Damn hard this abandon, damn hard and tiring. Every day, and the days are sunny, I watch a New Zealand-All Black of a Cat. Chunky and self-assured, he surveys his territory from the top of the garage, the quintessential cat on a hot tin roof. I live the dream of having arrived in the Promised Land, while in anyone else’s reality, after 40 years of wandering in the desert, I haven’t budged from Square One. The inversion of the Bildungsroman: How I came undone. No “building” to de-construct. Not here, not now! The cat knows this, he has probably named and appropriated me.
Und die ganze Zeit: Hälfte des Lebens. Wo nehme ich, wenn es Winter wird, die magischen Mäntel her?
I want to leap like Cat, transcend myself, administer quicksilver injections, and, with sweeping brushstrokes, paint horrible beauty. If, by the end of December, my head is bald, I shall blame Heidegger - I’d be in good company: others claim he gave them ulcers. Touched by minds so vast, mine is about to detonate.
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your txt txt txt is amazing. moli and i want to get a cat in the squat. plus it'll help with the rats! did i send you anything about the rat king? (!!!) if not, look it up, if you dare. "detonate" is such a good word! much love.
ReplyDeleteWho on earth is called Moli?? That's the herbal paste they gave Odysseus so that he could withstand the sirens' singing. Debating whether to look up the link...
ReplyDeleteThanks for your praise! It means a lot to me!
that's brilliant, but i think it has more to do with molitovs.
ReplyDeleteAs in Molotov cocktail?
ReplyDeleteyeah, but in berlin, as with everything, they stick an i at the end. as in, kotti fur kottbusser tor, boxi for boxhagener platz or moli for molotov
ReplyDelete