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May 2006

I don’t love you or so and then I do or whatever

Anyone ever wondered how different three poems with the same motif can be? Well, here are three poems, all talking about the same, yet on the surface about something completely different. :)


hand around your neck wreck
it all colour it black
lilac and then crack
up slash your skin here’s a tack
hang a cow bell round your neck
so you please your mack
don’t hide your breasts in that rag
you’re so well stacked
cut that neck open don’t neck
me don’t smile and brag
any feeling I had for you scallywag
I fear I couldn’t make it sag


they are brown in the dark,
they are green in the sun
anyway this red and I’m gone
it’s coal black at dawn
it’s reddish at sundown
anyway this red and I’ll bow
it is so full of life
it is without a scar
anyway your lips and I might mar


dimples radiating joy of life
rufescent runs of good luck
nether sparkling greenish auburn
some aureate and ivory jewellery
a disarming and beatific smile
but cushion anything sacred
he shouldn’t have seen
walk past the shore of dignity
prune me of consummation’s anguish
hold you hold me
are we longing to coalesce


Sleepless again, so this time I did something more or less productive: I reworked my late-night playlist. Got songs for over three hours now, which should be enough. :)

Anyone wanting to know what I’m now listening to early in the morning / late in the night (depends on your point of view ;)), or any other sleepless geek out there who wants some ideas for his playlist, here’s my list.


Fir ewech, heimat well ech mech net opreegen, ech well meng Lieser just e bessen ameséiren: Zwou kleng Anekdoten fir déi Leit, déi sech froen wéi bürokratesch eng Uni eigentlech kann sin. :)

Fänken mer un mat der Umeldung fir d’zweet Semester op der Uni Lëtzebuerg.
1. Schrett: Et muss een sech op der Uni op engem Computer aloggen a säin Passwuert änneren, dat ee bei der Umeldung krut (wat awer komescherweis kee krut).
2. Schrett: D’Passwuert rausfannen, sech aloggen, d’Passwuert änneren (dat huet mussen Buchstaawen hun, Zifferen an wann ech mech richteg erenneren och een Underscore oder Minus. Bon dat hu meng souwisou emmer, also kee Probleem).
3. Schrett: Formulaire nokcuken op all d’Daten korrekt sin, op “Semestre 2” klicken an dat Ganzt rausdrécken.
4. Schrett: Op d’Uni an den Büro 1 ee gréngen Ziedel (et huet onbedengt missten dee Gréngen sin!) mat engem Stempel sichen goen.
5. Schrett: An den Büro 2 goen, wou een dann een Sticker op d’Studentenkaart gepecht (!) kritt, dass een och am 2. Semester nach op der Uni ass.
6. Schrett: 100€ per VISA (eppes anescht hun se net geholl, och kee Cash) iwwerweisen.

Bei deem Ganzen dierf een elo natirlech net de Feeler maachen wéi ech, dass een als Ignorant direkt an den Büro 2 geet, ouni ze wessen, dass dat den Büro 2 ass an dass et ee Büro 1 gett, well dann gett een vun e puer nerv??sen Leit an den Büro 1 geschéckt, well een jo onbedengt deen gréngen Ziedel mam Stempel brauch.

Dat alles ass awer nix géint d’Umeldungsprozedur fir op eng britesch Uni.

1. Schrett: Et muss een sech bei UCAS umellen fir 6 Unien (méi geet net). Dann muss een sengem Proff bescheed soen, fir dass deen dat Ganzt kann ofschécken (well dat kann een net selwer maachen).
2. Schrett: UCAS seet der Uni bescheed, dass een sech ugemellt huet, schéckt hinnen d’Empfehlungsschreiwen, den Essay firwat een well ausgerechent dat Fach studéiren (sou motivéiert an firun allem originell wéi méiglech, well deen Essay ass entscheedend) an d’Noten vum Premièresexamen. Déi 3 Saachen sin natirlech obligatoresch, wann eppes feelt gett d’Umeldung vun den Unien ignoréiert (ausser natirlech et huet een Resultater vum Examen nach net an gett un dass een déi noschéckt).
3. Schrett: Et kritt ee vu UCAS 6 Bréifer, wou all Kéiers drasteet, dass déi respektiv Uni een hellt oder och net. Ausserdeem stin dann do allkéiers d’Conditiounen dran déi d’Uni engem stellt fir definitiv ugeholl ze gin. (Wann een gudd genuch ass, kann et och sin, dass ee guer keng Conditiounen gestallt kritt, dat Gléck hat ech souguer bei diversen Unien :D).
4. Schrett: No deem 6. Bréif geet een op de Site vu UCAS an den Webinterface “Track”. Do wielt een dann un, op wéi eng Uni een elo well goen.
5. Schrett: Doropshin kritt een e Bréif vun UCAS, dass si der Uni lo gesot hun dass ee kennt. Da muss een ee Formulaire vu UCAS ausfellen, an deen un d’Uni schécken, fir dat anch eemol ze bestätegen.
6. Schrett: Da kritt een vun der Uni ee Bréif geschéckt, dass een demnächst een Bréif vu UCAS kritt.
7. Schrett: Da kritt ee vu UCAS ee Bréif geschéckt, dass een elo definitiv op där Uni ugeholl ass (firausgesat et kritt een d’Conditiounen erfellt, wéi eben zum Beispill déi Leit déi nach mussen d’Resultater vun hierem Examen eraschécken, oder mol nach hiert aktuellt Joër packen).

Domat sin ech ab September dann definitiv op der Uni zu Glamorgan. :) T’war jo och guer net sou schwéier. :)


A lake. It could have been any, but all you longed for was a lake. Perhaps because lakes have always been shining with tranquility, perhaps because as a child you passed so many holidays at lakes, perhaps because any other place you could think of didn’t give you a feeling of comfort.

You had enough of your life, so you simply bought a ticket out. A flight to Canada. The country you always wanted to live in. Going to the Sun. That’s the fitting name of the road you followed to get here. Now you are standing here, mountains around you on three sides, a forest behind you, sand underneath you, blue sky above you, clear water in front of you. There’s a small island a few hundred meters away. You wonder whether you would feel even more liberated there. But then again, you have no boat and swimming there does not seem worth it after all.

Silence. Restfulness. Finally you can draw breath, let your thoughts breathe and your heart calm down. You smell the scent of the sea that reminisces you of your childhood. A feeling of peacefulness streams through your body. At last, you begin to forget the anger, the stress and everything that has been bugging you for so long. That all seems to be part of a different life. You are here, alone, but for the first time in years, you have a feeling of wholeness, about which you wondered so long if it existed at all.

You are neither beset with joy nor any other feeling, positive or negative. You are quiescent, a state so particular that at first, you aren’t even able to name it. Quiescence however does never last and you almost fall into a feeling of sadness. But this lake, this scenery somehow gives you the strength not to give into melancholy or nostalgia that have been haunting you in your old life. No, you wouldn’t let them take away this beautiful moment. This trice is yours alone, an eternity that allows you to escape from the boundaries your old life imposed on you.

You haven’t brought anything with you. You turn around and look at the forest. You sit down and admire this lake with the small island. You lie down and look up to the sky. Yes, this is your secret retreat. And you will never leave it again. Ever.

St Mary Lake, Canada
St Mary Lake / Canada – picture taken by Jon Sullivan

[song of the moment: Breathe me (Six Feet Under Series Finale Version) by Sia]

Pondering over love

Amoris vulnus idem sanat, qui facit.
(= The wounds of love can only be healed by the one who made them).

Sirus Publilius

And think not, you can direct the course of love; for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Khalil Gibran

Essay on “Sprache im 21. Jahrhundert”

Programming languages. English as a world language. Situation of Welsh, Maori and other small linguistic communities. Consequences for English native speakers.
Has to be finished by Monday. I’ve written nine pages so far, still four to go. But first, I need a coffee. Or two. Well, make it three. :) It’s an interesting subject though.

I apologize to all those of you who might be angry that, yet again, I’m not on some IM. “Fuck u…” ;)

Friday Night’s Alright (For Flirting)

So yes, I followed Gilles’ advice and went out to town yesterday evening. First stop: Lester’s. Not really my usual pub, but as the friend with whom I went out absolutely wanted to go there, we made a stopover. There wasn’t anyone noticeable. So we just drank a beer and went on. Never mix alcohol and girls. Damn it. Okay, it was only one beer, not so bad. Then we headed straight for the kebab booth, greasy Turkish food’s always good for dinner. :)

Next bar: Interview. At least, that’s where we wanted to head towards. We walked a slight detour to have enough time to finish our kebab. Close to the Théatre des Capucins, we met a mutual friend of ours, which was quite surprising as she usually never goes out in the capital (she lives in Diekirch and is pretty stuck to that town). She was coming from the parking garage and was looking for the VIP Room. Answer she got? “I’m not sure whether they gonna let you in, dressed like that.” (She obviously was dressed quite smartly). I guess it’s needless to say that words failed her. “But if you absolutely want the humiliation of not being let in, I guess we can bring you there. But don’t blame us afterwards.” She still looked shocked, but she had found back her voice: “You don’t mean that?!”. “We’re gonna find out…”. So “like true gentlemen” we walked her to the VIP Room. Needless to say, she got in without any problem.

[Slight interjection here: She just came online. She apparently had a fun evening, though she told me I hadn’t been nice at all, she’s still confused about my remark on her dress. I’m so sorry I hurt her feelings. :)]

After that, Yves got a call from Gilles. Ah, which Gilles now you ask? Well I actually know seven Gilles if I’m not forgetting anybody… Here is one, here, here, and… (Which is quite funny, I know a Gilles Gloden and a Gilles Glod :)) Well, anyway, back to where I was: Gilles was at the Banana’s with a couple of friends. So we headed there instead of the Inter. We drank a couple of cokes (no mixing of alcohol and girls, remember? ;)) and then decided to go ahead and play some pool. It was quite empty as for what considered nice girls, but about half an hour after we had arrived, a friend of mine came in, Christian. He was accompanied by a friend of his and five girls. One was his friend’s girl, then her sister, Christian’s love interest, and two other friends of them. Yves started flirting with the two girls, I flirted with the sister of Jean’s girlfriend. Let me be a gentleman and call her A. instead of publishing her whole name here. It began to become a really fun evening. We played a round guys vs girls. We won, of course. ;)

I tried some stop & go on A: flirt with her, turn around, ignore her, talk only with the guys. After the second time, she tipped on my shoulder. “Hey, you didn’t hear me out!”. “Didn’t your parents teach you manners? When adults speak, little children have to be quiet”. (She’s three years younger than I). She’s actually quite cute when she pouts, but don’t tell her that. ;)

Fast forward, half an hour later. She’s playing with her hair. “Well that’s a bit sad.” – “What?” – “You combing your hair but having to use your fingers. You know, I’m a generous guy, I’ll give you two euros if you ask nicely so tomorrow you can go and buy a real comb.” Man, I love that “no, you just didn’t!” look. And I actually managed to get it from two different girls during the same evening. :)

Well, don’t wanna bore you people more with my stories. So let’s skip the next one and a half hour. Got her number in the end, but at the moment I’d rather repeat such an evening than start going out only with A. Became quite addicted to that feeling of success. :)

Thanks for the advice Gilles. That was fun. :D

zestful and bland and winsome

my love has always been
just wrote some prose
full stop
it’s finished now
the title was almost the same
the inspiration probably too
i guess it was you
this memory of
you looking into my eyes
question marks
your hazel eyes with a shining
black dot
in each one of them
nature had just painted its
ultimate masterpiece
will see you fair
question marks
when i turned around
with a smile on my face
that became a tear
for the falling sun you had

zestful and bland

it’s not easy to fall out of love with you
when you just keep on being so perfect.
it’s not easy to be concentrated
when you keep on being so desirable.
it’s not easy to forget your face
when it just doesn’t get less pretty.
it’s not easy to forget your eyes
when suns are still exploding therein.
it’s not easy to forget your body
when you won’t stop looking so damn hot.
it’s not easy to prevent melting at your sight
when you wear that red low back, halter-neck gown.
it’s not easy to hate you
when you just keep on being so lovely.

there is this girl who’s played an important role in your life for many years. you love her. maybe you have from the first instant on, although you keep telling yourself that’s probably a cliche you make yourself believe in to glorify your feelings for her. you can remember that special day six years ago, the first time you saw her, in every detail though, may it ever appear so insignificant to an outsider – or to yourself. you bugged your best friend for weeks until he finally told you to do something about it and tell her you love her. it already took you two months to find out her name. the one who finally helped you in finding it didn’t know he was helping you. he didn’t even know the girl himself. you never thanked him. her name translates into truth. and absolute truth she has always been to you.

you were a rationalist. a freak who suppressed feelings of any kind. a freak who started to believe in destiny. you convince yourself that you should know better today. so you try to get rid of the self-contradictory theory that everything is part of a greater plan beyond your understanding. but then you find out life isn’t so random as others told you. the girl’s family and your family are deeply interwoven. your mother once was a friend of her mother, your father once worked with her father. you had no idea that it was one of her family members who once changed your life, probably permanently, until that person told you she was related to her about a year ago. you suddenly remember that, when you were nine years old, you walked past her house twice a week. and you’ve known her far longer than you always thought. when you were seven years old, you saw her for the first time. at a birthday party of a friend who lived next door to her. you ask yourself if there really is no destiny. it’s no trick your mind plays on you. you found pictures in an old album of which you weren’t aware that it existed.

you think back of how, one day, you decided to take the same bus as she did. you walked a few steps ahead of her. you built up all your courage to ask her out. you stopped. you breathed deeply. again. your heart hit your rips so hardly and quickly the pain almost made you faint. you turned around. she walked more slowly than she usually did, maybe so she wouldn’t catch up with you. you asked yourself if that was a good or bad sign. you turned around again and walked home. you promised yourself you’d ask her out next week. just as you did on every friday.

there’s this girl who will play an important role in your life for many years to come. you love her.

[note: no, i’m neither still self-pitying myself nor am i depressed, this is fiction ;) part two (and maybe some explanation) will follow]