Sometimes I see signs
of the start of a new season;
a lonesome migratory bird
that’s soon joined by its swarm,
a brief sun ray
that initiates the melting of the frost
that’s settled on all surfaces detectable,
or the freshly green head
of a wood-anemone
soon to pop open
to free its white flower

These moments
are normally passageways
to a different season’s beginning,
these are in usual cases
the events that crack
the surface of the ice open,
resulting in a spider web like pattern
But the temperature stays the same
and the sun stays in its same position,
with its transition to darkness
at 14:22 every day

By this time I’ve already been awake
for more than eight hours,
a full work day for some
It’s unimportant
how I spend these hours,
it really differs,
but all I can tell
is that the cold keeps me
preoccupied

I like being outside
when it’s still daylight
I don’t live
in a barn or anything,
nor do I have my own garden,
but I enjoy the public parks
that are within walking distance
from my flat
The little greens cheer me up
in so many ways
Whenever I feel alone
it does the trick
to just wander around,
pretty cluelessly
Just like a freshly brewed
cup of coffee
it removes that thin visor
from my vision,
that sometimes has made me feel
like an astronaut
on planet earth

After some loops around the park area
I seek out a bench
and close my eyes
to pretend it’s spring
Spring in the city
When I was a child
my mother lived
just by the edge of our country
After the edge there was water,
and on very clear days,
a silhouette of something
past the horizon
could be seen

We gave it cryptic names
Turned it into a kingdom
of dysfunctional
royal family members

In our shared fabrications
the royal family were fantastical,
crooked beings, they wore
rag-like clothes,
really ill-fitting cycling shorts
and moth-eaten t-shirts
Their make-up couldn’t stick
to their face
so an eye shadow would easily
become a tear

North of our house
were ice sheets
that formed their own
sovereignty
It’s like once a week
I would make up my mind
tell myself
I was ready
Go ahead and write all those messages
Caught my breath after each one
It was like a marathon
in mercifulness

Each time,
vague apologies,
Tell myself I was ready
Promises, promises, changes,
yes, I’m going through changes
Cross my fingers
This time
is gonna be different
Decision-time
it’s just gonna be different
this time, I cross my fingers
Non-habitually,
this time
is gonna be different

And then it happened
I passed through the mirror
Of my own image
And arrived in the backstage area

I used to like to know where you’d go,
when you’d go
But now I just think of you
as one of those trains,
arriving and departing,
whilst I’m standing here
waiting for my own journey

and then she whispered:
we all live in a memory now

all that is called world is ungraspable

you cannot retouch it

you need to erase it

to rebuild it

One of the strangest part-time jobs I ever had was surveilling an art installation in a blue-chip gallery in the western parts of the city. I would arrive there at 10.45 and get dressed in my full black suit. The gallerist was obsessed with lookalikes and I’d been hired because I looked just like someone else. She wouldn’t tell me who. It was ridiculous. She’d just unfavorably look over at me whenever I’d arrive. “Get dressed darling”, she’d say and I’d slide into the straitjacket of the day.

You can always tell when affirmative language has been hijacked. It’s like the vowels have gotten drunk in some outcast place of the city, and then crawled back to the bright light, asking for permission to never go stray again. That’s how you become robotic. You ask for permission to never fuck up again. In order to receive that permission you need to sacrifice. I’m not sure what was with this woman but she paid my bills and she enjoyed dressing me up like her little mannequin. She never asked any personal questions, took absolutely no interest in me as a person, and smiled mechanically whenever I answered a question of hers with more than a syllable. For three months I guarded an installation in her gallery. It wasn’t like I was her gallerina, or assistant of any kind, I was profoundly remote from any kind of intellectual property the gallery solicited. I was just there, in the white cube corner locale with its wide windows exposed to the side-street of the fanciest high-street there possibly was, at least in my bank of knowledge.

For a solid 8 hours I would walk around the art installation in the middle of the space. It was a mini-version of the gallery, with glass windows and with a plush-sculpture of another janitor overseeing the space. The plush-janitor had been squeezed into the same uniform I’d been made to wear but wore a bunny head and angel-wings. So much for the lookalike. In hindsight I find my own role in the piece ultimately perturbing. But at that time I just didn’t care. When you’re part of a crew - I mean whatever that means to you - like you know your place – wherever that is for you – all other places just come off as obsolete. Like being in love. Your sight gets smudged for better or worse.

People would enter and I would greet them, tell them some words about the exhibition, and ask them to step into the simulation once they felt ready. Within the cube they received some VR-helmets that kept them occupied for approximately 40 minutes. During that time I would just stand at some place in the gallery, often with my hands interlaced, lightly resting on my sacrum bone, looking at the people walking by on the outside.

<3 - 2023-12-29 13:36:28 - <3<333333

adolphus50@moneysquad.org - 2022-10-06 00:56:37 -

- 2022-10-06 00:56:37 -

adolphus50@moneysquad.org - 2022-10-06 00:56:35 -

joan14 - 2022-10-06 00:56:35 -

Developer - 2022-10-06 00:56:33 -

Developer - 2022-10-06 00:56:25 -

shannon_boyer@moneysquad.org - 2022-10-06 00:56:09 -

- 2022-10-06 00:56:08 -

shannon_boyer@moneysquad.org - 2022-10-06 00:56:06 -

joan14 - 2022-10-06 00:56:05 -

shannon_boyer@moneysquad.org - 2022-10-06 00:56:03 -

joan14 - 2022-10-06 00:55:57 -

118 Yundt Burg - 2022-10-06 00:51:14 -

- 2022-10-06 00:51:14 -

118 Yundt Burg - 2022-10-06 00:51:13 -

Suite 574 - 2022-10-06 00:51:12 -

118 Yundt Burg - 2022-10-06 00:51:11 -

Suite 574 - 2022-10-06 00:51:03 -

lonnie46 - 2022-10-06 00:50:45 -

- 2022-10-06 00:50:44 -

lonnie46 - 2022-10-06 00:50:43 -

nico.franecki@bdcimail.com - 2022-10-06 00:50:42 -

nico.franecki@bdcimail.com - 2022-10-06 00:50:40 -

lonnie46 - 2022-10-06 00:50:38 -

lonnie46 - 2022-10-06 00:50:21 -

- 2022-10-06 00:50:19 -

lonnie46 - 2022-10-06 00:50:17 -

baylee_harris@bdcimail.com - 2022-10-06 00:50:15 -

baylee_harris@bdcimail.com - 2022-10-06 00:50:13 -

lonnie46 - 2022-10-06 00:50:08 -

E - 2022-04-11 00:22:06 - so beautiful

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- 2022-04-11 00:20:38 -

*_* - 2022-03-31 12:01:05 - I love it!!