ich gebe dir ungleiche kniescheiben.
da wo du hinfasst sind nachtbeine.
nacht. beine. nacht. ich habe
deinen arm ohne ein wort um meinen arm
gemacht. ohne die art, die dir unaehnlich sieht.
ich habe meine beine zu dir hingekniet.
ich habe meinen arm um deine schulter
leis gelegt. ich bin den gang, den du
auch gingst, entlanggeschwebt.
ich war dabei. ich habe deine art
gekannt. ich habe deine art umarmt.
und nichts.
und nichts ist.
niemand war dabei.

(picture taken from postsecret.)

unfortunately, i'm not going to make this year's open mike. i have started a couple of stories, but at this point lack the discipline and time to finish them properly. on a different note, the sound of the texts the jury is looking for is somewhat stylized and i don't feel like serving that right now. but who knows, i might participate next year?

poesiefestival: lesung pankow

in these pictures: rocky bohocky, lenny rotten, johannes jansen, hendrik jackson, ulrike draesner.

ingeborg bachmann preis 2008, klagenfurt, austria

in these pictures are in no particular order... zita bereuter, jens, kathrin passig, pedro lenz, sudabeh mohafez, patrick findeis, heike geißler, sascha lobo, a beetle and myself.

anthony kiedis on writer's block

quite obviously, i stole the following sentence from his 'autobiography' scar tissue (autobiography in inverted commas, because larry sloman helped), page 319:

I had to educate him that there was no such thing as writer's block, that writers write when they write, and when they don't, they don't.

no man's land translation contest

i didn't win that one with my translation (see below), but if you'd like to have a look at ron winkler's german original, the winning translation and other entries, (1) go to no man's land, (2) click on 'Events' to the left, (3) then click on 'no man's land poetry translation contest' to the right. a tad bit complicated, but interesting enough to put up with the hassle, i think.

>and later parabola apples on breath<

low there the garden. that specialised

wood. above it sun's infinite π.

and beauty as kind of uncertainty.

as in clouds. insofar clouds.

inbetween hang the infernal fruit. hangs the

infernal fruit.

were there no grizzly hares?

none there, no? at that fence?

and junglestyle cubes

as birds shrieked to the ground?

someone pushed into this far, so far

departed mood the harrumph button

of his or her Heckler & Koch. wasn't me,

was another intensity group's

one.

generation einfallslos?

In der ersten Reihe des Vortragssaales des Musil Museums in Klagenfurt sitzen neun Stipendiaten, erstmals handselektiert von den Tutorinnen und Tutoren des Literaturkurses, den sie besuchten. Sie sitzen da und tragen, bis auf zwei Ausnahmen, Nichtfarben und bescheidene Erdtöne: schwarz, grau, beige, weiß. Sie sind in meinem Alter, aber keiner von ihnen kommt mir bekannt vor. Umso mehr dafür die Projekte, an denen sie mitarbeiten: Sprachgebunden, Bella Triste, Poetenladen, Lauter Niemand und so weiter. Namen und Autorengruppen, die andere Nachwuchstalente geradezu neidisch machen. Entsprechend blasiert die Attitüde mancher: Eine der Autorinnen hält es beispielsweise nicht für nötig, sich zu bedanken, als ich ihr einen Getränkedeckel aufhebe, der in meine Richtung rollt. Vielleicht ist sie aufgeregt. Gut ist, dass sich der Saal bis auf den letzten Platz füllt, das gibt Hoffnung.


Das Publikum ist gemischt, es ist schwer zu sagen, wer nur interessiert ist, und wer im Betrieb was zu sagen hat. Hannes Becker fängt an. Er hat wie viele hier neure deutsche Literatur studiert. Als erster zu lesen, an diesem Nachmittag, das ist hart, denke ich. Er sagt auch nicht viel, nur einmal Danke am Anfang und noch einmal Danke am Ende. Sein Text ist sprachlich solide, wie alle Texte, die an diesem Nachmittag gelesen werden. Inhaltlich gehört sein Text dank des Freunde-als-Ersatzfamilien-Themas zu den originelleren Arbeiten, obwohl er wie sieben seiner Kollegen in der ersten Person Singular schreibt. Neben dem Trend zur sexuellen Explizität (auch Beckers Text kommt sehr zu meiner Enttäuschung nicht ohne die Wörter Schwanz und Arsch aus) scheint es jenen zur Selbstreflexion zu geben, bei dem ich ja auch mitmache – von dem ich mich an dieser Stelle allerdings gerne verabschieden würde. Es scheint, wir machen uns das Schreiben doch ein wenig einfach. Selbst Daniela Dröscher, die mit ihrem Text eine der besten Arbeiten des Tages vorträgt, hat – das behaupte ich hier einfach einmal – fast nichts an ihrer Geschichte erfunden. Das an sich ist zwar nicht weiter schlimm, doch wenn sich in jedem textlichen Versuch unserer Generation stets dieselben Bilder wiederholen (Himmel, Straße/ Asphalt, Gras, Hügel, Sommer) und es sich bei jedem zweiten Prosastück um einen „Reisebericht" handelt, dann sind die Ähnlichkeiten schon auffällig. Haben wir denn keine anderen Themen? Oder, anders gefragt, ist es die Nachfrage der Leserschaft nach immer privateren Eindrücken, die uns mit Phantasielosigkeit davonkommen lässt? Denn, das ist ganz offensichtlich, bestünde kein Interesse an dieser Art der Literatur, hätten wir jüngeren Autoren mit unseren beinahe generischen Abhandlungen weitaus weniger Erfolg. Sprachgefühl und sichere Vortragsweise alleine machen schließlich keinen interessanten Text. Ist all die Präsensprosa teilweise konfusen Inhalts wirklich das, was die älteren Hasen von uns jungen Karnickeln hören wollen? Sehr gut formulierten Seelenstriptease, wie exemplarisch bei Lisa-Maria Seydlitz? Dann schon lieber erzählerisch-experimentelle Ausrutscher wie bei Elisa Ring, die mit ihren rabenschwarzen baren Füßen zwar in der Sinnlosigkeit ihrer Prosa versumpft, aber wenigstens eine eigene Stimme entwickeln konnte. Die Schwierigkeit besteht meines Erachtens darin, die Authentizität des Erlebten nur dann mit Vorstellungskraft zu bereichern, wenn sie zuletzt auf eine neue, künstliche Weise allgemein gültig werden kann. Ihr, liebes, erfahrenes Publikum, müsst uns dabei helfen, das eine vom anderen unterscheiden zu lernen.

Teilnehmer des Literaturkurses: Hannes Becker, Daniela Dröscher, Constantin Göttfert, Anja Kampmann, Elisa Ring, Lisa-Maria Seydlitz, Robin Thiesmeyer, Andreas Martin Widmann, Silvia Wolkan.

[more comments by me on the ingeborg bachmann preis over @ FM4.]

ingeborg bachmann preis 2008

i'll be flying to klagenfurt tomorrow for the ingeborg bachmann preis 2008. there, i'll be reading noncompetitively, taking a couple of pictures and writing a take on things for FM4, which will be available through their website by the end of the week.

in my inbox today: alistair noon, seán rafferty

"Hi

This week there's an online symposium at Intercapillary Space on the work of Seán Rafferty, a fairly well-forgotten but I think great poet who was praised and supported by people such as Ted Hughes and Sorley Maclean. Hope you can pop by... Details below.

http://intercapillaryspace.blogspot.com/

Cheers
Alistair"

poesiefestival 5 - 13 july 2008

good you've asked, p! there's the poesiefestival taking place, with some of my friends reading (here, i'd especially recommend either the 14.00 - 17.00 session @ treptow-koepenick and/ or the 16.00 - 18.00 pankow one). just like every year, the literaturwerkstatt has organized tons of interesting readings, interview sessions and concerts... it'll definitely be worth a look!

...actually, now that i see this, i think maybe i should go, too...

berliner buecherfest, 21 - 22 june

here's the programme of this year's berliner buecherfest.


klaus kordon is reading, amongst others, so i guess it's worth a visit.

i read his Ein Trümmersommer when i was a kid and really liked it at the time. it still had its typical orange Beltz & Gelberg hardcover back then.

shame i won't be in town.

reflection

and poetry went
and sat down
and decided that
love wasn't for her.

you know

i dreamt of throwing things into that river.

(picture taken from pictures of walls.)

next reading in klagenfurt, 27 june 2008

details here.

contact

flatness caves in to silence.
dreams dance in spacey
pirouettes of lack.

you: in the wilderness of incoming.
in fact, you're in the wildest
wilderness of everything.

dreams dance into fat sunsets.
stills of sand, the trenches and
improbabilities.

bachmannpreis new website online, john irving reading

this week there were two interesting literary events on my list.

the first one was on wednesday:
the launch of the brand new, multilingual homepage of the ingeborg bachmann preis.

the second one was a reading by john irving tonight (i'm sure the kcl people will put a review up soon. until then, this link here will lead you to another, kind of similar reading of his). it was more of a lecture on his way of working than anything else, which was fantastic. for example he admitted to editing his texts up to twenty times, until he finds 'that one wrong word'. what a relief to hear that from a gifted person like him!! somehow i always seem to think that literary perfection is supposed to happen right when the words appear on the page. especially when i do not write much over an extended period of time i tend to forget that working extremely hard for a good text is perfectly normal. other cool john irving quotes from tonight include:

i write to a sound.

i write from the last sentence to the first chapter.

[on the importance of a well-crafted plot] how can you know where i am going if i don't?

the first sentence is always easier than the last.

all writers are outsiders. or should be.

it's a good feeling to be a popular novelist, but i value my enemies, too. more than they could ever imagine, in fact.

i got into wrestling because i was angry and nobody told me things. i was resentful.

making films to me feels like skipping school.

(picture taken from picture of walls)

guadeloupe

und bleibst stumm sitzen auf dem teppich
aus zurechtgelegten sätzen, faselig
die krummen zehen in das hingeseufz vergraben,
denkst, du kannst, du denkst, du kannst
das lächeln ungesehen machen, das im witz,
auf dem du sitzt, verharrt.

next reading in klagenfurt

on friday, 27 june 2008, together with alain claude sulzer, who is part of this year's ingeborg bachmann prize jury. we'll be reading during the Tage der deutschsprachigen Literatur.

all this is a huge honor for me little poet.

for fun

find more of this girl here, if you wanna.

i apologize for having been a lazy blogger lately, i am in the middle of exams. my last one is on 22 may, so you can expect deeper and more frequent posting again after that.

five years of luftschacht - go and celebrate in vienna!

for fun

today i partook in no man's land's ongoing translation contest - they're looking for the german 'superübersetzer'. and the task, indeed, was a hard one (see link).

[i added a picture of me hugging an angel at the UN headquarters in geneva just to make this entry a little more colourful.]

plumage

here's a link to a german poem called leichtes gefieder by nora bossong. i think i might translate it once i'll have the time.

a review of our reading in innsbruck

you can find a german review of our reading in innsbruck over at creek people.

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lauter niemand will hold a lesung in berlin next tuesday. go check it out, they are good!

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try miranda july, she seems pretty cool. learning to love you more is one of her projects.

priorities

with exams coming up in may and four full days of work per week, i should be using all free time to study, but the longer i'm not writing much, the more ideas for short stories spring to mind. there's also this novel project, that i'm thinking of undertaking once finished here... its protagonist keeps wandering around in my head, distracting me. write me a room, it keeps whispering, and a friend. i'm tempted, so tempted...

it will have to wait for a while, though, i guess.

(picture taken from postsecret.)

here's the link

to the event the post below was about. they also give a nice summary of what i have left out in my account of things.

autobiografiction

some guy (max) from some university (harvard, cambridge, king's) gave a speech on autobiografiction the other day. these are the notes i took:

autobiography = mode of READING?

fictional form + autobiographical content ≠ autobiographical form + fictional content [...well, obviously not!]

pseudonymous autobiography -> heteronym? -> fiction vs. pseudonym -> disguise

truth value in inner/ spiritual meaning of autobiografiction
inner life splits off from the outer
creative uncertainty about life writing?

'the more perfect the artist the more completely separate in him will be the man who suffers and the mind which creates.' T.S. Eliot, Tradition and the Individual Talent, 1951, Faber & Faber

self-fashioning/ re-invention of own story = post-modern invention? NO!

autobiografiction based on spiritual experience? elasticity in definition of spiritual!

gegen die sinnlosigkeit der romantik

verschwören
mit dir mich
das wollt ich
schon immer.

[to plot against the pointlessness of romance/ with you/ is what i have been/ wanting to do.]

through/ i do

most certainly
it’s all about the weak lungs

the wild veil swings
the will is wanting to

the sparkling night ring
looks as if it fits my finger

my phone = crap, josé gonzález = superb!

this year's open mike

if i can come up with something really good until 15 july 2008, i'll try my luck again at this year's open mike.

my fm4 jury portrait

is here. oh, and the guy in homo faber is called walter faber. right. hahahaha.

out of the office

after a fun weekend in innsbruck, i'm packing my bags for geneva and frankfurt at the moment. i won't be online again until next tuesday, so please excuse this week's postlessness.

the reading at the bierstindl prosafestival with raphael urweider, ann cotten and micha ebeling went very well. (as did the party afterwards...) everybody was really nice, and i kind of regret not having travelled to innsbruck earlier this week. then again, i was sick and could really use the downtime at home.

DIE ZEIT lists a couple of (ex-)indexed books and gives the reasons why they were forbidden in germany. interesting!

after having a third look at my Literaturpreis Prenzlauer Berg 2008 entry Neun Strophen: Heller, i realized that two edits defnitely aren't enough. while i didn't spot any major flaws, there are a couple of repetitions and the odd filler word i should have left out. hopefully nothing, though, that will keep the jury from inviting me to read in the first round... three cheers for anonymous selection processes!

happy birthday WOAW! - a speech

a year ago to the day, i posted my first entry on WORDS ON A WATCH. it was my third day as what i called 'a full-time writer'. i liked to call me that, and had to, too, as i had just fled from an employment contract i had only signed three weeks earlier. i was stranded in munich, with barely any friends in town, yet with six months of time at my hands. after these six months, i thought, i would know whether i had what it takes to succeed as a poet and author. by the time i'd be moving to london, i thought, i would hold in my hands the first finished draft of a novel. how to achieve these goals, however, was a mystery to me, and even when i started writing my entry for FM4's Wortlaut 2007, i didn't think one minute i could stand a chance to win. after all, i had confused the 'character' and 'word' counts and was working straight towards a deadline that was actually only set for six weeks after when i thought. perhaps you can imagine how bizarre it seems to me that now, as i am writing this, i'm one of five member's of this year's Wortlaut final jury, together with people like kathrin passig and thomas meinecke.

in munich, when i couldn't sleep at night, i translated poetry, and all i ever thought about during the days were names for characters and plots and subplots. now, here in london, when i can't sleep at night i just lie there and wonder whether i should take the risk again; the risk (and luxury) of moving to some remote place like triberg in the middle of the black forest, that has always had this wicked appeal to me. on a more realistic note, berlin, too, is still very enticing. and not only for its literary scene and all my friends at lauter niemand, that is.

in any case, making myself heard throughout the last year, even if on a comparatively small scale, and receiving feedback on my work, has changed me as a person. i have become aware of the fact that it's not only other people's lives that are different from mine, but that my own life can get very different from what i have known it to be, ever so nice, incomprehensible.

WOAW through the months has served as a pillar, a platform, but also as a chair circle, really, with you guys listening and talking back to me whenever you felt the need. i'd like things to remain just like that, wild and free, if you want, and hope this is ok with you.

from the inky depths of my pen-shaped heart, i thank you for watching the words here with me.

may i remind you of my upcoming reading in innsbruck

saturday,
29 march 2008.

with ann cotten, raphael urweider and micha ebeling.

more info here.

surprisingly enough, i managed to submit an entry for this year's Literaturpreis Prenzlauer Berg. it was all very last minute, but i'm happy with what i submitted. it's a six page story called Neun Strophen: Heller and as yet only exists in german. i might translate it into english at a point, but not just yet, as i still have plenty of work to do for uni. also, i have to get my things all packed up and ready for my trip home next week. how exciting!

go, guys!

erstmals in berlin und sonstwo

torstraße 60

dank kook read:

////////////////////////////////////////////////////

DIE ROTTEN KINCK SCHOW

////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Qualle: Masse oder Eremit?

/// Tierbaby-Bingo

/// Kreisverhör: wie ihr werdet, was wir sind

/// Wetter und Geld

Mit Ann Cotten, Monika Rinck und Sabine Scho

Am 1. April um 21:00 Uhr im Kaffee Burger

the odd beginning of a poem just gets lost.

translation, as promised

Good and ready to barter
All in the head against each
Against every next morning
Grows against regions
There to move into
To move those velvet curtains to
The play of light

Next exchange next
Head against nearer and
Louder newcomer districts
Pastures and blossoms and vines
Ducklakes
As bonuses come with the traffic
The stone streets

Toothwhite against
Rural dentition against the eternal
When-question
Time in one's grip till
it's morning against.

FM4 Wortlaut 2008: Call for submissions!

gut und zum tausch bereit
alles im kopf gegen jeden
gegen jeden nächsten morgen
wachsen gegengegenden
dort einziehn
samtne vorhänge zum lichtspiel
der morgen bewegen

nächster tausch nächster
kopf gegen all jene näheren
lauteren zuziehergegenden
weiden und blühen und rebstöcke
seen
als dreingabe zum tausch
der steinstrassen

zahnweisse gegen das
landgebiss gegen die
wannfrage
zeit in der hand haben bis
gegen morgen.



i'll translate it some other time.

cow pat explosion

i'm in!

in the course of 2008, some of my poems will be featured in zakk's literary automats in düsseldorf. will let you know more once i know in which month.

thanks go out to pauline for encouraging me to apply.

cock-a-hoop

ann cotten and i will be reading together at the bierstindl in innsbruck on 29 march 2008. hearing about that just now has totally made my day. that is f***ing fantastic! thanks, organizers!

ANN in DIE ZEIT

i am SO proud of you!

wenn du fährst

wenn du fährst:
ausdemfensterblick
lenker, geschickt der
oberschenkel am
gangschalthebel deine hand
ist warm auf meiner seite
vor uns land und
windschutzscheibe
wenn du fährst:
stillsitzenbleiben
im gurt, wach lehnt
mein nacken im haar
dreht der player das lied
noch einmal drückt mein knie
in das hartplastikfach summt
im stadtlicht der motor
die abendandacht.


[very rudimentary:

when you drive:/ outofthewindowlook/ handlebar, nifty the/ thigh to the/ shifter your hand/ is warm on my side/ land ahead and/ front shield/ when you drive:/ remainseated/ and buckled up neck leans/ into the hair/ spins the player the song/ once again presses my knee/ against the glove compartment hums/ in city lights the motor/ evensong.]

and what's even better

i am actually IN this video! 2.11/ 2.12 - the one with the hooped beanie. my friends are to the left, pointing in different directions.

round 1: apologies 2008

clearly, the new year's resolution about posting more regularly again didn't help. i'm sorry.

i can say for myself, however, that i do lots of fun stuff here in london, e.g. partaking in a mass freeze at trafalgar square. cool, ay? i'll post a video of that for you to see as soon as one's available on youtube.

like i cared about valentine's day

i think i might just have missed you
thinking of me it is sixteen past three and
you know what they say about fourdigit numbers
with all digits identical or repetitive or whatever
it's this hiccup that jumps up my throat
when you're about to smile it's me laughing at nothing
sometimes or just at a song i know you would like
it's how you look at me just right you see i think
there's never been a reason good enough so far you know
there's never been a reason good enough so close.

gute wahl

selber wasserhahn tropft vor sich hin seit
halbkalt über diese häuser kam
der siebte heimatlose sinn
er nahm den fluss er nahm die
spiegelfenster hin hat alle dinge hier
bejaht den kassenautomat die enge
immer gleiche immer gleiche ubahnfahrt
hübscht jeden tag an dem das leben
an daheim erinnert auf neu ist der
stille zulauf jener dinge


[good choice

same tap that has been dripping since
the half cold came upon these houses
since the seventh homeless sense
took river took all things
the mirrored windows in
approved that pay machine the narrow
ever same the narrow ever same ride on the subway
pimps each day that makes me think
of home new is the
silent inflow yonder things]

and here, for fun, the google translator's translation:

Good choice

Water tap drips himself to himself, since
Halfcold about these houses came
The seventh homeless sense
He noted the influence he took the
Mirrorwindows out here has all the stuff
N affirmed the close
Always equal always equal subway train ride
Hübscht every day where the living
At home to newly recalls the
Income silence of those things

better late than never: mischa strümpel's evening machine

i've been working on this translation for a while, and could finally finish it early this morning. mischa had offered his help earlier on in the process, but since i'm a total nerd at heart, i wanted to get this translation done all by myself. below you will find his original, as per usual.

Evening Machine

saline night, the eyes across one
more uncolourful enthusiasm, the enthusiasm

for the uncolourful. Something is on- something else is
offended, turns mute, viz.

burns, clean, surplusless. Of that raise a monument.

And above the right eye everything, and everything
once more pushed forth, the unclasped force

the blonde tongue, massive herein.
Aperture on aperture on forehead

will you break through cheek skin? blink dim
the phrases, two times no idea.



Abendmaschine

salzige Nacht, die Augen gehen über
eine unbunte Begeisterung, die Begeisterung

fürs Unbunte. Etwas ist aus-, etwas anderes
eingeschnappt, setzt an zu schweigen, d. h.

brennt, sauber, überflusslos. Davon ein Denkmal.

Und über dem rechten Auge alles, und alles
dann herausgetrieben, die losgelassene Kraft

die blonde Zunge, schwer hinein.
Blende auf Blende an der Stirn

dringst durch die Wangen du? blinkst ab
zu Sätzen, keine Ahnung, und die zweimal.

next reading: innsbruck/ austria, 29 march 2008

(picture taken from postsecret.)

resistance at work

here's an anti-globalization documentary called the fourth world war.
it contains some pretty rough material and may not be suited for everybody to watch.
if you still want to go ahead, i hope you guys are over sixteen and speak some spanish.

...remember, though, that in whatever direction you're moving, VIOLENCE IS NOT THE WAY TO GO!

i'm linking to this just because i want to remind all of us that in some areas of the world, life is far less comfortable than where we live.

ich habe zu meinem eigenen hügel
kakteen gestaut sand seen
verdammte sandseen vor wand
der horizont macht blau
ein halber untergang
und wo du flogst da bin ich
ungenau i am a hill i think
ein hügel bist du auch.

[i'm afraid this doesn't really work in english.... but anyways, here you all go:

i have for my own hill/ dammed cacti sand lakes/ damned sand lakes pre tense/ the horizon skips blue/ half a sun down/ where you flew/ i'm improper a hill think/ a hill you are, too.]

just for shits and giggles, here's the translation google translate gives you when you enter the german original version above:

i had my own hill
sand cacti dammed lakes
damned sandseen front wall
the horizon is blue
among a half
and where you because i am flew
i am a vague hill i think
are you a hill too.

here you can see very well how difficult it is to get a point across. especially parts like der horizont macht blau, which literally means 'the horizon makes blue', but would actually have to be translated 'the horizon skips work'. i went for the mixed-up version and took 'the horizon skips blue' which does kind of make sense in the context of a sunset. ... i'm just thinking that my own translation probably won't make any more sense to you than the generated one ... oh well.

i am totally aware of the fact that i owe you a post

i have started writing a piece for the MDR competition, but it's not coming along very well. i've also done a little thinking about whether i should maybe stay here in london instead of moving back to berlin this summer. it's tricky.

for all you german speaking people

'my' berlin ex-neighbour jens friebe and his brother interviewed by DIE ZEIT.

dances in front of her own works at weddings (if you just happen to have one) - shirana shahbazi

writing about art isn't among the easiest things to do. writing about people, it seems, is much easier. at least when they're drinking german beer and wearing white socks in ocher low shoes. just like it is with red orchids placed in front of a red background, maybe this is one of those moments when an artist goes 'a little bit too far'.

this kind of stuff, i know, is what you want to hear. you want to hear about artists that are fun to look at, because - and that's with all honesty here - many of them don't have much to say. and when i set out to the curve tonight, pushing through london commute, i feared that could have been a mistake. so much the happier i was, when shirana shahbazi opened the night by displaying some of her older work, 'that you haven't seen yet', she assumes. but we have: photography inspired by journalism, photographs of painted photographies, photography knotted into rugs, and a collection of reportage-ish photography she produced for a major swiss insurance company - bewildered by its remote culture.

here, i think, is where the common commentator would build a bridge to her iranian family background/ life/ personality traits, perhaps even.

i, instead, would like to focus on 'remote'. remote, to me, describes her art and style just fine; 'remote' in a delicate, friendly way. 'it's better to have a clear intention about what you are going to do beforehand than having to clarify your artistry verbally after.' so, i ask shirana, does it matter at all whether people understand what you are doing? the attendant crowd catches their breath. shirana, too, seems caught off guard: 'would it sound very bad if i said no to this?' not at all, i find. 'for me it's satisfying when they think my work is beautiful, enjoyable.' and i am taking this earlier statement of hers out of context: 'whether my art gets sold or not, that's none of my business.' i'm not sure whether, at this point, she notices the guy leaning against her 18 meters long wall painting. 'you get a lot more relaxed once you've realized how hopeless it is to talk back [at the industry for pigeon-hole-ing her work as being young, iranian, female, german, swiss, identity-seeking or whatever].' 'i depend on clear thoughts as a starting point for my work, she explains, i need to know: what am i going to do tomorrow?'

'to depict a place far away', she said, was all she intended to do when she flew to iran to work on her degree show. to disclose what it's like if you know such a place very well. in iran, she goes on to explain, people were having a hard time seeing novelty in her photography: 'this is just iranian', she says they would say, 'what makes it so special?' to me, for sure, its beauty.

in case you haven't seen the exhibition at the barbican yet: it's on until 20 january 2008, so only three more days to go. admission is free.

(picture taken from postsecret.)

when i can't write over a longer period of time

i get nervous. my ideas seem callow, i can't find white paper. very uncomfortable.

Ach, ich fühl' es

Ach, ich fühl' es! Keine Tugend
Ist so recht nach meinem Sinn;
Stets befind' ich mich am wohlsten,
Wenn ich damit fertig bin.
Dahingegen so ein Laster,
Ja, das macht mir viel Pläsier;
Und ich hab' die hübschen Sachen
Lieber vor als hinter mir.


Wilhelm Busch (1832-1908)

hardcore cuteness

DIE ZEIT on youth criminality in an alienated german society. very interesting.

next reading in austria

will take place in innsbruck on one of the days between 27 march and 30 march 2008.
more detailed information later, this is just so you know.

packing

just realized i brought my notebook on holiday with me and haven't written a word into it during the past three weeks. that's a bit disappointing. i did write a couple of poems in draft emails, but these are so bad that i don't dare putting them on display here.

there's also the mdr literary price. i'd like to partake and hope i'll come up with something in time - i've become a little unoriented lately when it comes to my writing, i'm afraid.

(picture taken from postsecret.)

oh and

ken has had this poem up on his blog forever
(a month rather), and the more often i read it the better i like it. his kitschy stuff is really cute sometimes.

here's my translation of one of his earlier poems.

poetic deed

i partook here with the poem-version of my story Bärenklau - one that hasn't been published yet, but liked very much by the people who have heard or read it. i tried writing something separate, but wasn't quite happy with any of it. Bärenklau, though, has always been close to my heart; this becomes evident in the english translation i made of it, too. i'm really sorry i can't post it here just yet, as - as usual - the competition entry mustn't be published. instead, as a consolation gift, i'll show you a translation of one of those poems i wrote and discarded.

it's called up above (or should i call it up abaph?):

i’m your affliction
seraph

can you
lathe me

your nine to five
wings aph

they lathe themselves
low where i am.

get tough on arms trade - i have signed up!

"Amnesty, IANSA and Oxfam have just launched a global campaign aiming to stop gun running and control the arms trade - and they need your support now. Simply go to:
http://www.controlarms.org/million_faces/en/index.php/register?s=2751882

I've already signed up and you can see my Face in the Million Faces petition at:
http://www.controlarms.org/million_faces/index.php/photo/id/2751882

Armed violence wrecks lives by fuelling conflict, poverty, and human rights abuses. The campaign is calling for an international Arms Trade Treaty which will make it harder for arms to get into the wrong hands.

Your support will help us to show that people - like you - around the world are outraged by arms trade abuses, and demand tougher arms controls. Act now at:
http://www.controlarms.org/million_faces/en/index.php/register?s=2751882"

happy 2008

when i drove back from germany to switzerland this afternoon, the passing landscape made me think of one of his poems alistair noon read in london a couple of weeks ago. in a passage it described the changing view during a journey across the atlantic, and for a while went SEA. SEA. SEA. and so on. (unfortunately, i couldn't find it online - will have to ask him where it can be found.) well, anyways, this listing style made me think of the following poem. only a first draft, but since i promised to post stuff more often again....


die fahrten
ziehen sich immer
...
strecke kurve wald feld
huegellandschaft dorf
fabrik stadt stadt stadt stadt
ein autobahnkreuz strecke dann
strecke kurve wald feld bald
huegellandschaft dorf dann
[erinnern]
...
zög ich aus dir
das prophetische
sag mir was bliebe
dem weg.

things to make and do

amnesty international has launched a greetings card campaign. it's about sending a card with a friendly greeting or message of solidarity to someone who is in danger or unjustly imprisoned. These are prisoners of conscience, people under sentence of death, human rights defenders under threat because of their work, and others at risk. if you have five spare minutes and a stamp, please take part. (of course, you'd need a greeting card, too.)

should you lack all of the above, try this. many famous people like dido, skin, the beatsteaks, teitur, tomte, slash and green day and so forth have given their faces, so you'll be in good company.

the other day i was given one of those magnetic words sets (complete with a magnetic board) that lets you mix and match poems. here's the first bit that came of it:

I

seufz

die sache ist modern
im warmen wasser
virtuell und populär
vielleicht als abenteuer
TV schicksal ein
extrem gedicht


II

biernatur... verzeih


III

fahr lieber
lau ist der morgen
verrückt fast in
hochform so gut
und absurd
ist das ende.

(picture taken from pictures of walls.)

this is an email i got this morning. all the links mentioned you will find here at codepink alert. however, we should not forget that mrs bhutto, at a point, was accused of corruption, too...

Our hearts and thoughts are with the Pakistani people as they mourn the death of Benazir Bhutto. We extend our deep sorrow to her family and the millions of supporters who for decades have seen the Bhutto family as a source of inspiration. We also extend our condolences to the families of the other Pakistanis who were killed in this heinous crime.

We at CODEPINK were in touch with the former Prime Minister when we were writing our book Stop the Next War Now. In fact, Bhutto graciously contributed an essay that was a plea to counter extremism and "a clash of civilizations that can lead to Armageddon, where there will be no winners on earth."

If Bhutto's death proves anything, it is the utter failure of Musharraf's regime and the utter failure of the Bush administration's policy of supporting Musharraf. Pakistani civil society has long been calling for Musharraf to resign. Now leaders like former Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif have added their voice to that call, publicly holding Musharraf responsible for Bhutto's death and demanding he step down.

CODEPINK agrees that Musharraf is the biggest obstacle facing a democratic Pakistan today. He is not capable of either fighting extremists or building a society that respects the rule of law. CODEPINK cofounder Medea Benjamin and activist Tighe Barry recently had a taste of his dictatorial ways when they were kidnapped and carjacked at gunpoint by government agents, and then deported for supporting the pro-democracy movement. Click here for a piece by Medea Benjamin on Bhutto's death.

The US government must use this time to radically change its policy towards Pakistan. The Bush administration has been a staunch supporter of Musharraf, providing his regime with over $10 billion in financial aid since 2001. Musharraf's use of US funds to crack down on the country's democratic forces has led to growing anti-American sentiments among the nation's moderate, secular forces. Please click here to sign our petition calling on the U.S. government to withhold assistance until Musharraf steps down and a caretaker government restores the independent judiciary, lifts restrictions on the press and sets up the conditions for fair elections.

We should also begin to focus our attention on one of the key underlying causes for the growth of extremism in Pakistan: the extreme poverty that persists, especially in the tribal areas where al-Qaeda is most active.

Benazir Bhutto spoke about this in the essay she wrote for our book. Her words were poignant then, and are even more poignant upon her death:

"The neglect of rising poverty against the background of religious extremism can only complicate an already difficult world situation. The war against terrorism is primarily perceived as a war based on the use of force. However, economics has its own force, as does the desperation of families who cannot feed themselves. "Militancy and greed cannot become the defining images of a new century that began with much hope. We must refocus our energy on promoting the values of democracy, accountability, broad-based government, and institutions that can respond to people's very real and very urgent needs."

Whether in Pakistan or in our home countries, we can pay tribute to Benazir Bhutto by dedicating ourselves to building a world based on tolerance, cooperation and fulfilling the urgent needs of the human family-which are the pillars of a more peaceful world.

With sorrow,
Dana, Desiree, Farida, Gael, Gayle, Ileana, Jodie, Medea, Nancy, Rae, and Tighe

for those of you who haven't seen sicko yet

voilà.

≈

vor jahren im traum
saß ich im selben moment
papier = gelb wie hier
jemands satz ... nichts im traum
vor den jahren war anders als jetzt
erst am morgen damals deine nachricht
taucht auf die fehlt jetzt deine
zeichen zwischen all jenen
jemands stets ungesetzt und
vor jahren im traum
meine küsse deine
wassersandhaut auf strand breit
und = gelb wie hier
deine hand ... ich auf dir
in den dünen wars anders als jetzt
hab im traum damals niemands
gedicht übersetzt niemals jemands
geschwätz zwischen unsere zungen
gespült schrieb nie fische ins netz
jener niemande nie jemals
nur auf papier der moment
jenes traums wenn der
morgen vor jahren = jetzt.

"i blog therefore i am"

here's a long german interview on the motivations to blog.
and here's one on the german version of facebook's (studivz's) new general terms and conditions.

embrace

to hold you costs me this:
[opens her arms.]

day jumps, night
- ever clumsily -
just falls.

[stands. opens,
closes arms.]

world saw:
[blank space.]
[probe flaw.]

her arms put forth,
flapped shut.

one thought per year
[escapes.]
the others: not.


dich halten kostet mich:/ [öffnet die arme.]/ tag springt, nacht/ - typisch, ungeschickt -/ bricht.// [steht, öffnet,/ schließt die arme.]// welt sieht:/ [nichts.]/ [fühlerfehler.]// ihre arme ausgestreckt,/ verklappt.// ein gedanke jedes jahr/ [entwischt.]/ die andren: nicht.

miscellaneous

lately i've been spending a lot of time thinking about my thesis topic. while researching i came across some interesting links:

code pink for peace - women for peace
women in black - women stand in silent vigil to protest war
teach first - learning to lead while contributing to a community

good gifts - give gifts that make a difference in a war torn country
toms shoes - for every pair of shoes you buy, a poor kid will be given one, too
peace oil - oil maufactured by jews, arabs, druze and bedouin working together

pledge bank - i'll do it, but only if you'll help
book crossing - send a book on a journey

give-and-takes

i say: then take it. for it's
something's gotta give.
i say: i will. i will while you
will leave. they're saying:
something's gotta give.

i think: i heard receipt. for
is it not that what is given
is to keep? i say: it is. i say:
first give, then go, then see.
something's free to keep.


(i've been feeling bad about not writing, so i've written this, and now i feel bad for having written it, eugh, and how bad. i once read about how only vain idiots publish their bad work. [hang on, have i told you this before?] then again, this blog is to document some sort of a creative process, which, for completeness, should also incorporate the not so productive and brilliant pieces. talk about give-and-take, for fuck's sake. - - - i'm beginning to think that writing is a lot like drawing: once you're out of practice, it will take a minimum of ten attempts to get it right again.)

side note

i think it's fantastic that the International Committee of the Red Cross has finally taken a stand on what's happening in Gaza and the West Bank.

'tanz aus narkose' now online

the swiss online magazine nahaufnahmen published my text tanz aus narkose here, alongside the winner of this year's einseitig competition and selected other participants. since it was a swiss price awarded by a swiss jury and a swiss audience, i guess it doesn't come as much of a surprise that the winning text sounds very swiss, too. in the depths of my heart, i probably just wasn't swiss enough for the whole shebang.... then again, i assume that some of you guys will be happy to finally find the text online?

minky down-ing aka "look out, folks, my daughter strips!" (a line written by stephen gyllenhaal)

in an act of planned, yet utterly delusional bravery, i walked up to stephen gyllenhaal (indeed, jake's father) the other day and handed over an exposé for a movie plus four pages of screenplay. i think at first he thought i wanted his son's number or something, but then he agreed to have a look at the stuff. why don't you direct it yourself, he asked, there are too few women directors out there. i said i thought that was a neat idea, wondering whether that is what all normal l.a. people do.

...so much for my diablo cody moment (see one of the posts below).

then stephen and a couple of british poets read their poetry at the oxfam winter poetry reading 2007, up in marylebone. alistair noon of no man's land (lauter niemand) and bordercrossing berlin, who was reading as well, told me about the event. it was the last one in the series, with many brilliant poets participating.

alistair also showed me a nearby poetry library the next day, which i will definitely become a member of first thing on tuesday.

i just learned that jack sadler, a 21-year-old guy who studied at my department, was killed in afghanistan on my birthday. i didn't know him personally, but friends of mine did. with all things else going on (friends and a parent of friends dying in car crashes, strokes, all sorts of stuff), these really seem to be bad times... it is so weird that life and death go hand in hand.

authors penning to please are in league with the devil for sure

when my 'flood story' was published on der standard's homepage, people made all sorts of comments about it. one of those i still remember said something like this kind of writing serves the writing, not the reading. i think it was meant to be an insult, but i actually find it to be a very valid observation.

it is absolutely legitimate to write for the sake of writing!
especially when, had i written any flatter, i would have been accused of shallowness.
or delusions of commercial grandeur.

i am not quite sure why anybody would want a text fitted to a reading audience, pleasing them instead of making life a little more uncomfortable. i think writers should make life uncomfortable. they should make people think by being uneasy.

(just like that critic, you see.)

envying what other people do

perhaps i should call myself Minky Down and try some stripping instead?

then again, diablo cody says she's 'not precious about writing'... however that worked!!
and here are a couple of trailers, in case you're interested.
and an interview with her here.

(god knows i'm just jealous.)

you wouldn't say happy world AIDS day, would you?

i would like to dedicate this to ann cotten

schreibst du mir was, fragt sie nicht.

re: natürlich. schnüre
bleistift bind ich zu nem päckchen.
mach das fenster auf, sag ich zu ihr
im geist und streck den arm raus.
satzig hängts an unsrem handgelenk
im sonnenlicht, wie kitschig. bilden
uns was ein am end, weil wir so
super mit den lauten können.
lauter, lauter. hundebeine.
spatzenweibchen zwickt mich,
dass ich achselzucken muss.
man fängt das auf für uns,
den textwurm, schweigt sie, als ich
nachsehn will, wie hübsch und
aufopferungsvoll die sätze fallen.

kanns zwar nicht beweisen, grins ich,
hab ihr aber was verfasst.