Berlin (s)

It has been a year, the same time last year I was in Ulm, choosing between going back to France or coming to Berlin; now, I find myself still between choices here and there, between Akkusativ or Dativ, Théralène or Custors, or to what degree can I put up with others' vice. I thought that at least I had 50% of a shot, more then often I am wrong: for many things are simply out of my reach (ex. the court was on strike, then my judge left for vacation the day when the strike ended), thus as usual, there is nothing else left besides waiting, which is a terrible process for Sagittarius like me. The weather is ridiculously cold, the thought of learning German grammar reinforces me to stay in bed. Last winter fucking sucked in all senses, I wonder how this winter will turn out.

Took another day and a half from school. There are only two reasons to miss school, often both of them hit me at the same time. I hate it when my irrationality takes over because I was triggered by other's repulsiveness -- not a wise way to blow off my steam. The good news it that my neighbor left his bet in our flat for three days (the same rat, I named him "Katz"). So basically we are living in the City Hall (Rathaus), where die Katz hat Rathaus kaputt gemacht. (The rat is hyper active). The happiest little vegetarian fears not the strong flash of a camera. I want to ask my neighbor if I can keep him for another day or two, once I clean the table, I would want him to be out and running about a bit. It is a 32M², he should not be hard to find.

I feel like living in two Berlin(s). In my German class, everyone is foreign (duh), they are here to spend the summer vacation or fall break, or they already have a project in head while needing a German language certificate for one thing or another. (And me, waiting for the judge to come back from his vacation and sign the domed verdict) For them, Berlin is a perfect alternative city where we dance, party all night, find cheap funky food and rent, it is where "artists" live, where people deal drugs in public or alcoholics spend the whole night on S-Bahn.

If you are here for touristic reasons or a short stay, the chances are you will fall in love with the city and decide to move here. Well, I did.

Then after almost one year living in one of the "quartier populaire", I realize that my bubble was poked, broken. I see the other side of the city which pushes me to scream at the top of my lung: the high percentage of poverty (and being a poor bohemian is not in fashion anymore), anti-immigration policies from politicians (I was at a Podiumsprech two days ago, it was amazingly awful. They openly said that foreigners were the causes for the poverty and that they were not integrated properly while me, who doesn't look anything German, sat at the front row right under their nose. They did not address how they would fix the issue but keep emphasizing the percentage of immigration, oh well, politicians), and there are so many people who are intoxicated all the time, don't believe in getting proper help, and don't think what they are doing is repulsive, they blame the government, blame the neighbors, blame whatever they can put their fingers on to excuse their behavior. I have heard it all, I have seen it all, I understand but I don't agree--when someone does you wrong, you fight back, with a fucking sober mind!

There are times I wish to pick up whatever I can find and hit them across the face. How can someone abuse their selves and their encourage like this?! Some people are alive right now is simply because it is against the law to kill them.

And yet, whenever I go to class, I feel like living in another city, where people are happy, foreigners are happy, we spoke of why we came, what we loved about Berlin, what we found interesting and special here. It is not to deny that this city has its particular charm, including the contemporary history and cultural-concentrated quarters; at the same time, once I left school and return to the flat, that thrill is gone, replaced by something grey and solid -- different quarters different crowds.

Multi-dimensional

My love isn't unconditional
neither does my tolerance and respect.
Before me you are you:
naked lies,raw imperfections, sincerity and generosity;
before you I am what I want you to see:
filtered truth, polished edges,open heart and sober mind.
I saw you struggled to get out a taxi
then headed straight for the next tipple.
Being strong doesn't mean the high percentage of the muscle,
or bullying around others;
being strong means dare to say "no",
and keep your words despite exterior influences.
Promises remain syllables until they become tangible,
just like having a blue-print is sheerly a commencement,
and at times trying is not suffice.
Many substances were chosen before me
I am no stranger to such behavior
but it shouldn't be coming from you
for
my love is multi-dimensional
so does my tolerance and respect.

Murphy needs to change his law

It takes a Zippo to light a smoke. It was 10°C but it felt like minus for me. The second I finally sat in front of hot lunch with a friend, my phone started vibrating in my pocket: "We should meet up in half an hour to prepare for the events tonight." He said. I took my food to-go.

We were hoping the new professional camera would come in before the first press visit in the new office, then we would go to a Disco as journalists to cover the Oktober Fest. The first appointment was at 16:00, but as we finished lunch in the flat around 15:30, we decided that I had to stay to wait for the order --- we truly needed it for the festival. I sat in front PC, watched Dailyshow, SNL, then read all the interesting news, checked DHL tracking site every 10 minutes, which said :"The product has been delivered from Würzburg. It arrived at Berlin at 9:16AM. You should be able be receive it today." I should-- the worst statement ever because I was so anxious to put my hands on the professional camera for the first time, my current no-brain-required camera makes terrible night indoor photos, and even if I had it then, I would probably need a moment to familiarize the functions-- it is going to be a computer.

Around 16:45, I got a call and told that we would also need a dictaphone for the interviews. So I threw on my coat and headed for the super market. 45 seconds after I stepped out the door, I saw a DHL car passed me by; I had the urge to chase it for I might catch up with it at the red light, but it took a right turn at the next corner. Ok, maybe it was not for me, a lot of people order things online and have them through DHL delivered, right?

I got into the supermarket. It'd be a nightmare to do any shopping because it was Friday night, therefore each cashier had a two-mile line. But anyhow, we need what we need. They must have Dictaphone. Every store has them, including some small Turkish or Asian grocery stores. Eh... no, this two-floor super didn't have it.

On my way back to the flat I told him that we might just have to take notes. Then I looked into the mailbox-- no notice, on the door--either,then I checked the DHL site:"First delivery 16:48. Your order is in the post office in the follow 7 days."

Murphy needs to change his law.

I dialed his number and told him the new status, he called the customer service number and found out that the order had already arrived in the post office, I was told:"Print out the page and come to the Mall post office as soon as possible. They close in 15 minutes." I yelled at the printer to work fast, and ran through all the red light, but I made it. Then I realized that I forgot my Passport in the flat.

"Your order is to be picked up from Monday on." The girl behind the counter told us.
"But it is urgent, we really need it tonight, as a press agent."
"Ok, then. Let me check. Your IDs please."

And all I got was an expired French student card. "Next time remember to bring the Passport. I would let you have it this time." She was happy to start the weekend in 4 minutes.

Sooo, we eventually got the camera, now it was time to figure out what kind of SD cars it took. We open the package right away and went upstairs for an 8G SD card.

"Take a taxi and meet me at the Disco at 19, alright?"
"Well... I have to change...." The bouncer wold throw me into the canal if I tried to enter it in such attire. Once again, ran through the red lights and asked my clothes to come out of the closet all by themselves. With my shaking hands, I put the camera together. While buckling my suspenders, I thought about how to control the aperture; and tried to remember what Depth of field was as I put on my socks..

On our way to the Festival, I felt all I learnt about Shutter Speed, Depth of focus, proper strength of Flash was all gone. It was a good thing we got to stay in the Festival for a few hours so I had a chance to press all the buttoms...It is yet up to debate how my rookie shots came out, but we made it on time to the Festival and now we have to sort out about 300 photos from the event...

Mark your Calender

Took another day off school, although I shouldn't have. Haven't been very wise lately, haven't been very wise for a long time. One of these weeks where you check the calender twice, thrice a day, begging for it to be over. I am not yet accustomed to get up at 7:30 because my class starts at 9. However, considering I was out cold at an early hour last night, I should have been able to drag myself to school somehow.

The highest court in Berlin is on strike. And I thought going on a strike was France's national sport. But what are they striking about? They have reasonable working hours, relatively well paid, heated office, no paper worries, free coffee in the office and the building itself is in a park, on top of which, their cafeteria is on the first floor, and they can vote.

I want to start marking the days where neither the court nor INS strikes, and I will send the data to the mayor.

One of the side affects from being foreign is not getting bothered by leafletters. There are tons of them in Hermanplatz right at the exit of the metro, sticking fliers into your hands, or putting a pen under your nose to sign ... something. Whenever I step out of the metro and am about to pass them by, they usually turn around so they "wouldn't" see me --- you look foreign, so you can't read our language and you can't sign your name. The only strangers talk to me are those middle-aged women with borrowed or rented children and ask for small changes. Women, always women. As if we were culturally stamped to be more heart-touching and tear-bringing, in other words, pathetic looking. I've never seen men with some random kids and beg, but a lot of them are passing out under the sun on a wooden bench next to a trashcan with bottles lying around their feet.

Mom called and told me that she was going on a 3-day trip, in which she would take the train for 22 hours, then climb up a big mountain, share a hotel with 10 other people, then 22 hours back. I told her it sounded like Jews being shipped over for some one-day workshop during the WWII. Speaking of war, I find it "hypocritical" of me to care about the world peace in general and yet in the seek of finding peace with myself. But my new flatmate cheers me up: he is disco-singing cowboy, operated on batteries.

Cappuccino

You start having sparkling cappuccini
from one after one
and one after another;
I am accustomed to my apathy
from the presence of you
for you and no other.

I sense your buzzing mind
through your breath,
the standard lowered,
discipline loses its significance,
our convictions differ,
my disappointments are to be ordinary,
your words are to be weightless.
But I am intuitive,
a pen and a piece of paper are all I possess,
but you aren't aware of that
because of my insincere approval
-- the disguise of my soul,
wrapped in a borrowed costume.
My fast heartbeat spells out rage,
empty look pronounces hatred,
and yet I've grown to fit in my apathy
because your love
is transparent, tainted and foamy,
labeled "cappuccino".

Reality Show

As some of you might know that I am waiting for a verdict from the highest court in Berlin for ... well... ever. They finally sent me a response yesterday (it was actually sent to my attorney) and asked me to describe how we met, what language we use to communicate, the development of the relationship etc. I read the letter and I felt like being on a reality show or some talk show on MTV... so here is how it goes:

Cast

The host --- the judge
I --- me

The host wears pink cocktail dress, fingers twisting her blond hair, holding a microphone under my nose and asks: "So when was your first met?"
I keep staring at her high-heel sandals : can you actually walk in those things? "Eh... we met a while back..."
"Did you believe in love at the first sight?"
"No."
"Aw... that is so cute. "
"How was your first kiss?"
"Good."

The host shows a picture of us walking down the street to the camera / audience:"Isn't that romantic? What a cute photo!"

Ok, cute is a cute word, don't wear it out.

"So, what did you guys do on your first date?"
"We drank."
"That is fun."
Is it?
"What language do you use to communicate?"
"Depends."
"More than one? Aw..."
What is about you and "aw" thingy...

"We will be right back after the commercial. Please send SMS to 66666 and vote "How many language they use to communicate?"
A: one
B: more than one
And the 100th voter will receive a free box of "playtime" condom. Good luck and we will right back."

Commercials include: beer, vodka, playtime condom, car, beer, playtime condom, repeat.
(PS: I noted the commercial time in Germany: they last more than 5 minutes sometimes, more than 23 commercials, and 8 or 9 of them are about alcohol, 5 of them about cars.)

"Welcome back! First of all just let me remind you all to send SMS to 66666 and vote "How many language they use to communicate?"
A: one
B: more than one
And the 100th voter will receive a free box of "playtime" condom. Where were we...yes, languages... do you talk to each about everything?"
"Well... yeah. Can I go now?"
"Just one more question: how does it feel to be with someone?"
"Good."
"Aw..." (And the audience in the studio "aw" too, then the "applause" sign gets turned on.") "Our next guest is Molly, she owns a restaurant on the 7th and Jefferson, but more importantly, she also holds 'Speed Dating' in her restaurant..."

On the TV screen appears following message:

Send SMS to 66666 and vote "How many language they use to communicate?"
A: one
B: more than one
The 100th voter will receive a free box of "playtime" condom.

The End

The you in me

I hold you so tight
as if I were trying to carve you into my body.
But I am,
in my own way
slowly marking your existence in mine:
big strokes,
capital letters,
vivid punctuation.
You are breathing rhythmically
on my left chest;
I run my finger along your sharp shoulder blades,
watch your skin stretches as you breath,
connect moles and freckles on your back
--- so I can find a map to your mind.

You are the precipitation of my ire,
The night by the sea,
radiating undistinguished color and sound,
next to a deserted pebble beach.
I am the sediment of your mourning,
the stone in the wind,
carrying indescribable dirge and texture,
stand by the tide at your shore.

Intoxicated Faith

My first Reunification Celebration Day (Oct 3), or my second one. Auf jeden Fall, don't have much memories of the first one -- besides the fact I took a Taxi to my Internship -- what a luxury.

It was a long weekend, we headed for the Turkish Veggie Market on Friday but there was none. It'd be so much easier to go grocery shopping with someone who cooks: because I don't, thus I have neither idea what to buy nor the price range. Since the market was on holiday too, we decided to take a stroll in the quarter. Not many people on the street, despite the extremely rare good weather. We stopped in a bar for some coffee, it was nearly noon. Some random drunk invited himself at our table -- the only occupied one, and tried to start a senseless conversation. He was so drunk that he could not even open his beer (when you are hammered enough to unable to open your bottle, it means now the fucking time to stop). I felt unease, but I was not alone, and I sensed the ire rose in me, something triggered it, that pictured looked familiar, suddenly I had the urge to take the bottle and smashed it at his face. But I did nothing, we finished out coffee and left. Everyone's got their own way to celebrate a holiday.

We walked passed bus stops, in which party animals or homeless drunks murmured to themselves, beer bottles were everywhere on the street, shattered or not. The whole city was ethanol-saturated, was it illegal to be sober?

After living in a somewhat prestiged family, I understand the important role that alcohol plays in every culture. I lived through it, despite it, and decided to leave it. Sure, one can always find excuses for their intoxication: it is part of the culture, there is social pressure, peer pressure, and it has been existing for thousands of years... let me think what else has long existence and being misused most of the time --- religions!

Ethanol is something you think you cannot live without, it is a legal hard drug, it is over rated in every culture, it is what Jesus turned water into, it is "holy and grant".

Especially here, I find officialism is overwhelmingly pronounced, moreover, there are "certified alcoholic" who can receive more financial aids from the government (probably only in Germany) whilst making no effort to improve their lives. "Oh, I have problems in my family" "The world has done me wrong." "My business partner puts a gun at my head and I am impelled to be drunk."... (Some people are alive right now it is simply because it is illegal to kill them.) If this were the productive things to go, more than half of the Africa and Asia would be dead, including me.

And yet, many continue to allow such intoxicated faith to take over them, to practice a constant prayer to their God(s).

Unlike any other event

---How are thing?
---Dragging.
---Let me guess, you are watching TV online.
---Taking a walk.
---With Johnnie?
---Alone.
---Since when?
---A while back.
---The weather must be good then.
---I can see my breath.
---At least it is sunny.
---It is not.
---So why the walk?
---Can't sit anymore.
---Winter arrived early this year.
---Unlike any other event.
---Still traveling?
---On a break.
---Until?
---When I can do it again. How is by you?
---Immobile.
---It is not usual.
---As if I had a choice.
---You only think that is the only option.
---Tell me a better one?
---Can't do, not doing so hot myself.
---When are you leaving?
---As soon as I am ready.
---You had always been ready.
---I had.
---How is your German?
---Working, hammered.
---It is national holiday.
---Whatever that means -- someone needs a toned-up for their patriotism?
---Tell me about it.
---Can't do, have no personal experience.
---Tell me something happy.
---I am wearing the shirt says "Kaki-kore" and the symbol next to it. Your turn.
---My new tooth brush is transparent.
---We are set.
---Totally.

Entering Oktober

It was cold but sunny. I dragged myself out of bed at 7AM and took a shower with my eyes closed. I hadn't slept for two days for I was worrying about the appointment at INS, and many other little things. I thought about taking a few drops of Theralene. That thought remained a thought.

An old man sat on the metro steps with beer or Jägermeister shots, trying to have passengers buy "motz" -- a newspaper put together by homeless people. A few Straßekinder roamed about at Hermannplatz, dyed hair, tattooed arms and necks, full of piercings, saturated with drugs, asking for small changes. "You guys have the right to work and go to school, and I am working my ass off just to get a paper to have half of the rights."

There were only handful of people at INS -- the workers were on strike. "We cannot receive all the applicants," they said, "but if you have an appointment, you can wait in the waiting room."

So we waited, I did the crossword on the newspaper. Someone called out a name behind a closed door."Is it us?"

"I don't know. I think they were just talking to each other."

He taped on the door and asked. -- It was for us. Alright, their speakers were on strike too.

"You have to pay 80 euros because, well, it is the fee and you will have two months of Fiktionscheinigung (instead of 6 months) for you did not apply for your Visa from a right status. You needed to have a family-matter visa, but you did not."

Because your co-worker wouldn't give it to me!!!I could have gotten one! That is why I did not have the right Visa to get another Visa...

Fine, whatever, that is my first German paper and I am finally legal, for two months. I am going to frame that piece of green paper and put it on the wall! And I am going to put it under my pillow and sleep with it. We did not have the paper for our next appointment, all we can do right now is to wait. As usual.

There is a coffee shop near INS, but their espresso machine was broken. We sat down at a table outside, I used his coffee mug as hot-water bag -- I don't like filtered coffee.

"Now we need a letter from a lawyer, according to what she said, and how she said, I think Kammergericht and them had communicated, and there have been some complications. I am not taking the risk for a possible negative verdict. We have to act now, act before them." He picked up the phone and called the lawyer.

"We need an appointment with you as soon as possible. Today, please?... ok, as soon as possible, let's say tomorrow morning? 10am? 9am? or 8am in your flat we will bring you breakfast?"

Huh?

The appointment was set at 9:30am.

So, at 9:40am. Three of us sat at a table, signed the power of attorney, discussed the possible outcome and prepared for a potential trail. "It will be fine, mostly." they said. "The Kammergericht is taking time to exam the intention. Once we give enough evidences, there shouldn't be any reason to lose the case."

Is it now?

It started to rain when I left the office heading back to the flat. I did not take the metro. The forecast said it'd be sunny.

Back to the flat, zapped through channels, I was waiting for the post to come, then I can decide what to do.

The verdict didn't come, but my Press ID did. He was more excited than I was. Adorable, his will arrive in two days too. "Please write something, and I will proof read your paper. I still have to finish the rest of the application. I entered my domain to be economy, social and politics, and yours? Literature, art and culture?"

"Literature is a kind of art."

"Write something. I will try to get them published, under a different name of course."

Oh right, I am not allowed to work. But with my Press ID, I can probably get into some concerts for free. I phoned a few artzy friends I know, and now waiting for them to call me back, if they ever will.

Because of my irregular access to the Internet, I decided to buy some newspapers so I would have something more than German to read. I entered an international press shop, and the Turkish shop owner asked if he could help me.

"Yes, do you by chance have L'espresso?"

"No, we have only normal coffee."

"No, I mean the magazine."

"Never heard of it."

"Do you have La Republica then?"

"Oh yeah, the Japanese magazine?"

"Eh... no... an Italian newspaper."

(Quote from SR: "La Republica are the most Japanese words I have ever heard!")

"No. But they may arrive in ten minutes."

Sure they would.

I ended up walking across the quarter, asking another press shop owner to save a copy of Corriere della sera for me and I'd pick it up after lunch.

It is sunny, think I will go and take a nap before heading out.