Curiouser and Curiouser

Living in Berlin, I often feel I have fallen down the rabbit hole. Last night, after a perfectly sensible evening of homemade shepherd’s pie and German homework with a friend, I attended a composer’s birthday party in the emerging area of Neukölln. I was also invited to a fashion show at the Martin Gropius Bau, and a burlesque/ laser tag evening at the Planetarium, but I had RSVP’d, and I am punctilious in keeping my word…. most of the time. In truth, I often don’t go to parties, preferring as I do to cocoon and drink tea in silence, but I felt that in this case I felt I should make an effort, not only because I think I should expand my horizons, but because I need a new place to stay. You never know who you might encounter…

There seem to be two constants in Berlin: parties and moving, and if you think about it, perhaps this is what life is about anyway. Oh, I should apologize for being so deep so soon. In writing, as in relationships, they always say you should wait to reveal. But I have been writing poetry of late, and poetry has a way of infusing meaning into everything, which is useful, and in fact why poetry exists, but quite annoying when trying to do anything which requires split-second decision making…like buying stamps or crossing the street. Should I go? Should I stay? If I go now, will I get run over? Is crossing the street a metaphor for life?

See, there I go again.

Now I have committed the second cardinal sin in writing: going off topic. I wonder why these things are so important; being topical - skimming the surface until you are sure the reader/object of your affection (and are they not one and the same?) has been lured into your trap. I think it is all about control, which is what most things are about anyway. Parties, moving, control. What else is there?

Oh yes - there is having coffee in the Literaturhaus on the Fasanenstrasse with someone perfectly lovely -- one of those afternoons when you plan to meet for an hour and then notice it is getting dark. You wonder where all the time went, forget about crossing the street….even about control. You begin to think life can be about poetry after all.

Now that’s on topic….