So stupid again, because I only work on my manuscript every two to three days (the approx. 10I don't even count a day's break during the bleeding payment) can work. In between, I lie on the weather-beaten deckchair and listen to Mahler, Adagietto no.5. music, so excessively beautiful. And yet I can't get into that shock of the last time (lange her? Days? Weeks?), when I suddenly saw Raven in the building waves, like circling in the soft circles of these stunningly beautiful violins, in the steel blue sky. Musik and Vogel probably had a secret appointment to work together…. I, far below, on my chair, must have been crying loudly and visibly, so that the heads in the reciprocating cement mixer turned briefly to me. But I can cry so loud, how I want, Raven! I am a woman! occurred to me. And that I won't let that take me, just in defiance, because for decades and centuries, respectively, people amused myself crying and hurting like me! I've only been able to since then, since that beautiful being swept away in Mahler's concentric circles, in Raven's wing beats, just spend my hours dull and decadent again, by spending countless of them with it, To google and compare jewelry made of different stones, to create lists, Sapphire, real from fake tries, to distinguish, the versions, in which the gemstones lie, to consider, flower shapes, then go back to favoring plain oxidized silver. And above all again and again: the black Diamond! But the, honestly, is not available on Etsy or anywhere else on the web. So I think, the black Diamond: that's my Raven anyway, the art of its flight, his flapping! Art, with which he keeps me flapping, while the dull everyday life with Myalgic E/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome drives me out of life, in what year, and I can't write for hours anymore, can no longer think for whole days and weeks, (what is reasonable! I mean, the attempt, to think!), so as not to look for the tasty pain, that I am in him now, my little pinson, have lost. Him, which I love in Mahler's symphonies, by pulling myself up and recreating that love within me, but at the same time, so easy, I don't love him anymore and have forgotten him, how to forget everything, in the brain. And anyway; What is it: a fetishizing of Eros?! asking for everything, only not, to be dead inside, and to supplement the standstill of the body, which is simultaneously crackling in the fire, with a standstill of a melody from a more fluid interior?! pain, Naturally, the physical, I have that. But that means nothing to me, I don't even know, whether I still perceive these tedious stabbings correctly, over many routes. But still, also the various forms of the excessive (Vegetating) need their complement in some form of work! And I can work less and less, because the recovery of the mitochondrion always takes longer. So I am and I am like that medieval lady in Mann's Magic Mountain on page 430….. who does nothing else a hundred times a day, as their colors, to change her jewelry, while the disease covers their skin, the agony consumes their sight. But about this waiting for death, sometimes closer sometimes further away, over her body, she spreads her fake or real jewels, her little anecdotes, while her pneumothorax rattles:
“But Frau von Mallinckrodt was number fifty, First name Natalie, with black eyes and golden rings in their ears, flirty, addicted to cleaning and at the same time a female Lazarus and Job, beaten by God with every kind of resilience. Her system seemed flooded with toxins, so that all sorts of diseases attacked them alternately and simultaneously. …. …. soon she drank from the sippy cup, the fingers without the exception of the thumbs up to the joints with opals, Loaded with amethysts and emeralds, told, while the golden rings on her ears swung, how everything happened to her: from her decent, but boring man, their also decent, but boring kids, and of the half boy, with whom she fled and whose poetic tenderness she praised very much ….” etc.
But yes, of course you become decadent, when you can't work for years! Zizek said: I say: Zizek said: work makes … Lol. No. I have to think, before i say anything. So I say: Work makes you calm! work helps me, to achieve a reasonable psychological daily form. Work is an indispensable part of the whole….
Of course I can talk a little, but writing isn't often enough anymore: the writing, for which I have to think first, not to that….. so I'm forced, with thinking many, to pause for many hours… the flattened or torn out structures in my brain … to bridge. But with what?
Excuse me, that I savor my own fin de siècle…. Point.
(But the Black Diamond: Anyway! That’s Raven!)