journeying inward

I am on the path; but I am lost. I am seeking wisdom; but I am a fool. I am lonely; but I seek solitude. I have regrets; but I know I can’t go back.

I was fired from my job for plagiarizing which has put the heat on a little in terms of finding a job and brings into question how long I can stay here. It is really quite difficult to find work; however, I am learning German and enrolled myself in a TESOL course, which should enable me to become a teacher in English.

I joined a Bikram’s yoga studio which is good for my back and my wellbeing. I have been having back problems since I put it out at the gym recently. The class is in German but I find it easy enough to the class, as it’s always the same.

Monday night(last week) I went to the legendary ‘Bar 25’ of marathon-sessions fame. After queueing for about an hour, I paid ten euros in and the place was shut down by the cops. It is kind of like a miniature Burning man, all outdoors, wooden sets and stages and 19^th century carnival equipment, much like the opening scenes of Lynch’s Elephant Man. Everybody was on drugs which doesn’t appeal to me so much. I sat by fire on the sand and it felt good to look into the flame and feel its warmth in the middle of the cool night. And remember, this is all in a nightclub, in the middle of the city! Small wonder that people never leave.

The ‘Dazzler’ , Darren Harrisson, who I am replacing in the apartment, whose stints at Bar 25 have passed into the realm of folklore and myth, bade his farewell to Berlin. He makes his way back to Ireland for a tough grind of nine to five after two and a half years of escape. Taking acid on his last day, he unwittedly left behind a discreet envelope containing 10,000 euros in purple 500 euro notes.  I feel that in some way this incident sums up the madness of Berlin.

I went to the Mauerpark today, with Essi, a friend I have made, who turns 21 tomorrow. She’s very fond of wearing men’s blazer’s, and at the renowned Flomarkt ,(flea-market) which is a veritable makeshift city every Sunday in the park of all manner of hawkers and hipsters alike selling handmade jewellerey, bicycle locks, and recycled fashion items to name but a few, I purchased a girl’s t-shirt of Kate Moss in drag, for myself, so I guess we’re a match. It was a delight to stroll through the throng, in its beautiful phantasmagoria of every creed and colour of being on earth on display. So much variance in dress, so many exciting idiosyncracies, so colorful and eclectic the crowd assembled there. Such vibrant and genuine individualism gives one a sense of freedom.

 It was sunny and children played Frisbee in the park and I found myself looking at fathers with their children and wondering why the hell I amn’t back in Colorado with Sam? But time will reveal why. I learned this week of a deadline – in order to keep my Green Card active, I’ll need to return to America within a year. So there is time-frame for all tat can be seen and done here.

I’ve sent out query letters to a few literary agents, along with a portion of my book. It feels exciting to do this. I finally have a book, something solid, a real manifestation of my creative expression. But it’s odd in that I didn’t expect to feel this way about it, now that it is finished. To be seeking, having a goal, means not finding. To have found something and to be still means not having a goal.

I just came back from Stueart’s performance in Murray Shisgal’s ‘The Tiger.’ He did a great job, and I enjoyed the play, something I can rarely say for theater, primarily because I hardly ever go. But in another plus for this city, the oddly quiet and introspective Stu has found a great outlet in the zany persona of Ben, and performed tremendously. People here find a way to express themselves and it’s without any expectation of the outcome that they do it. They are genuinely motivated to produce, to create, to express.

Tuesday night I attended a raw-foods event, where ‘sun burgers’ – a slice of tomato, aioli, and iceberg lettuce served on a dense multi-grain flatbread – were served, and I promptly ducked out of the party to down a doner kebab with Essi. I think we may have been the only people at the party who weren’t starving. The company was fantastic though, and the art, the music, the space  itself – spacious basement of exposed brick, high ceilings, curtains segmenting one section of the venue from another, intimate, colonnaded alcoves and luxurious couches and armchairs with a mix of low and high-key lighting, all tastefully arranged to perfection. The party lasted long into the night and yet again I’m amazed at how respectable people, such as Eike, the urban planning engineer I met, think nothing of socializing until one and calmly arriving for work at eight. I don’t think Berliners are too enamoured by sleep.

For myself, I’m finding that the mornings are a difficult period for me – difficult to motivate myself to get up early and attack the day with a lust for life in the dark and grim apartment space – but in a way I have come to accept the difficulty of these mornings as just a part of life – and that’s all they are. This city has a soul, a beautiful one, and walking the tender nights I feel that it’s up to me to make the most of it – and I’m doing just that.