Do You Know Why I Can Write?

Do You Know Why I Can Write?

As I think of MM*, am I eloquent. I could talk, write endlessly, welling up as a spring to overflowing. I could tell her, show all the good and all the bad I have, I am, see my inside out.

I could imagine her as real, as warm, as precious, as alive beside me. What do I care of a famous Mona Lisa on canvass, or a cold beautiful statue of marble, or as empty air as fairies, angels are.

Or as a grand piano, just touching her keys and she repays me, gives me back, returns – were it her soul? -, more touching, richer than I ever could imagine, though with my poor ability of playing the piano. And I picture a big scoundrel proudly, unashamed, soiling, hammering on her pure, white keys with his dirty fingers. What a disgrace, affront.

Otherwise, I can’t write, then I have nothing to say, nothing to tell, am I dumb.

What a joy, delight it is to write, talk to her. I dedicate my thoughts to MM, Mein schonster Stern, My little star, My dear little fool.

*Maria Magdalene

March 2013

This is my book. You can read it.

• http://blookup.com/en/blookshop/blook/leisurely-reading-14566/

 

Were God To Read My Thoughts

Were God To Read My Thoughts

“Even were your thoughts, your blog read by God, it wouldn’t become the greater, you boaster.” How clever she was, so said my lover.

And I imagined God took the trouble to read them. Ha. Ha. Besides, He would be very bored, punished, suffering, hearing million prayers and praises every moment already.

March 2013

  

This is my book. You can read it.

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Looking At My Stats

Looking At My Stats

Every time I look at my stats (visitor’s statistics), I gladly, happily, notice their visit again, like seeing tiny honey bees eagerly visiting my tiny flowers every morning.

March 2013

This is my book. You can read it.

• http://blookup.com/en/blookshop/blook/leisurely-reading-14566/

Hansel Und Gretel

Hansel Und Gretel

For days they were together, left alone, not in a forest but in a waste land beneath a tree of a hospital. They were so thin, so small. How they managed to eat, drink and sleep, I don’t know. Every day when on duty in the hospital I took some food and milk for them, How eagerly they ate and drank.

I wish I could take them home but we already had a foundling. But when I decided to take them home, they were gone. I, we all who went together felt bad in the car. Before driving for home we suggested to just try again almost with no hope. How we rejoiced as we found them still there.

I tried to find some one who would take care of them. But when I told them that Hansel is crippled and about Gretel’s itch and asthma they refused to take them, perhaps they’re business people. “What if they couldn’t be sold?” they thought. As I now think I’m so glad that they were rejected, otherwise … What if they took Gretel only or Hansel only. It would be cruel to separate them as they so love each other and always huddle, play, sleep together in my bed.

And I thought of the orphans of wars, brothers and sisters separated from each other or from a mother when taken in families abroad and of slaves in former times when they were captured and sold. Hansel isn’t crippled anymore and walks, runs, jumps on all four, though sees with squinting eyes. Perhaps he’s got a violent beating on his head before and Gretel –she was near death, yet, thanks God, survived, three, four times revived by artificial respiration during a surgery – is a funny, lively creature. I’ll never give them away, even when I have to go abroad.

That’s Upik her story.

 

And this is my recording of them.

Gretel And Her Boyfriend

Gretel was proud having Hansel as her boyfriend. When she peed, it was so funny, she also lifts her hind leg up as Hansel does and she also runs, walked limping imitating him. But I couldn't capture this.

She is so cute. I am lucky to have recorded them. This is the only recording I have of Gretel. Gone now, yet they live forever in You Tube.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CS1M_IjaLz8

February 2009

March 2013

What I Call A Gift

What is a million dollar?

A gift for the poor.

Give me eyes, hands, feet, arms, legs, brains, a voice, health,  peace, joy, love, happiness, …
 your kiss, you stupid little fool.  Ha. Ha.
That’s what I call a gift.

So said Opa Johan to his wife.

I’ll never sell my kiss or my love even for a million dollars. I’ll give it free. But I’m to decide whom I want to grant it to. So said a woman.

Except she has a petty love, or no love at all.

July 2009

March 2013

This is my book. You can read it.

• http://blookup.com/en/blookshop/blook/leisurely-reading-14566/

 

All Are Number One, There's No Second

All Are Number One, There Is No Second

I just heard Bach’s wonderful oratorio "The Matthew Passion".  It is the best, there’s no better. But were I to listen to Haydn’s oratorio "Die Jahreszeiten" then would I also proclaim it as the very best. Which is the best?

And I thought of Elly Ameling, or Jo Vincent singing so wonderfully and I remember a church choir singing a very simple song or Ade’s  solo, so stirring,  I also think it’s the best. How can I choose? Even the simplest songs, sung by unknown artists can be so wonderful.

And I thought of Hans Andersen’s Fairy Tales, O Henry’s short Stories, Rumi’s philosophy, The Mahabharata, Ramayana, The Red Chamber Dream, Multatulli’s Saidja and Adinda, ...

Or durian, or manggiston, or grapes, ...

Or dogs or cats or bats, or squirrels, ...

Or  Sunflowers or Roses, ...

Or Chinese Foods or Indonesian Foods, ...

Or ...

Which should I choose? You can’t compare them as they are   incomparably good. There is no number two, all are number one.

There’s not only one most lovely, dear woman. How can I love only one? Forced to choose only one out of the so many lovely women I love, that’s torture, except I’m a hypocrite, a scoundrel, a liar. Except I’m a pigeon who stays faithful for life.

I could love you all were I had the chance to know you, as me loving music, songs, literature, fruits, foods, creatures, plants, flowers, ... Can I help it? Is that wrong? But you, dear followers, likers, the society, my lover might hate me for having, harboring such thoughts.  

That’s my philosophy which makes me wiser, comforts me.

March 2013 

This is my book. You can read it.

• http://blookup.com/en/blookshop/blook/leisurely-reading-14566/