Back again after a few hours. Let me tell you that Wiebke and I now live in our own flat. We havent got it set up yet but already it is pretty. The bedroom is mostly in order. Wiebke set up the stereo today; so for the bedroom now, it is only CDs tapes, pictures and boxes to be organized. The toiletless bathroom is part of the bedroom. The geometry of the window at right angles to the bathroom door, both being at 45 degrees to the bedrooms somewhat squareness, make for an attractive focus on the room. The window also opens to the view of trees which is far more pleasant than the smell of cars and the view of the Stadtbath of our previous dwelling. The kitchen also looks out the back. It has a small balcony which is also our refrigerator until we buy one. We also lack a kitchen table and cupboards and shelves, and I lack a job. The living-room may become my work space if and when I get inspired to draw, paint or write. We hare a toilet with one neighbor. Ive never seen him but Ive heard his television when Im by his door and Ive smelled his stench after hes visited the shitter.
Lets have a new paragraph to exclaim the joy of the forest proximity. Large woodland is straight up the end of our street. Most excellent on account I like trees much more then cars and people. We also have a bakery, a Getrinkmarket for our water supply, a drug store for nothing I ever buy but at least its there and a couple small grocery stores. Germany doesnt have variety stores that stay opened late. They dont even have them. Everything is closed at 6:00 P.M. except gas stations, where sometimes you can get a few things to eat such as beer and cigarettes. Two things I have no use for. So you have to make sure you have enough bread on Friday to get through the weekend. Funny how physical reality can take up so much of your time. Its unavoidable, especially if you share your life with someone. I wouldnt give up sharing my life. I have trouble if Wiebke goes away for a week. I dont want aloneness, beyond the eminent personal detachment we all share, anymore. I had enough of it and I was never without friends; although it sometimes felt like it. Im a bit without friends now that I left them 8,000 km. away. A few friends are 14,000 km. away, who live in BC Sorry about the sentence structure on that last sentence. Ive met a few people here but have yet to be close to anyone. Wiebke of course is in a different category. I believe we are quite close and getting closer. It works out well. I want to smother someone in love and be smothered in love and Wiebke is the same only more. I still suffer a little from mistrust of women and a mild hatred for humans that makes me a bit of an ass at times. Why is it so much fun to write with a green Bic pen? They arent environmentally friendly just because they write with green ink. Did you notice more cars are green the last few years? Whats up with that foolishness? And what if man is de-evolving. Technological advances doesnt necessarily, indicate evolving. There are more indications to show it has increased our rate of de-evolving. Shouldnt this be a major concern? Im having a hard time staying hopeful. I hate to think Im deceiving myself. On the other hand - Why not make a masterpiece, I keep thinking. So what if it is only howling at the moon: so what if Im the only one who witnesses it. So what if one day I finally figure out how to write a great novel and it goes unnoticed. Or so what if it gets world wide recognition. Everything is forgotten after time. Nothing matters but whats in your life, so Id guess. Without trying to sound cold, it doesnt matter that life sucks for most people if they never interfere in mine. Should I care? If I say I do and do nothing, how is that better? Do you care that children are being killed in some countries when they cant feed them? Do you care that a frightening high number of women are raped? Do you care that fathers rape their young daughters? Do you care that government is corrupt? All governments. So what if you care? Why dont you do anything? Are we crippled? I know youve tried to help a little. Maybe youve saved someones life. My cousins husband will be dead before you read this. He is dying because he shared a needle. Pretty shitty reason to dye for one little mistake in youth. And now suddenly I want to be silly. How shall I do it? A silly poem could be in order. But wouldnt you know it, I havent one to give. Unless:
Now here it is, a silly little poem
About anything or a yellow comb
For any reason thats bound to appear
Like leprosy in artists drinking cheap beer.
I walked in the woods, past all the trees;
Where theres flowers, theres often bees.
Are you still pretty, do you mind that I ask?
You have nice titties, as well as a good ass.
People are strange, and so what the hell,
Chickens are silly and a pile of shit smells.
Handles are for buckets, plugs for the sink,
You know dam well Ill say something about dinks.
I cant resist a poke at genitalia,
Jesus Christ, we have to impale ya.
God dam it, that is getting pretty bad.
Rhyming each sentence is making me mad.
Why some poems have nothing like that.
And they get printed at the tip of a hat.
Just have the connections, grease a few palms;
If thats not enough, suck a few dongs.
So thats quite fine; Ive uttered my fill.
Now Ill shut-up and will be still.
_bunnie stop_
In as much as it is bound to happen, I suppose the future is there but I dont succumb to the idea that we may be visited by people in the future and I dont believe anything beyond guessing is prophecy of the future. And so the point of this sudden discourse on a quiet night in Deutschland, is that although we might think of pimpley face, broken glasses with tape and plastic pocket protectors with 7 pens in it, kind of boys when we think of history, I believe we should forget our stifling stereotyping for a while to see what has captured their attention. Im coming to understand that history may be the most important thing to understand before blundering any farther into what we have guessed to be our future.
Wiebke is digging through her history as I speak. This isnt what I spoke of but shes there laughing at pictures of herself and friends.
I can be an asshole but it doesnt help much but I will be if I have to. I am thinking mostly of a TV and how Id hate to have one. When theyre around, theres a chance, when youre board, to turn it on and thats too bad because anything you could think to do, and theres always something, is better than sacrificing your time and brain on that shit. But I wont discuss it farther so have no dread.
I like fruit tea. Im not sure if my spelling will get better or worse as I learn Deutsch. I think I better run give Wiebke a kiss.
Shes having a good time in there.
How about some dribble about my desperate life. Lets start with the music changing from Lynie Kravits to Devorack to set the mood. Unfortunately, the only thing to complain about is my lack of money and my Auslander status, which means my total lack of rights and chances for things that came so easy in Canada, like a visit to the doctor, which I never did anyway, job - thats the one. Lets focus here a moment. Not only am I up shit creek without a paddle, as the would say, I cant find my fucking boat and Im up to my eye balls and will soon find it hard to breathe. Leave the melodrama a moment for the facts. Fact one. I hate the German mail. It not only cost much too much, 3.00 DM to send Canada a letter, but they send letters back to senders as often as an important letter comes. If the shit for brains asshole jerk-off hadnt sent my work papers back instead of putting them in the mail box as most letters go, I would have a job. But in the extra week that they were lost, new complications have arose and I may be without a job at the Irish Pub. Chances of getting a job, other than prostitution, are highly unlikely, for Auslanders can only have a job no German wants. We see high unemployment here so Steves in shit if he cant freak out the boss enough to hirer him. Him, thats me. With no job, since I now have no money and owe Wiebke 5 or 600 DM, - Wiebke is having a fit looking at a school book or something. Its not good to write with people around, especially people who want your attention. And the problem with this cheep pen is that my baby finger becomes green.
What was I on about? Oh. Did you notice I can sometimes keep to a subject for a few sentences now. I just realized that. I may gain my faculties. Wouldnt that be a treat? The situation is that if the fuckin bastard had delivered my letter, Id have a job, thus money to buy food and pay rent. Now there could be trouble. Maybe I want trouble but this may be the wrong time and method.
I have my work papers now, but theres trouble in Frankfort office about maybe a German applied for the job and should have it and how come the paper is only good for 2 months. And no one hires under the table because the forces of the law, which Germany has in large, check for Auslanders working illegally and fine the establishment.
I just thought of something. I could construct a most impressive letter, with a translated copy, explaining my qualifications and Auslander predicament and why an English person is better suited for the job. Grasping at straws, so they say. What about modeling?
There is probably a hundred solutions. Its only despair that would keep a fellow from thinking of a few. Lets try: prostitution, drug trafficking, any others, oh, the bid for help through a boastful letter - but whats better? Counterfeiting, robbing a bank or a gas station (no previous experience), phone Canadian consulate and offer myself as chauffeur, Ive done that for the Swedish consulate, play my guitar in the cold wet market when no one is likely to give more than 10 phenigs, Im not so good at performance, bum on the street. Auslander, cant eat, send money or give me work. Wiebke is trying to lay an egg or get a cock to fuck her or something. Im going to see if she can bare me not reacting. Its not very nice of me but I want to train her to let me write when I have the urge. One day I may have the urge to write something somewhat relevant to my direction that Im sure to find one day.
Wouldnt that be something? Billy said with a pointed grin. And the symphony is coming to a pompous end typical of that kind of music and Lynard Scynard. How bout a song?
What can an Auslander do for money
What can he do for cash?
Cant get a job at the car wash
Cant find any food in the trash.
What can an Auslander do for money
How does he buy his food?
Well, you get the idea. Something on that vain. Ill try when Ive some time on my own. Now its almost 03:00 and its time for sleep.
_bunnie stop_
Morning time now. Tuesday 3 or 4 of 94. Im running a bath. Ive still got my cold. And I want another go at this Auslander song.
Ive got the Auslanders blues.
Ive got the Auslanders blues.
Ive got those outrageous most
Out landishest Auslander blues.
Okay the course is something like that. Lets try a verse now.
Ive got no food on my table
Ive got no water in my sink
If I could afford to do it
This might drive me to drink.
The landlady is sending me letters
And theyre not just to say hello.
They say something in a strange language.
I think she wants me to go.
There goes it. Something like that. Get the mood? A little folky maybe.
Till later, Franny.
Wouldnt you know it? I thought of several verses and another song while in the tub. Lets see if I can remember any at all. Lets start with:
My woman doesnt need me
But wants me just the same.
She said I should learn the rules
Learn to play their game.
Ive got to learn to pay the piper
Learn to grease their palms.
Maybe learn a few cords so I
Can learn to play my songs.
Course -
Had another verse about, what was it? Maybe Ill have to get back in the tub. Oh, lets try:
Ive got no Benzin in my Auto
Ive got no Auto in my drive
Ive got only two more pieces of bread
To keep me alive
Cant afford to go to the doctor
And you know Im always sick
My teeth are falling out of my head
Ill have to make some out of sticks.
Course -
Ive got no shampoo to wash my hair
Ive got no soap to scrub my hands
Ive got no water to wash my clothes
Ive got no shoes on which to stand.
Cant afford to go to my home land
I wouldnt want to it I could
I only want to be with my woman
Shes the only thing makes me feel good.
Course -
How bout this one? Lets see. How does it go.
Ive got words
Ive got words to sound absurd
Ive got words to make you cry
Ive got words to make you angry
Ive got words until I die
But I aint got any meaning
Not without someone to hear my song
-
-
Ive got words to charm a woman
Ive got words to get into her pants
Ive got words for religious discourse
Ive got words for political rants
But I aint got any feeling
Sitting here all alone
-
-
Something like that. Maybe just another (I cant decipher the word I wrote here.) I just enjoy to hear myself rant and rave. Guess Ill do it till my grave. Never seem to tire even if its all the same. When Ive written it all twice, I start to do it again. Enough for now. Ill drag Wiebke out of bed so we can have breakfast and do a couple things before the sun goes down. Spater Alligator.
_bunnie stop_
Childrens poem.
Lambs are made for cuddling
Some are made for chops
Some are made for sweaters
Some are made for socks.
Now here we are, Francisca, on the 7th of January. My German has not got much better. I have been to distracted with the moving and not getting a job and having no money.
We had our first dinner guests in our new home. Toby and Nevin. Toby, I know from school, he doesnt go any more because he had to work so many shifts at Irish pub while people were away and I had no papers. Now people arent away and my papers dont seem to matter now. He is from the south part of England. His presence in this land is because of Nevin. She studied a year in England to learn English, the Germans do that, and met Toby. Similar to Wiebkes story. She was there a couple months when she met Toby; then instead of going to school, she learned to talk to him. She knows 4 languages. German is native as well as Turkish because her parents are or were. English and maybe the other is French. It was a good evening. I made a most yummy pasta, which we had after the party and baguette we bought in France and afterwards, an hour at least, we had a chocolate mouse which was made by Wiebke.
The sun still refuses to shine. Two days a month, it will be partially sunny. The river is flooding a little as well from the warm temperatures and all the rain. They closed the Stadtautobahn. We didnt have such a pretty time this morning. After only a short sleep, the door bell started singing their warning song. Hello, get out of bed. It was the washer machine look man. Not the repairman. Apparently, this kind of machine cant be fixed by their own service men.
The first man was here Wednesday for one hour. He took the motor off, looked at it and put it back on. He told us maybe the bolt was loose so thats why it didnt work. Well that wasnt the reason; we found out soon after he left with 170 marks of Wiebkes in his pocket. They get paid 8.50 every 5 minutes and that includes travel time plus tax. He did fuck all. Wiebke explained what the problem was to him and suggested the motor wasnt the problem. I think she told him it was the brains of the machine, but he wasnt interested in their thought. Most of the time he was here, he did nothing. Sorry about sentence order. I should move some around to make a better sentence but I dont want to now. I also may not later just to show how a first draft of writing can be so uncivilized.
by Joanne B. Washington
read on. wombat_part_03
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