Dienstag, 10. März 2009
Melancholie
corbelle, 00:23h
part III
"I told you, that you wouldn´t want to know." she said, whilst her mind was being torn between arrogance and guiltyness.
Questioning herself why having to set things straight she had caused in the first place.
She perched next to the bed, which actually rather was a matress than anything else, her arm gently fumbling over the meanwhile gray sheet.
She looked up to him..there he was, on the bed, his back to the wall, his arms crossed over his tucked up legs.He was glancing into direction of the tv, but due to the darkness which surrounded them, she knew he was staring into nothingness.
A feeling of guilt crawled up her spine,(hah) as if he could protect himelf from the words she said by the way he was sitting.
"I was drunk.", in the very moment these words left her lips she already realized that this couldn´t cause anything, than worsen the situation even more.
...Actually we barely know each other...she tried to convince herself.
All we ever shared were nothing but letters.
~then it rushed to her~
..our souls linked through feelings expressed by words in order not to get swept away by their superiority & power.
Creating a connection which so many people could only long for, if they were holding one of these creepy romans in hand.Written by authors which tried to capture a feeling for them which they never had experienced themselves or even knew about really.This kind of feeling which they will never be abled to understand, this which lets you know that you are right- with everything.
"It was nothing actually." she brought out. His eyes hit her.
Hit her deeply. Hit her deeply throughout.
"What can I say?" Now she had lost.
Fought with all of her power, all of her fate, all of her love she could manage to dig out from her deepest inner. Only for him.
Actually she was done. She had accepted to have fallen for an illusion.
all these darn poets were right. Love~ something you just keep running after, for not being alone.
Progress was vital, life itself.
Then he showed up.
The warm feeling that arose inside of her that very moment got choked in guiltiness at his sight.
Why? Why couldn´t he just leave her alone?
Why he had to drag her into this? Reanimating her feelings.
Feelings, after all, all they actually were good for was pain..latest in the end.
Now he sat there..with her..for her.
Like some kind of ya no masculine god he didn´ßt need to - he was better than that.(I´ll better leave that out but i thought its funny)
But the incredibility of her encounter never let her free.
She´d pulled back over and over again, just to crawl forwards again, towards to him.
Now he stared outside the window... at least he had rested his head to the wall..making the outline look somewhat more comfy overall.
She didn´t know why she had been doing that in the first place.
In the end it was sheer angst, she showed herself so much in these lines. Lost, into him.
Didn´t she had to protect herself? What possibly should she have been doing otherwise(if his words were/d´have been proved wrong) when this rarely taped pink glasses would have been broken again?!?(how selfish)
This way at least she could tell herself not to have left out on anything.
The guy there the other day was just some bloke anyways. Well she knew, she couldn´t just tell him that...he was ..a victim, a tool, nothing more.
And considered from a realistic point of view an approval of her mental poverty.
She sat herself up and took a deep breath.
He was still watching out of the window. Silently. Patient. Almost like a child. Motionless.
Thoughts went on...
Already when she had been touching that guy. She knew she was wrong.."stop me"..that´s what she had told him. Of course that guy didn´t.He was good looking though.. but which guy in this world would have turned down a possibility like this..well she didn´t have to face him now to know.
It only took a second.. a second in which she wanted to forget, flee away from the danger which yet painted out her redemption.....in denial of truth. Just felt great to know what things were about. To engage dive into close emotions, touching, roaming wild, getting touched.But when her hands just started to get a glimpse of the promising path to bliss she suddenly pulled back,got aware, stumbled, almost fell, alas she had done it- touching, engaging in order to forget.
Everything crashed down, she regretted it, ran home, ran away from her doings, yet too late.Now she was there, they were.
"But....I love you."
she looked him in the eye(turning head) which lostitself in hers in the glimpse of a second.. no more window..silencing, pondering heart, fear.
"I have to dash"she said. A little too fast she gathered her belongings.
As she kept running down the steps she thought to herself:"He´ll never love me anyways."
"I told you, that you wouldn´t want to know." she said, whilst her mind was being torn between arrogance and guiltyness.
Questioning herself why having to set things straight she had caused in the first place.
She perched next to the bed, which actually rather was a matress than anything else, her arm gently fumbling over the meanwhile gray sheet.
She looked up to him..there he was, on the bed, his back to the wall, his arms crossed over his tucked up legs.He was glancing into direction of the tv, but due to the darkness which surrounded them, she knew he was staring into nothingness.
A feeling of guilt crawled up her spine,(hah) as if he could protect himelf from the words she said by the way he was sitting.
"I was drunk.", in the very moment these words left her lips she already realized that this couldn´t cause anything, than worsen the situation even more.
...Actually we barely know each other...she tried to convince herself.
All we ever shared were nothing but letters.
~then it rushed to her~
..our souls linked through feelings expressed by words in order not to get swept away by their superiority & power.
Creating a connection which so many people could only long for, if they were holding one of these creepy romans in hand.Written by authors which tried to capture a feeling for them which they never had experienced themselves or even knew about really.This kind of feeling which they will never be abled to understand, this which lets you know that you are right- with everything.
"It was nothing actually." she brought out. His eyes hit her.
Hit her deeply. Hit her deeply throughout.
"What can I say?" Now she had lost.
Fought with all of her power, all of her fate, all of her love she could manage to dig out from her deepest inner. Only for him.
Actually she was done. She had accepted to have fallen for an illusion.
all these darn poets were right. Love~ something you just keep running after, for not being alone.
Progress was vital, life itself.
Then he showed up.
The warm feeling that arose inside of her that very moment got choked in guiltiness at his sight.
Why? Why couldn´t he just leave her alone?
Why he had to drag her into this? Reanimating her feelings.
Feelings, after all, all they actually were good for was pain..latest in the end.
Now he sat there..with her..for her.
Like some kind of ya no masculine god he didn´ßt need to - he was better than that.(I´ll better leave that out but i thought its funny)
But the incredibility of her encounter never let her free.
She´d pulled back over and over again, just to crawl forwards again, towards to him.
Now he stared outside the window... at least he had rested his head to the wall..making the outline look somewhat more comfy overall.
She didn´t know why she had been doing that in the first place.
In the end it was sheer angst, she showed herself so much in these lines. Lost, into him.
Didn´t she had to protect herself? What possibly should she have been doing otherwise(if his words were/d´have been proved wrong) when this rarely taped pink glasses would have been broken again?!?(how selfish)
This way at least she could tell herself not to have left out on anything.
The guy there the other day was just some bloke anyways. Well she knew, she couldn´t just tell him that...he was ..a victim, a tool, nothing more.
And considered from a realistic point of view an approval of her mental poverty.
She sat herself up and took a deep breath.
He was still watching out of the window. Silently. Patient. Almost like a child. Motionless.
Thoughts went on...
Already when she had been touching that guy. She knew she was wrong.."stop me"..that´s what she had told him. Of course that guy didn´t.He was good looking though.. but which guy in this world would have turned down a possibility like this..well she didn´t have to face him now to know.
It only took a second.. a second in which she wanted to forget, flee away from the danger which yet painted out her redemption.....in denial of truth. Just felt great to know what things were about. To engage dive into close emotions, touching, roaming wild, getting touched.But when her hands just started to get a glimpse of the promising path to bliss she suddenly pulled back,got aware, stumbled, almost fell, alas she had done it- touching, engaging in order to forget.
Everything crashed down, she regretted it, ran home, ran away from her doings, yet too late.Now she was there, they were.
"But....I love you."
she looked him in the eye(turning head) which lostitself in hers in the glimpse of a second.. no more window..silencing, pondering heart, fear.
"I have to dash"she said. A little too fast she gathered her belongings.
As she kept running down the steps she thought to herself:"He´ll never love me anyways."
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Melancholie
corbelle, 00:20h
Mittagspause
In dem Moment, wo er die Tür aufschwang, quoll ihm die ganze Luft entgegen. Dick, dicht, muffig und mit dem Geruch der Mäntel durchsetzt, welche von den Anderen dort zum trocknen aufgehängt waren, den Schweiß der Arbeit nun da sie trockneten freigebend, das Fett der Ftritteuse von der letzten Mahlzeit. Ein murmelndes Stimmengewiirr flocht sich durch den Raum, müßige Geschäftigkeit. Wenigstens war es trocken.
Seufzend ließ er sich gleich an den Tisch neben dem Eingang sinken.
Der Mann am Tisch gegenüber faltete kurz seine Augenbrauen zuasammen, musterte ihn kurz um sich dann gleich wieder seiner Zeitung zuzuwenden.
Da kam auch schon Mandy und stellte ihm den heißen Kaffee auf den Tisch, die heiße Masse schwappte durch den Ruck noch einmal am Rand der Tasse hoch, doch nur gerade so weit, dass der Rand der Tasse mit einem kleinen Film bedeckt war. Er lächelte leise.. passte ja; wie ein Versuch auszubrechen, doch zum Scheitern verurteilt.
"Alle Spuren schon verwischt, wwenn ich nur meine Lippen an den Rand setze."
Er nahm einen kräftigen Schluck. Dann entließ seine Hand den Pott wieder auf die Tischplatte. Er starrte hinein, in das tiefe schwarze Schwarz. Keine Gedanken, nur Ruhe.
7 Minuten, die Uhr ist unerbittlich.
Hinaus, an die Arbeit, hinaus in den Tod, schuften und ächzen, für.. nur damit man am nächsten Tag wieder hier sitzen kann, Kaffee trinken, pah.
Mandy wieder einem nen Kaffe auf den Tisch stellt.
Doch, das war es wert. All die Anstrengung, all die Arbeit.
Für diesen kurzen Moment, in dem die Weiblichkeit ihm einen kurzen Sonnenstrahl schenkte.
In dem Moment, wo er die Tür aufschwang, quoll ihm die ganze Luft entgegen. Dick, dicht, muffig und mit dem Geruch der Mäntel durchsetzt, welche von den Anderen dort zum trocknen aufgehängt waren, den Schweiß der Arbeit nun da sie trockneten freigebend, das Fett der Ftritteuse von der letzten Mahlzeit. Ein murmelndes Stimmengewiirr flocht sich durch den Raum, müßige Geschäftigkeit. Wenigstens war es trocken.
Seufzend ließ er sich gleich an den Tisch neben dem Eingang sinken.
Der Mann am Tisch gegenüber faltete kurz seine Augenbrauen zuasammen, musterte ihn kurz um sich dann gleich wieder seiner Zeitung zuzuwenden.
Da kam auch schon Mandy und stellte ihm den heißen Kaffee auf den Tisch, die heiße Masse schwappte durch den Ruck noch einmal am Rand der Tasse hoch, doch nur gerade so weit, dass der Rand der Tasse mit einem kleinen Film bedeckt war. Er lächelte leise.. passte ja; wie ein Versuch auszubrechen, doch zum Scheitern verurteilt.
"Alle Spuren schon verwischt, wwenn ich nur meine Lippen an den Rand setze."
Er nahm einen kräftigen Schluck. Dann entließ seine Hand den Pott wieder auf die Tischplatte. Er starrte hinein, in das tiefe schwarze Schwarz. Keine Gedanken, nur Ruhe.
7 Minuten, die Uhr ist unerbittlich.
Hinaus, an die Arbeit, hinaus in den Tod, schuften und ächzen, für.. nur damit man am nächsten Tag wieder hier sitzen kann, Kaffee trinken, pah.
Mandy wieder einem nen Kaffe auf den Tisch stellt.
Doch, das war es wert. All die Anstrengung, all die Arbeit.
Für diesen kurzen Moment, in dem die Weiblichkeit ihm einen kurzen Sonnenstrahl schenkte.
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Was soll das?
corbelle, 00:03h
Der black-box Blog soll der Vorläufer zu einer späteren Onlinezeitung werden. Je nachdem wie sich unsere Qualitäten hier entwickeln wird das entsprechend länger, oder auch kürzer dauern.
Unser Hauptanliegen ist Bildung angenehm zu machen.
Das sieht dann so aus, das es hier Beiträge zum aktuellen Tagesgeschehen geben wird, auch zur Politik, Wissenschaft, soziologisch gesellschaftlichen Themen und alles was uns sonst noch so wichtig erscheint. Verständlich und möglichst unterhaltsam geschrieben und dennoch seriös.
Damit bei dem ganzen der Spaß nicht zu kurz kommt gibt es noch extra Unterteilungen, zum Beispiel der Kunstbereich, hier werden Künstler jeglicher Art vorgestellt. Ob aus dem bereich Fotografie, Musik, Sport Malerei... alles ist möglich.
(wenn ihr noch unbekannte Künstler kennt, die unbedingt mal vorgestellt werden sollten, dann schreibt uns)
dann wär da noch: die Spielwiese.
Hier geht es um alles was Spaß macht, ungewöhnlich Vorkommnisse, Dinge von denen man noch nie gehört hat und die man vielleicht auch gleich wieder vergessen will, unnützes Wissen, was einem vielleicht doch noch mal das Leben retten wird und was uns sonst noch einfällt.
Prosaecke: unterteilt in Positives und Negatives, der Name sagts ja schon, je nachdem in welche Stimmung man grade schwelgen will, Melancholie kann mitunter sehr erfrischend wirken.
Oder man lässt sich in einem tief durch inspirierende texte wieder aufheitern.
(auch hier könnt ihr selbst mitmachen, indem ihr uns Texte zuschickt- nur Mut)
so, jetzt erstmal genug gequatscht, los gehts..
Unser Hauptanliegen ist Bildung angenehm zu machen.
Das sieht dann so aus, das es hier Beiträge zum aktuellen Tagesgeschehen geben wird, auch zur Politik, Wissenschaft, soziologisch gesellschaftlichen Themen und alles was uns sonst noch so wichtig erscheint. Verständlich und möglichst unterhaltsam geschrieben und dennoch seriös.
Damit bei dem ganzen der Spaß nicht zu kurz kommt gibt es noch extra Unterteilungen, zum Beispiel der Kunstbereich, hier werden Künstler jeglicher Art vorgestellt. Ob aus dem bereich Fotografie, Musik, Sport Malerei... alles ist möglich.
(wenn ihr noch unbekannte Künstler kennt, die unbedingt mal vorgestellt werden sollten, dann schreibt uns)
dann wär da noch: die Spielwiese.
Hier geht es um alles was Spaß macht, ungewöhnlich Vorkommnisse, Dinge von denen man noch nie gehört hat und die man vielleicht auch gleich wieder vergessen will, unnützes Wissen, was einem vielleicht doch noch mal das Leben retten wird und was uns sonst noch einfällt.
Prosaecke: unterteilt in Positives und Negatives, der Name sagts ja schon, je nachdem in welche Stimmung man grade schwelgen will, Melancholie kann mitunter sehr erfrischend wirken.
Oder man lässt sich in einem tief durch inspirierende texte wieder aufheitern.
(auch hier könnt ihr selbst mitmachen, indem ihr uns Texte zuschickt- nur Mut)
so, jetzt erstmal genug gequatscht, los gehts..
... link
