i like to meet and talk to people in berlin, that were born in berlin and want to die here.
last night i found out that berlin's nickname is also called "little paris". when i asked Mélanie, if she wants to die in berlin, she said "I don't think I want to die here, but I think I want to at least try to get German citizenship before I leave. This way I can come back anytime - here or anywhere else in Europe." she has been working in berlin as a translator for 8 years. will new berlin be the old paris. last night he mention "little paris" with a sense of pride, and a hint of nostalgia. i want to ask wolfgang kohlhasses that same question, why are you in berlin? i wonder how he will answer it.
last weekend in leipzig, bettina told me how wondering it is to have so many old buildings. the buildings are used to screen films, as dance halls, places of social interaction and so on. she does not like berlin, because it is not the same in berlin for her, those buildings are not lived spaces, they are commercial. last night i mentioned the photo exhibit by atget to mr. "little paris", and asked him about the reconstruction of berlin after the 50's. the sense pride in him, turns into mixed of nostalgia and questions never asked before. how long will berlin exist as "little paris", until it fades away like paris, like, rome? then becoming a musuem of itself?
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when berliners ask me why i am in berlin, i tell them that i am a student at humboltd and am studying berlin and cinema, and the historical interaction between the two. they are the not interested until i tell them that i want to write a poem in german. then i tell them about ingeborg bachamnn, maybe then about brecht, celan, trakl, rilke, and so on. and from there it goes on... the people that i have met in berlin have treated me very well, and the poem will be for them, as well as for myself.
i hope i can complete it, i have been learning german for a month now, and it takes me half an hour to write one paragraph. from now on i will try to write in german as much as i can.
the poem will be written all in german, it will be worked out in my head, it will not be written down in english. i will work it out in german.
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bettina got mad at me last week, she said if i want to learn german, why am i living with americans? i agree with. if i live in berlin, i should live with berliners, not the tourist and sojourners. i would also like to meet people many immigrants like my father, who worked and bled into the land so much that it is apart of him. where will he die? danke schoen.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
distance for nearness - memory for forgetfulness
i like jaana, she is half estonian and half armenian. she grew up in estonia, and considers herself estonian. and if that is the case why does she have the initiative to declare herself armenian in front of the turkish people? is it because she still identifies herself as armenian...?
i want to explore the relationship other people have with their own past and how that creates situations that an individual identifies with. i try to distance myself from my own personal haunting memories, and learn from other, and maybe that will give me guidance to deal with my own ghosts.
when i said the poem was going to be about kumi, i meant it somewhat jokingly. the poem will be about my mother, who died when i was a baby. the poem will then be about my relationship with women.
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i didn't find out my mother's name or the cause of her death until i was 18 and had to fill out my college application which asked for my mother's name. what does her absence mean and how does it stay present? how can i confront and accept her? what does her memory mean to me? i am figuring myself thought these unanswered questions. when i was a child, i cried my myself to sleep constantly and woke up with a salty aftertaste. one dream that is still vivid is of her, standing on a pendulum with a blade attached to the bottom swinging back and forth, and i am situated in the middle where the blade is inching towards me moment by moment. she is large, dress in white and i am couched in the infant position, very small.
i know that her memory is still very strong in me. my father hides her from me.
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i read an article a few days ago by Ursula Duba, relating the experience of teaching the holocaust to germans, "the German students at these schools responded with sullen anger" and "several students exclaimed, 'If it wasn't for people like you spreading all this sh--, we wouldn't be mistreated by the rest of the world!'" i can relate to the german students. because even thought i don't remember any lived experience with my mother, i am reminded of her death quite often. everytime i see a mother and child, everytime i... alle tage.
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in "auf der andersen seite", there is a scene with the german mother and the turkish girl in the kitchen, the mother says that when turkey joins the EU everything will be fine for the turkish people. the girl than angrily replies and explains why she is in germany to escape political persecution.
"To this day, Turkey denies that there was an Armenian genocide. Japan still mostly clings to silence in regards to its history of horrific war crimes. The horrors of the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia have yet to be prosecuted. And the recent genocide in Rwanda is already experiencing revisionism among many Hutus in that country."
-Ursula Duba
in "snow" by orphan pamuk, there is a but a few lines about how the armenian genocide, and it caused quite a scandal.
in germany there is an significant number of turkish people seeking a future in germany. how does the german treat the turkish people? does the past hinder of present?
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mother, what have you been doing all of these years? i would like to see you again and talk to you. or maybe not since you are dead. where is pooh.
i want to explore the relationship other people have with their own past and how that creates situations that an individual identifies with. i try to distance myself from my own personal haunting memories, and learn from other, and maybe that will give me guidance to deal with my own ghosts.
when i said the poem was going to be about kumi, i meant it somewhat jokingly. the poem will be about my mother, who died when i was a baby. the poem will then be about my relationship with women.
-
i didn't find out my mother's name or the cause of her death until i was 18 and had to fill out my college application which asked for my mother's name. what does her absence mean and how does it stay present? how can i confront and accept her? what does her memory mean to me? i am figuring myself thought these unanswered questions. when i was a child, i cried my myself to sleep constantly and woke up with a salty aftertaste. one dream that is still vivid is of her, standing on a pendulum with a blade attached to the bottom swinging back and forth, and i am situated in the middle where the blade is inching towards me moment by moment. she is large, dress in white and i am couched in the infant position, very small.
i know that her memory is still very strong in me. my father hides her from me.
-
i read an article a few days ago by Ursula Duba, relating the experience of teaching the holocaust to germans, "the German students at these schools responded with sullen anger" and "several students exclaimed, 'If it wasn't for people like you spreading all this sh--, we wouldn't be mistreated by the rest of the world!'" i can relate to the german students. because even thought i don't remember any lived experience with my mother, i am reminded of her death quite often. everytime i see a mother and child, everytime i... alle tage.
-
in "auf der andersen seite", there is a scene with the german mother and the turkish girl in the kitchen, the mother says that when turkey joins the EU everything will be fine for the turkish people. the girl than angrily replies and explains why she is in germany to escape political persecution.
"To this day, Turkey denies that there was an Armenian genocide. Japan still mostly clings to silence in regards to its history of horrific war crimes. The horrors of the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia have yet to be prosecuted. And the recent genocide in Rwanda is already experiencing revisionism among many Hutus in that country."
-Ursula Duba
in "snow" by orphan pamuk, there is a but a few lines about how the armenian genocide, and it caused quite a scandal.
in germany there is an significant number of turkish people seeking a future in germany. how does the german treat the turkish people? does the past hinder of present?
-
mother, what have you been doing all of these years? i would like to see you again and talk to you. or maybe not since you are dead. where is pooh.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
explaining my blog
i know that my blog may not be an usual production journal, so i will explain a few things. my part of the movie our group is making will be showing me write a poem in german, simple. my first blog is about what the poem will about, kumi. all of the others blogs will be me trying to explore memory. my poem will be about my how to deal with the memories of my mother. i will try to be as concrete as possible without over-explaning. i use the blog more as an exploration of ideas, rather than to set examples out. for me it is a ongoing process, not an ending.
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one major influence i have is 'Salman, the solitary' by Yashar Kemal. in the book he explores the war from the prespective of the turkish people who's lives were destroyed. and he does it without directly mentioning the armenian genocide, and many people who will the book will be affect by the content, without knowing the context. do the german have a book like Shizuko Go's "Requiem"? what is a victim? a movie that i like is "devil on the doorsteps" by Wen Jiang, it deals with the historical past in an very mature way. it is lays out its own wounds and mistakes, weaknesses, not just the historical enemy, like many movies about war.
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i am learning from Kemal, how to deal with my our troubled past, and i hope maybe that will create a ripple effect. will i be able to express myself well enough so that people can share my experience?
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one major influence i have is 'Salman, the solitary' by Yashar Kemal. in the book he explores the war from the prespective of the turkish people who's lives were destroyed. and he does it without directly mentioning the armenian genocide, and many people who will the book will be affect by the content, without knowing the context. do the german have a book like Shizuko Go's "Requiem"? what is a victim? a movie that i like is "devil on the doorsteps" by Wen Jiang, it deals with the historical past in an very mature way. it is lays out its own wounds and mistakes, weaknesses, not just the historical enemy, like many movies about war.
-
i am learning from Kemal, how to deal with my our troubled past, and i hope maybe that will create a ripple effect. will i be able to express myself well enough so that people can share my experience?
Sunday, October 7, 2007
to live
for the last week, we, spent most of our time going to the market to get pots, knives, spices, and many other pantry items. i, alone, have spend close to 200 euro. we were trying make for myself a home in berlin. how is it feasible to live in berlin?
Franziska membership's name is "ITDONTFEELLIKEHOMETOME", sometimes i don't feel like home to me. i haven't gotten a chance to talk to her about living in berlin. Chiara grew up in berlin, and when i asked her why she is leaving berlin to teach deaf children in Israel, she gave me the same reasons i left seattle, it is a cold city. ed simplified SID for me. he and said that seattle is the suicide capital due to seasonal induced suicide? i can imagine being crushed under the clouds, and lost trying to find my shadow is on a gray day, lost and seeming to disappear.
i met a girl last night, who's name i probably would not remembered, or even have known, but luckily her name and number is still on the card in front of me. i would like to see her again and cook dinner for us. when we walked around, i saw the scars on her arm, and made sure to soften them when i got the chance. i tried not to be noticeable sentimental. she turned away from me in the morning and tried to hurriedly leave. i wanted her to remember later, even if she doesn't remember last night. last night is the only night so far, but it will not be the last. i walked her home in the morning and we talked, she taught me a little german. her name is janine and she has three beautiful freckles and eine nossal, lippa, sinie, und eine gross lahaine.
jaana is from estonia, also lives in berlin, and she loves berlin. she has been here 1 and half years, and needs to work on her german. great men live in paris, but never die there, so what about berlin? i wonder where jaana will die. joel was talking to jaana for a couple of hours last night, and i offer to give joel jaana's number and e-mail, and he decline, then accepted, and when we got home, he again declined.
chiara says that she admires the turkish people, for their livelihood and feels disturbed by their arranged marriage tradition. jaana says that when her little sister was in turkey, she didn't see as much women wearing traditional scarves in Istanbul as in Berlin (pardon my ignorance on the proper naming of the scrave, i did look it up, but got lost once again). jaana when she gets very drunk, tries to start a fight with the turkish people, she defiantly declares that she is an Armenian. the turkish people respond by smiling, providing her with hospitality, her new home is in kreuzberg and she loves it. she does not know how to feel about living in kreuzberg. jaana also admires how the strong, close, and warm the turkish culture is and continues to grow.
hilter declared that, no one will remember the Jews in 50 years, because no one remembers the Armenians. for me it is not difficult to imagine nuclear war eclipsing WWII.
joel said that there was no great wars left for our anyone anymore we can't be cool like our grandpa. he wants to do something amazing like walk from north to south korea, das ist der hammer. i think that everyday you are at war (and so does joel), epecially during peace time. i gave him "alle tage" by ingeborg bachmann to read. it is the war we fight alle tage with our daily difficult, and what we losers continue to challenge. i do not know much about anything. the most i can do is try to be a friend instead of being indifferent. i have much to learn about kreuzberg and will repeatedly visit the turkish market instead of doner kebops shops. for now the only way i know how to live is that, i cannot rest until i deserve to die.
Franziska membership's name is "ITDONTFEELLIKEHOMETOME", sometimes i don't feel like home to me. i haven't gotten a chance to talk to her about living in berlin. Chiara grew up in berlin, and when i asked her why she is leaving berlin to teach deaf children in Israel, she gave me the same reasons i left seattle, it is a cold city. ed simplified SID for me. he and said that seattle is the suicide capital due to seasonal induced suicide? i can imagine being crushed under the clouds, and lost trying to find my shadow is on a gray day, lost and seeming to disappear.
i met a girl last night, who's name i probably would not remembered, or even have known, but luckily her name and number is still on the card in front of me. i would like to see her again and cook dinner for us. when we walked around, i saw the scars on her arm, and made sure to soften them when i got the chance. i tried not to be noticeable sentimental. she turned away from me in the morning and tried to hurriedly leave. i wanted her to remember later, even if she doesn't remember last night. last night is the only night so far, but it will not be the last. i walked her home in the morning and we talked, she taught me a little german. her name is janine and she has three beautiful freckles and eine nossal, lippa, sinie, und eine gross lahaine.
jaana is from estonia, also lives in berlin, and she loves berlin. she has been here 1 and half years, and needs to work on her german. great men live in paris, but never die there, so what about berlin? i wonder where jaana will die. joel was talking to jaana for a couple of hours last night, and i offer to give joel jaana's number and e-mail, and he decline, then accepted, and when we got home, he again declined.
chiara says that she admires the turkish people, for their livelihood and feels disturbed by their arranged marriage tradition. jaana says that when her little sister was in turkey, she didn't see as much women wearing traditional scarves in Istanbul as in Berlin (pardon my ignorance on the proper naming of the scrave, i did look it up, but got lost once again). jaana when she gets very drunk, tries to start a fight with the turkish people, she defiantly declares that she is an Armenian. the turkish people respond by smiling, providing her with hospitality, her new home is in kreuzberg and she loves it. she does not know how to feel about living in kreuzberg. jaana also admires how the strong, close, and warm the turkish culture is and continues to grow.
hilter declared that, no one will remember the Jews in 50 years, because no one remembers the Armenians. for me it is not difficult to imagine nuclear war eclipsing WWII.
joel said that there was no great wars left for our anyone anymore we can't be cool like our grandpa. he wants to do something amazing like walk from north to south korea, das ist der hammer. i think that everyday you are at war (and so does joel), epecially during peace time. i gave him "alle tage" by ingeborg bachmann to read. it is the war we fight alle tage with our daily difficult, and what we losers continue to challenge. i do not know much about anything. the most i can do is try to be a friend instead of being indifferent. i have much to learn about kreuzberg and will repeatedly visit the turkish market instead of doner kebops shops. for now the only way i know how to live is that, i cannot rest until i deserve to die.
Friday, October 5, 2007
wind will carry us
when i first came to berlin, the first thing that caught my attention was when i was walked aimlessly around and got lost further and further away. and there it appeared in big graffiti letters, "THIS IS NOT AMERICA".
i felt home. and for the next few days i walked a minimum of 6 hours a day to conitue to explore.
later that same day i meet my first berliners and now friends, simon and markus. we talked about biking, critical mass, played frisbee, and they showed me and told me about their neighborhood. the next day, we went to a hardcore german punk rock show, and i marshed with the rest of them, and got to play drums on stage. simon did not marsh but i got markus to come into the pit. we were cursed at, had beer poured onto us, and continually knocked around. luckily i came out with only a twisted ankle, a ruined shirt, and a swollen neck. i couldn't sleep the next few days and my fravorite shirt is ruined. the lead to the punk band came up to me after the show and thank me personal for my enthusiasm, along with many other random punk rockers. this not a bad way to start my journey in berlin. it makes me happy.
it makes me made mad when people watch and violently push me in the circle and find excitement from that. what pleasure is derived from being behind the screen and not have to worry about any consequence. ungrateful bastards all of them. so what we did inside the circle was, we braced ourself together, we hugged eached. then we sprung around in circle and pushed the pushers back, we let the wind carry us and hopefully one day they will too.
markus and simon have been kind and considerate, very hospitable. they spent considerate time and explained to me all about their neighborhood, and showed their loved for berlin, their home. when i went to simon's house, he served me water from a bottle, when he was sick and drank water from the faucet. he let me borrow his bike for critical mass, and i have had it for over a week and a half.
when i went to critical mass, there were four police vans packed with the polizei. the polizei came to us and asked if we were there for critical mass, the older man played dumb and returned with a question. "what critical mass is?", and we followed his routine example. the man seems to be having fun, the polizei very pissed. the current german polizei has learnt a lot from the stasi, and the old men from the east german people. only a few people met at the main street, and after an hour we then pretended to leave and went our seperate ways, but actually made a rendezvous at the park. the other folks were waiting for us. i felt like we were on a secret operation. we then road in the street and blocked all traffic, heading towards mitte in pouring rain. i came home drench in mud.
i felt home. and for the next few days i walked a minimum of 6 hours a day to conitue to explore.
later that same day i meet my first berliners and now friends, simon and markus. we talked about biking, critical mass, played frisbee, and they showed me and told me about their neighborhood. the next day, we went to a hardcore german punk rock show, and i marshed with the rest of them, and got to play drums on stage. simon did not marsh but i got markus to come into the pit. we were cursed at, had beer poured onto us, and continually knocked around. luckily i came out with only a twisted ankle, a ruined shirt, and a swollen neck. i couldn't sleep the next few days and my fravorite shirt is ruined. the lead to the punk band came up to me after the show and thank me personal for my enthusiasm, along with many other random punk rockers. this not a bad way to start my journey in berlin. it makes me happy.
it makes me made mad when people watch and violently push me in the circle and find excitement from that. what pleasure is derived from being behind the screen and not have to worry about any consequence. ungrateful bastards all of them. so what we did inside the circle was, we braced ourself together, we hugged eached. then we sprung around in circle and pushed the pushers back, we let the wind carry us and hopefully one day they will too.
markus and simon have been kind and considerate, very hospitable. they spent considerate time and explained to me all about their neighborhood, and showed their loved for berlin, their home. when i went to simon's house, he served me water from a bottle, when he was sick and drank water from the faucet. he let me borrow his bike for critical mass, and i have had it for over a week and a half.
when i went to critical mass, there were four police vans packed with the polizei. the polizei came to us and asked if we were there for critical mass, the older man played dumb and returned with a question. "what critical mass is?", and we followed his routine example. the man seems to be having fun, the polizei very pissed. the current german polizei has learnt a lot from the stasi, and the old men from the east german people. only a few people met at the main street, and after an hour we then pretended to leave and went our seperate ways, but actually made a rendezvous at the park. the other folks were waiting for us. i felt like we were on a secret operation. we then road in the street and blocked all traffic, heading towards mitte in pouring rain. i came home drench in mud.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
how does it feel to be a memory
i went with danny to daemond's house a while back for a poetry workshop. the prop that daemond came up with is to write about an old woman confronting the death of her husband, and having to confront it again. one of the lines, i came up with is "how does it feel like a memory", which they both liked very much. it was one of the only poetry workshop i have ever been to, and one of the few times in my life that i tried to write a poem. daemond is now married, i was at his wedding three days before boarding the plane to berlin, danny is touring the us.
two questions that i asked many people in our group are
"why did you come to berlin" and "what do you expect to do in berlin".
when i was asked that question, i answered that my quest was to marry a smart, rich beautiful, loving european woman, get eu citizenship. truth is, i want to move to virginia and marry heather pooh. chessa said that the reason i can't have a good relationship is that pooh bear is kumi. pooh bear is not kumi, pooh bear is pooh bear. i have many memories of both pooh bear and kumi, but i sleep with pooh bear every night, not kumi. i rarely ever think about kumi, although i am constantly reminded of her, as when i walked around see all the bears in berlin, and of how happy she'll be to see those bears, especially the bronze statue with a dozen bears playing with each other. i wonder how pooh bear feels about it, he was excited at first, but now is hesitant to answer. chessa asked me why i am not with kumi, and i asked chessa to go out with me. and we walked around a little bit, but not much more, she has gone to amsterdam.
(ed is sitting next to me, and he is playing ipod and remembering when he first got it, because memory is in the object.)
if you are a memory kumi, where do you exist? pooh is too much of pooh to be you.
i do not know why i am in berlin, the decision was based on a whim, and as to what i plan to do, i want to write a poem, and maybe dedicate it to you-
two questions that i asked many people in our group are
"why did you come to berlin" and "what do you expect to do in berlin".
when i was asked that question, i answered that my quest was to marry a smart, rich beautiful, loving european woman, get eu citizenship. truth is, i want to move to virginia and marry heather pooh. chessa said that the reason i can't have a good relationship is that pooh bear is kumi. pooh bear is not kumi, pooh bear is pooh bear. i have many memories of both pooh bear and kumi, but i sleep with pooh bear every night, not kumi. i rarely ever think about kumi, although i am constantly reminded of her, as when i walked around see all the bears in berlin, and of how happy she'll be to see those bears, especially the bronze statue with a dozen bears playing with each other. i wonder how pooh bear feels about it, he was excited at first, but now is hesitant to answer. chessa asked me why i am not with kumi, and i asked chessa to go out with me. and we walked around a little bit, but not much more, she has gone to amsterdam.
(ed is sitting next to me, and he is playing ipod and remembering when he first got it, because memory is in the object.)
if you are a memory kumi, where do you exist? pooh is too much of pooh to be you.
i do not know why i am in berlin, the decision was based on a whim, and as to what i plan to do, i want to write a poem, and maybe dedicate it to you-
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