male bit. I saw some family videos and there we were: The boy and the tomboy, always finding a way to challenge each other.

Until February 2010 I hadn't seen him for 7 years. It was sad to loose the contact and not know how to regain it in some way...

And there we were, and it felt great to hug him and tell him, that I was really hoping to see him and give him a hug, that I was sorry for the distance, that I always had him in my mind.

So he took me out for dinner. The best sushi place there is in town. And so I found out that he had moved into music and was doing concerts with his own songs.
And I dared saying that I write lyrics and that I was trying to learn to play guitar.
He said it was easy, he encouraged me, I could see he believed in me and that made me strong.

He took me home with the car, I was fine taking public transport, but he said he had to, because he had something for me.

We arrived at my place and with a smile in his face, he opened the trunk.

A guitar, a beautiful dark guitar, my eyes sparked: "take it, I have many, I don't need it"
"Next time you come over, we will play together"

I keep practicing. I sit, take my guitar and think of him. His little detail meant the world to me.
Blood is thick.

Granny, wherever you are. You would be so happy to know you brought people together when you left. Not only me. I saw some miracles happening the days you were gone. I saw a lot the love you left being spread.

We will miss you, but we took your love with us. Your energy is huge and lives in us.

You always believed in miracles. Well, you made miracles within us.

Sweet Miss Darling

Miss Darling, I still think of you. But it seems you have disappeared from the face of the planet.
Still have stages where I start a research and look for you.
I started the search again two months ago.
It didn't deliver. Your name is too common and I can't seem to find the people who were related to you, the time we met.
I talked about you then, when travelling. When memories reorganize and somehow your brain resuscitates moments that were in slumber.
Then I could see so clear our promenade. Our crazy days, your sweet words. The day we jumped on that cab, the evenings in the bathtub squattering those rich people's house, wearing their pearls, drinking their bubbly... You making me look like a woman, you taught me great things!

The communes in Berlin you put up so well with, along with your jet set life. You were unique.
The expectations we had from life. Well, the ones you had. I had no expectations but enjoying everything that was happening around me. You were aiming for something, I hope you found it.

I know you are somewhere not far, for sure, but I don't know how to find you. Or if it would make any sense now. Now that we are older... Would it mean the same to you again? Would you see me as the crazy savage messing around your controlled life?

Maybe that is the objective of memories. They are there to feed you at times, to wake them up when necessary, and, I should conclude, not to go back to them in the flesh, not to expect that a memory will live up to its expectations when you face a different time, when you are not aware that other events in life have changed the people in them. We are the same, but not the same. The moment is not there, only its memory.

... I still hope to see Miss Darling again. Maybe she finds me. I am easier to find.

and I dreamt

Dream in a dream.
More no news of old news. When I am standing in a place my mind travels.
When I travel, my mind settles down.
Countdown-ing. Feeling, lost in time, time back, irreal time.
There you were as an image I could rescue. Not even new technologies would get me close.
I am going over my deadline and I AM. I AM. I am so standing still I am going to push it though.
Not as it should be, maybe a new way. No time to recap. Consciousness is a process that invites to jump out.

best day of my life

I had the best day of my life on April 23. All emotions went fluently, the most natural thing. I knew that everyone felt the same way as I.
I felt similar to when I gather with language freaks and little needs to be said when we know we are going through the same mind processes.

I felt as inspired and chaotic as I should be, and not afraid, I felt home. I felt in my environment, I felt understood. I didn't have to adapt to anyone, anything, because I belonged.

Today I cried and laughed and I was so aware of things that were so natural for me and the people who surrounded me, I didn't need to give explanations. I felt in a way I didn't feel for very long.
Little needed to be done or said. I found my people, my space.

Today has been one of the happiest days in my life!

dreams -sexual- tendency

One day I accidentally had a very graphic and sexually explicit dream with a person I used to work with and to whom I didn't feel remotely attracted to. Why my subconscious chose him instead of, say, Amanda Palmer still remains a mystery to me.

I made the comment to my flatmate during breakfast. For the coming weeks, at work, I couldn't look at him in the eyes without picturing him naked and feeling somehow guilty and attracted at the same time, and that was creepy.
According to my flatmate's pseudo-Freudian interpretation of dreams if you have sex with someone in dreams it meant we would be friends forever. I didn't even know him or had anything close to friendship with him.

Again, my subconscious never chooses the friends I love most to have dreams with graphical sexual content with. I do dream sometimes of close friends and kiss, hug or get closer to them in an unusual affective way, but I don't think my subconscious would ever choose to have explicit sexual scenes with them, no matter how forever I am going to be friends with them.

I have had wet dreams with girls, strangers, but never with animals for instance (no matter how much I love them), close friends or family members or... my gay flatmate.
So, sexual tendency and sexual ethics still remain, even unconscious?
Interesting brain we have... What did that mean, then? Why him? Why was I condemned to see him in the office and blush?

I came up with some answers. Basically, I think that my subconscious needed to make up for bad sex with a particular someone I was physically attracted to and chose a random person I never looked at sexually but who I shouldn't feel intimidated with so I could use him as a scape valve.
An onyric way to turn things around from being attracted to someone, but not satisfied, to the exact opposite: being satisfied by someone, but not attracted to.
It has a touch of sad. I didn't think the latter could be possible. But you always learn...

... but I shouldn't worry

I've realized I want to become something like the neutral cultural observer. And feel multiculti somehow without really having a blood-shake, to look at ethnocentrism as something exotic and distant.

I'm seeing that putting my will to the test, the will wins. Results... But it is just a test not an indefinite state.
That some people need ludicrous devices in order to get through life.
That I have come to the conclusion that...

I fear I won't get past this screen
it seems forever
but they say I shouldn't worry

I am more aware than it looks like
but I shouldn't worry

They say I shouldn't worry
this stage is temporary
we'll laugh when it's over...

But this stage is now my life
and I reach for consciousness
and yes, if I should or should not... I don't want to worry.

that sensation

...is the title of a little something I wrote in 1990 and published in 1992 in the school's magazine.

I found the manuscript today, and, there ya go: traduttore-traditore played around to do an English version.
Words still came first in German and sometimes I had to do a Catalan-German-English transition.
English might be the easiest language for communicating, but I shall try a German version, German is still richer. The German (B Sprache) translators shall understand what I mean, oder?
It is interesting, because it is lyric and mine. I have never translated a text written by me. Or maybe I do it continuously everytime I use another language to communicate? Well, this is almost sociophilosophicolinguistics, so some other time.

That for the linguistic text analysis.

For the rest, the result.

THAT SENSATION

Like out of an impenetrable fortress
I opened my gates to let you in
you took over, with great delicacy
with a sly slowness, my intimacy.
Slowly you started a conquest
which was an invasion I couldn't perceive
it made my heart and soul pound
with a new exciting rhythm that surrounded me
of a halo of false happiness I was so contaminated with
and every bit of my skin breathed it.

That sensation!
That sensation that still now, sometimes
hypnotizes me and takes me to that plenitude
that sounded hollow on our backs
All I had so close, and still see so far
A fire that seemed impossible to fight

A spark that set me in flames
How come so many tears couldn't extinct it
A love that didn't want to be discovered
that burned us: each and other.

So strong perhaps that couldn't be repressed.
So different and absurd at the same time
that got lost in its absurdity
in the fragmented abstraction of a complex unease.