Lieber Henry, this chapter is at least ten years old, but the content takes place ten years and more earlier. I'm not her anymore, which I made the protagonist here, i am whole, completely different. This is the problem of a job, how “Belief”, which I wrote for more than ten years, so I grew faster, than the texts of the first three chapters. Please contact, as agreed, whether something “your personal rights” hurt. I put it in italics, what might be important.
I do not know, what i with this “old novel” supposed to do. He blocks my whole life ….
I know one
I want to tell something about one, that I know. she, that I know, was no wallflower at the time, nor was she a femme fatale. But a fatal woman, but, but, she definitely was! Say for sure, who she was, I can not. But I know one thing, as true as my name is: she, that I know, really only had the romance in mind. And nothing more!
So she must have been about eleven years old, when she was thrown out by Bicciclietti-Massimo, was sent to hell, because she couldn't give him the required kiss on the cheek, out of awe and respect for love! Then she hung on Brummbach-Thisli, a taciturn, red-haired milk head like an evergreen fruit, as a teacher Jimmy-Dean-Beck, the botched theater director piggybacked her because of a pulled tape on the summer camp night. At fourteen you are still halfway connected with paradise. But then one came and kissed her at the delicate age of eighteen, ashen hair, and took away her innocence, a broken cigar in hand, five years later! He was long-necked and malicious as a swan, wrote her thirteen sonnets, who were in no way inferior to Shakespeare and had a leap. "Do you want to go with me?“, he asked enervated on Friday evening and grinned on Monday morning: „Go away!“Then he went himself, but as he walked he kept turning to her and kissing her, sobbing this time, all over again, while at the same time he pushed her away, three days later, by kissing her even more tenderly, etc. Finally he tore himself away from her by force and she sank down. Into the arms of a woman who understands women and an occasional waiter the size of a young girl.
This woman understander, that has to be said, was a whorl and liveliness stitch, like no one has ever seen him! But he neglected his economic advancement in cold blood, to women like her, who fell in love with Struwwelpeter at the age of almost twenty, down to the soup tonic-, had skimmed, fatal women, to feed and fatten in his boathouse. She devoured this love within a short time and owed it to him with a yawn!
With that the climax was reached and love, that clear glass of water, tarnished like muddy sand, broke into a thundering keyboard of discrepancies and ambivalences! She was twenty-four now and found several hearts within herself, but none big enough for one, but for this and that, for several at the same time a small one! So this is what it looked like in her chest, how fatal! But she trembled mightily! But she believed from now on, a man doesn't just have to carry a woman on his hands, but can also read and interpret emotionally like a book. That's what she called the boys enthusiastically now: "Lords of Creation" and wanted an Arthur Miller by their side, who read the newspaper to her and educated her, maybe even secretly educated (?!)(Although she was by no means the Monroe!)
Lords of creation! Storm, please add continuously!, demanded a boys list pinned to the head of her bed, called "Wehrmachtsbüchlein", with which the fatal demanded itself to do so, this thing with the boys, gives, but please don't neglect it. (so negligible: such as career planning or housekeeping.) So there was a tall and emaciated one, Adonis-like offspring with blue maiden eyes and a penchant for Rimbauds Season in Hell in this Wehrmacht booklet, who liked to pour her as much alcohol as possible. About this lumpy offspring of a former noble family, who spent his life making locks out of mini baby bell cheese cases, it said in the list marginally: may be, I love him, but probably an A … sch. Or there was a man named Lampert Loop circulating, a bloated one, elderly king in the style of Louis Quatorze, the her on the roof of his house, naked under his white bathrobe, offered a few crushed strawberries, marginalized: hellishly charismatic and so vulgar, most likely an A … sch. Lampert Loop was unique, who had succeeded between the limits of his bipolar spectrum, to design the Hotel Dubai Beach from the cut of her crinoline nightgown in paper mache. To be with her undisturbed, he built between himself and the floor of his longtime patron, which of course meant his wife was a heavy concrete door—- I have to leave out the further details here, since those concerned are still among the living and I am too shy of people, to cause me any friction. By the way: a big married couple! A man named Plum, best dressed stone- and plastic artists of the city (he owned only one seventy-year-old suit) was in the boys list of the fatals as dull like an old shoe sole and distinguished like a dry sea urchin designated, but then removed from the Wehrmacht booklet, after he is said to have spread the rumor in the trendy bar, that he had to wear a harlequin mask when having intercourse with her … probably an A ... sh ... List closed.
She has, that I know, but hardly ever, or only rudimentarily, had anything so difficult to have in romance as sexual intercourse with these men, back then. Just looked at the men very well and tried to find out, where they actually looked with their eyes, If you, grob kursorisch, but never long enough, looked deep enough into hers. (And at this point I know her very well again!) At best she could go down and into these man's eyes, if necessary without one, indispensable for such intimacy, want to say, divine touch? That was a difficult one, but quite intoxicating thing, back then, for the little Fatale, the tender, bulky wallflowers, so over the edge of this more or less closed, peek inside barricaded men's shells and feel their touch, her little bit of intimacy, sweet like honey, secretly easy to steal!
She spent the nights with Lampert, Rimbeau-Beau or Plum, then drove her away, like the lightest leaf floating through the empty streets of the city on the most direct route to Till, who at this time was already crouching over a beige newspaper in the cafeteria of the local city library.
Who he was? Now, an aspiring history doctor, who financed his studies by cleaning large commercial buildings. But something else at heart! Obviously he was a collector of He-Man and other bare-chested, lance-hung primal heroes of Play-Mobile size, and a passionate writer of historical and fictional prose, who gladly paid for plenty of laughing gums. And otherwise his everyday life apparently consisted only of sleep deprivation, Junk food, Parental duty and a forest full of constraints, through which he walked, like one led by strings, mysterious puppet. The work was his subject, his fate, fast, like hers was romance, then or the speaking body, with which he never had a problem, by the way. On the contrary, that her body spoke and caused symptoms, for him was only an expression of radical self-determination (what a mistake of him!), and sometimes you could have thought, he would like to have a body like that for himself, just, to be catapulted out of the galley (as he called his work) and to be done with rowing, once and for all, haunted by a bigger one, more existential need.
When it blew into the city library cafeteria in the early hours of the morning, the makeup smeared, the clothes smoked, wanted Till, who was then about to, to become her best friend, always be informed in a warm state, what experiences they have with the Lords of creation done again, what lapses she and his kind had to deal with again. He absorbed these stories in great detail, she commented sensitively at first, then amused, then gleefully, but always like a best friend, a buddy and best friend. I don't want to claim, that she, that I know, bumped into him. But addressed, she already has him in some way, as I remember here:
"Sorry, I hope you don't think I'm sloppy, if I bother you here at work like that. But I've been watching you for weeks and I've had my thoughts. And now I'd love to share these thoughts with you. may I? No fear, I don't want to turn you on or kiss you, I don't like you that much! I'm sure it itches me a bit, but not too tight. You look so pale and unkissed, I have to say that. I think, you could be one for me. And, I think, i could make you. Might be unlucky, Lower brimstone and gold into your good-natured man's vessel, and you would always want to understand me, want to read, just like your newspaper. Sag, would you like to become something as beautiful and precious as my best friend?“ That was a long one, but very smooth intro from the little one, fatal. Nonetheless, towards the end of the last movement she had fought against a certain hyperventilation. “That comes as a surprise and sounds bold. And like you're pretty romantic..." He, which I call the Platonic here, looked up kindly. "I, romantic? Not me!“, she screamed, that I know, already on. "I'm very reasonable! Romantic … maybe I was as a schoolgirl, when I dreamed of my first kiss with Massimo or of chewing Batzokak with teacher Jimmy-Dean Beck! Good, what a little brat I was!“ – “You wanted to chew gum with your teacher, who looked like James Dean? That must have been a great teacher … “You have to imagine it like this: She was standing in the cafeteria, leaning against his dingy table with all her featherweight, covered with books and coffee mugs. Nevertheless, she rocked dangerously fast with the sole of her black left pump, like she's about to jump. "I see, the. Well, tjein. Actually, he was a schoolroom drill, commander jingling his spurs! ‘How you bore me!’, he often exclaimed during class. ‘None of you do anything extraordinary, no one will achieve anything!'" - "Seems to have been quite a prick, this teacher. Then what happened to you two, I mean …” – “On an erotic level?”, she snapped at him. "Na, Nothing! I also switched to business school, where someone from high school, over there, massively under his spell with a confession… ”-“ What was the confession??' The Platonic looked straight at her for the first time: „Sag, don't you want to sit down?She ignored the comment and stomped a little faster, this time with the right foot. "He suddenly couldn't be serious anymore in the absolutely serious matters of life, since he knew me! Any activity, which he liked up to this day, I now feel distasteful and impracticable. The erasing, Making music, das Rubbeln. Which immediately made me his plaything! And, but, not a bad idea! I sit down next to you!” - “Hm. Am I wrong, or it can be, that you're quite into asses?” Now it was her turn, to be disenchanted. "But no! What do you think!?"-" An ass would never harmonize with me!" - "Why not?"-" Well, lets say it like this: I noticed some time ago, that I am a woman, who wants to become the man herself, that she always wanted! And for this reason, of course, I can't need a man by my side, with whom I harmonize. Do you understand, what I mean? Okay, I could sit down for a moment. Why not.” A smile crossed his face, while pulling the empty metal chair out from under the table. "Not really." He then said rather cautiously. It was already clear to her: he couldn't hurt a fly. "Never mind. I am used to it, that no one understands me!“, she cried enthusiastically. "I confess, I often don't understand myself! Especially then, when it matters, that at least I understand myself, I realize, that I don't understand! If you do not understand me, I'm thinking, that doesn't matter, as long as you just pretend, like you understand me! This is actually very important to me in all people, do you understand?“ – “Hm.” He cleared his throat. "The idea, that you become the man, who apparently caused you pain, irritates me a little. But maybe there is also a method. In psychodrama you evidently act out an action from life and thereby gain something like distance. What happened then, with you and the guy? That ass, who doesn't even bother anymore because of you …" - "I see!“, she exclaimed, as if he had just broached a new subject. "Oh well, he then left me sitting with someone else. Was a tough time, believe me! She would hardly have survived, I wouldn't be at the bottom of a love, good-hearted people have been saved. Momentchen, be right back. Just get me a coke at the machine!' Apparently he was very short-sighted. At least as short-sighted, wie Tony Curtis in Some Like it Hot. A myopia, by the way, which she attracted not a little, as she now thought again, while stomping away on her black heels. After all, the less one saw, the closer he looked. "It wasn't a man, I assume …“, he remarked, when she returned to the table with a coke. "Naturally! Why shouldn't it have been a man?? I love the masters of creation! I always want to be a man's newborn baby!- Hm. You just wanted to be a man's ass. And now suddenly a toddler. I don't understand that now!She kicked her legs and reached into a sticky coke stain on the table. "But that does not matter! At all: don't be so subtle! IAfter all, I lived with this unlikely harmonicist for almost two years. Up to and including the moment, in which the matter of marriage came up!” Although he basically had small eyes, he widened his eyes now. "You're married?!” She laughed happily. “Maybe I should be, Tillchen, i should, maybe, that's your name, or?! But that's another, stupid little story.” – “They are often my favourites!' She heard something cracking in his voice. While he also noticed a brief leveling off in her mood. "For real? Then you did it the other way around than me! Because I like the big ones best. tragedies, Love dramas. Psychologically finely ramified depth!"-" You are romantic after all!"-" I? forget it!' There was a little pause. "Tell me your stupid little story?" - "Which? But, so, this: and! But i am warning you: This is just my stupid little life!' There was another short pause. To which he asked almost politely: "May I smoke a cigarette for a moment?? Then I want to hear your story!She nodded as unmotivatedly as she could and looked after him, how he disappeared outside with a pack of cigarettes in his hand. She watched from afar, how he lit a cigarette and a deep one in the yard, almost contemplative train. And she thought to herself: "Lord God, I want to be his cigarette! But only, when he pulls me in so dismissively and ordinary, as engrossed and enraptured as that stupid fag there!' The platonic returned. "And?“, he said smiling.
"And? And also,“, she began, "I just got home from school. And the question of financing my life was in principle before me. But life sometimes has silly incidents. In my case, there was one with an asshole.” That wasn't a great start. She knew it and lowered her eyes, offended. But he exclaimed: "Another asshole after all! And who was it this time??"-" Yes, with my asshole body. You must know: my body speaks. gibberish, in Symptoms. If you understand, what I mean. “Hm. I can't speak that language.” He said quietly. "What did he say, your asshole body?" - "He said to me: Storm, you're about to scratch off! Unless, you go to bed immediately! I lay about a year … " - "That is long, when you just got out of school …"You're telling the truth there!“It was part of the flow of speech, that she nudged him relatively roughly with her shin at this point. "But then, one day it got better. And I thought, if I haven't scraped off this vegetative blah-blah by now...” – “What?“, he intervened. "That vegetative blah blah...dystonia...that's what they call it, the Salad…. Then maybe I can try a little walk again!“ – “A nice idea.” – “Yes, I agree! I got up with shaky legs, grabbed hammer and nail and went down to the river, where the ferryman was already lying in the grass with little flowers in his long blond hair and necklaces around his neck, a moon face, as lush and radiant on top as Johnny Depp. ”-“ The woman who understands!“, exclaimed Til. And you, that I know: "I called then: ‚He, of, can you quickly row me over to the boathouse?' Is, in a pink shirt, low cut across the chest, jumped to his feet and scornfully spat out a piece of chewing tobacco. 'Nothing better than the madame!’Then he held out his hand to me, so that I could get in the boat and hammer my marriage ad on the wall of the boathouse over there!” – “Strange location, for an offer. What did you write?” – “He, what you write like that. That I'm just over twenty, Muscular on the legs and fairy built on the chest, a mixture of general Napoleon and little Piaf. And that he, my breadwinner, should like money a little. I mean, not exactly idolize, that's stupid, but he should already have a pinch of it!” Till was silent for a while. before he noticed: "Then you hadn't become the man then, who you want to be, I assume …? What other expectations did you have in marriage??” When she heard the word marriage she laughed from cheek to cheek. "Na, to increase my chances a bit, I still wrote: ‘This pact is purely business! So let's go with the necessary pleasure, the necessary, playful distance to work!’ Whether I hadn’t become the man yet, of the … hmm…” She seemed to be seriously considering. "Oh well, I still wanted to be a princess a little bit back then, I have to admit... not a prince's princess, though, If you understand, what I mean …" - “of a frog, maybe? I can only try!“, he answered a bit too boldly. And then: "And? Did someone respond to your ad at the boathouse?” – “No, not really. This means, two weeks later I decided to check it out, what happened to my note down by the river. It was a desolate day, the wind almost knocked me down. ‘What is the state of affairs?’, the ferryman called me, this time in a colored parrot shirt, from a long way off. Hoped to my feet and pulled myself into the boat, that slipped away, before I gave him the two francs for the crossing …“ – “A symbolic reward …”, said Till thoughtfully, almost abysmal. "And then?“-“ So it was a storm. And the ferryman had trouble, to maneuver the boat against the current with the heavy rod, which flooded along rather moved. Suddenly, we were just in the middle of the river, he climbs dangerously far out onto the edge of the boat with the smooth heels of his highly curved Cuban pointed shoes and falls overboard from behind. 'The state of affairs? Because of the marriage?’, I exclaimed cool, leaned forward, because I wanted to see it, whether he can swim too, the man. And that's when he reached out for me, and I fell too!“ – „Hoppla! What happened then?“, Till asked and drank the rest of what was apparently his third cup of black coffee. “So we were glued and wriggling together, dripping wet, not knowing, whether fish or something else. 'Well, I would marry you right away!’, then it rattled through his teeth. Then we crawled ashore, this means, I'm pretty lifeless in his arms, disappeared into his boathouse and kissed us like flocks of sinking and rising birds for five days and five nights …" - "That is, depending on, pretty persistent …"-" Do you think so? And, maybe it was two months. In any case, the first autumn leaves already adorned the bank, then an endless terrible howl came over me!" - "Why then?“-“ It was over with me and Wim, I couldn't top the last kiss. "- “Hm. Is kissing a competition?? I hope, your silly little story doesn't end here...” She, that I know, gave him a challenging look. "Unfortunately. This means, Yes and no. Although …” - "Although something?” - “Is not important for the story. Doesn't change anything in the matter now …” He noticed her bad mood. And she noticed, that he noticed. "Depending on the situation, an open ending can be quite nice." He said encouragingly. "Do you think?“, she said dully, and her heart leapt merrily. She had imagined him to be just as courteous and lovely. "Well and, he didn't care a thing about beep, whether I wanted to kiss him or not, you know.” – “Oh yes?” - “Yes, he said to me: ‘You just go on, I remain,’ and: 'I kissed you. This is enough for me for a lifetime.’” – “Hm. I don't understand that now. Was his love for you platonic??” Till asked unsuspectingly. she, that I know, called loudly, fast so, as if an insect had bitten her: “But, No, don't talk tin! We had kissed, our relationship was over. Definitely, fast …“ – „Fast?"-" Well, you know. I was also a little relieved, that he didn't give a damn about kissing. That way I got pleasure again, kissing him, but only for the pleasure of kissing, from low lust, also, so to speak, If you understand, what I mean … - Hm. I did not know that, that there is a higher and lower pleasure in kissing …"-" Yet, it does exist! Tillchen! But never mind, if it's new to you. Can't know everything either. It's not your area. Only good, that you don't know the difference! The fact is: now something drastic happened …” – „Was?“-“ It was autumn and the mice slipped through the perforated partition walls of the boat shed and crawled over the damp sheets. One morning the owner of the canoe company stood on the other side of the river and called over to us in a threatening voice: 'You no good, there, Tomorrow at eight I will collect my rent!’And a sonorous, melodious voice called back: ‚Yes ready, You'll have your four hundred francs tomorrow, perfectly clear!’But nothing has changed. He was a ferryman and waiter! But he hadn't gone to serve in the drunkards up in town since we'd met. ”-“ He stopped going to work, that's brave of him. Why not?' Till's voice almost trembled. "Oh well, he served me from behind and from the front!” – „Was?!” - „No, not like you think, human, Mann! But with garlic bread, Fish casseroles, golden buttons, daring sea shanties, spicy grogs and gold water from trans-siberia, with excursions on his Vespa, with his huge hand on my heart, the days- and rested for nights, as if my body wanted to burst at any moment..." - "I don't quite understand. Then his work ethic returned once more?" - "From, don't you want to go back to work?’, I asked him once, early November. 'You're the most popular and forgiving waiter in town! You can juggle ten wine glasses in your elbows?! They're just throwing the tip at you, because you won't charge them anything after the third schnapps! When you are a waiter again and have your wages again, you rent a new one with it, more solid lottery house!’ I said all that and more to him, you know …" - "And? He gave in?"-" He just shook his head and all in all became quite melodramatic: 'You go on quietly! I stay and keep our time together, here!’So he said. And he looked after and served me from top to bottom for another pretty wet winter and another spring. A new summer was just around the corner, and suddenly I didn't know anymore, it was now a frailty on a freaky whim, with me, that I was served like this. Or because he loved me too much, that my body was suddenly speaking gibberish so clearly! Or was it really easy in the end, because I can't do it myself ...” - “Because you can't do something?” – „”On, love, who also deserves it!” - „Ach, nobody deserves that!” How resigned he suddenly sounded! She wasn't in the mood, to take him in your arms. She exclaimed vehemently: "You do! You know, how i watched you, in the library, all the days, I immediately thought to myself: that could be one for me! My gentle newspaper chewer, my indulgent, persistent reader! As I said, I don't want to turn you on or just kiss you, certainly not at all, because …” - "Because what?” She frowned. "I have to confess to you, currently i believe, i love one!“ – Ahh!" - "At least, this means: fast! His name is Rimbaud-Beau …” - “And does he love you too, fast, this Rimbeau beau?” - "Well, I visit him, he prefers to fill me with red. He lives like a monk, only of rice and wine. He almost falls off his clothes. He speaks in Weltschmerz and cynical sayings, fond of evil philosophers and despising of pregnant women. But always with such sugar-blue round eyes.” - “And you like that kind of ass?“-“ But no. Or maybe, theoretically. A little bit, but not really! You must know: I practically cannot indulge in such an icy cold, without breaking! I can't kiss someone so hot and cold, real, without me another, a warm one, helps, later, to get back on your feet in unreal life!” – "A lurker? Aha!“-“ Besides, I've already done it!“ – „Was?"-" I am broken.” - “Damage … ” - "And do you know, what he's asking for it now?” - "Required, for what? That you slept with him?" - "But no! Therefore, that I loved him!A few faces looked up from behind their newspapers and looked at her. "I see!' She felt a little displeased. How blind did this little spectacled snake lamb like, be bare! "And! A receipt! A confirmation, cruel evidence, for something, which can never be acknowledged afterwards! Can love be poured into something as small as words, I ask you that? Can you catch them and connect them to coherent statements, Tillchen?!” Her voice was so loud now, that several people in the cafeteria lowered their newspapers. "Maybe he just wants to know, what he is with you?” – “What he is with me? Now it gets even better! Just, because he can't feel it?“She snorted. “Well you would never want to know, what you are with me! That wouldn't even be in your interest. How you have no desire at all, all in all, Something fetched from me like to ask for proof from me! Sag, do you want to become something as small and extraordinarily large as my best friend??” – “I think, you overestimate me” he said sadly. "No, it's you, who underestimates himself! And I think that's cute. No fear, i will not attack you! I don't like you that much, That I would endanger both of our lives for you or me. I don't kiss you. But a little, I have to admit that, it attracts me …" - "Now yes?! Kiss? Although you don't like me? Is not that a contradiction? So I don't understand that now!” Till thought about a cigarette. "But that does not matter! It's not your area of expertise either, your subject. Basically floating above things, like a lord of creation hovers over things, I mean, the real stuff, the matters of the heart! what the heck, I don't understand myself! So just promise me one thing! Should I make the stupid attempt, kissing you in a thoughtless moment …“-“ I don't like to make promises …“
and so it continues, in this cycle. she, that I know, had a friendship with Till for a year, then a love affair for three months. Then a year half of a love affair, two years and a quarter of a love affair, another year a crumb, then a crumble relationship and immediately. I don't want to go into that any further now, because sometimes it's just a long one, tough story deeply mundane. It creates no drama. You can twist and turn it, as you want.
But maybe this at the end: A, that I know, a fatal, kissed him. Silly. I wouldn't have done it if I were her. But I say Amen to that. I really know her?
Only the romance in mind. And nothing else.
(2012)