insomnia
my first brunch invitation
no sleep at all
a random web identity
...its the third week of not being able to sleep.
i keep myself awake with listening to all the tunes that make me feel quite blue......tiefblau.
interests:
words, dancing, eyes, movies, art, food/cooking, music, traveling, nature, people, pressure & strength, languages, peaches (fruits & artist) visual & aesthetical phenomenons, learning, unexpected make up, snowboarding, politics, FLUCTUATING BODIES, olive oil e.v., self-portraits, the exaggerated (camp, flamboyancy, burlesque, harajuku...), the subtle (looks, wordplays, silence, humour, unrealized beauty...), fashion design, los angeles/berkeley/sometimes: san francisco, sweat, outdoors: hiking, running, biking, strawberry fields / indoors: pilates, yoga, kitchen marathons, strawberry jam; wine, defiance, singing (although i rarely let people know), fog, poached eggs with spinach and nutmeg, laughter, sun on unclothed skin, theories & philosophy, twilight, proper coffee, three colors: black/mauve/petrol, tokyo, crying, consciousness & responsibility for this planet and its people, sticky leather seats on shaking buses somewhere between thailand and bolivia, aspiration, extensive brunching, thinking about the metaphysics of 'water' can drive me insane, intensity, walking (cities, forests, hills, deserts), borderline experiences, cold rivers & hot bathtubs, inspiring odors, scarfs and scars, dust,...
bodies - a transitional moment in time. my shifting desire: needing to feel it under extreme circumstances or wishing to get rid of it. [regardless of the first, recently discussed w/ R as more spicy than sweet...]: why this concentration on a physical coincidence? i totally disclaim any reference to a yet vivid, but still culturally constructed appearance. beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and not a quality to build an identity upon.
...you wanna refer to any particular part of my body? - enjoy the image, but don't bother me with your superficial comments. you think i am a nice soul? - i start listening to you. you refer to my writing? - i move a bit closer. you think i have a glowing personality? - tell me more about it. you have the feeling i'm not stupid? - you won my heart.
interests:
words, dancing, eyes, movies, art, food/cooking, music, traveling, nature, people, pressure & strength, languages, peaches (fruits & artist) visual & aesthetical phenomenons, learning, unexpected make up, snowboarding, politics, fluctuating bodies, olive oil e.v., self-portraits, the exaggerated (camp, flamboyancy, burlesque, harajuku...), the subtle (looks, wordplays, silence, humour, unrealized beauty...), fashion design, los angeles/berkeley/sometimes: san francisco, sweat, outdoors: hiking, running, biking, strawberry fields / indoors: pilates, yoga, kitchen marathons, strawberry jam; wine, defiance, singing (although i rarely let people know), fog, poached eggs with spinach and nutmeg, laughter, sun on unclothed skin, theories & philosophy, twilight, proper coffee, three colors: black/mauve/petrol, tokyo, crying, consciousness & responsibility for this planet and its people, sticky leather seats on shaking buses somewhere between thailand and bolivia, aspiration, extensive brunching, thinking about the metaphysics of 'water' can drive me insane, intensity, walking (cities, forests, hills, deserts), borderline experiences, cold rivers & hot bathtubs, INSPIRING ODORS, scarfs and scars, dust,...
i listen to my fave austrian radio , friday night: a feature on the olfactory power. whilst i am filling the room with odors of a grated orange cest, i listen to the programme i hosted myself 13 years ago [i was bloody 14 years old only!]: and whereas i talked about the aesthetics of destruction and the suicidal tendencies of young people of vorarlberg, the place next to switzerland where i partly grew up, they ask their listeners today, what influences odors have on their lives.
- and fuck yeah, they do have an impact. a trigger to memories, as this sense is hyper-sensitive in my case - probably thanks to....ah, don't mention it again, m.
...i follow the discussion, if the smell of sex is only perceivable for the lovers themselves or sticks on you like an obvious perfume. probably the first, that's why one thinks the second....
- anyways. it took me exactly 6 weeks until i finally grabbed my very own perfume for the first time in months - and it was a contradictory moment: feeling invaded by something alien, but at the same time embraced by myself...
me, myself, my interests:
words, dancing, eyes, movies, art, food/cooking, music, traveling, nature, people, pressure & strength, languages, peaches (fruits & artist) visual & aesthetical phenomenons, learning, unexpected make up, snowboarding, politics, fluctuating bodies, olive oil e.v., self-portraits, the exaggerated (camp, flamboyancy, burlesque, harajuku...), the subtle (looks, wordplays, silence, humour, unrealized beauty...), fashion design, los angeles/berkeley/sometimes: san francisco, sweat, outdoors: hiking, running, biking, strawberry fields / indoors: pilates, yoga, kitchen marathons, strawberry jam; wine, defiance, singing (although i rarely let people know), fog, poached eggs with spinach and nutmeg, laughter, sun on unclothed skin, theories & philosophy, twilight, proper coffee, three colors: black/mauve/petrol, tokyo, crying, consciousness & responsibility for this planet and its people, sticky leather seats on shaking buses somewhere between thailand and bolivia, aspiration, EXTENSIVE BRUNCHING, thinking about the metaphysics of 'water' can drive me insane, intensity, walking (cities, forests, hills, deserts), borderline experiences, cold rivers & hot bathtubs, inspiring odors, scarfs and scars, dust,...
...the programme finally changes from talk radio to la boum deluxe: in its beginnings a strict techno programme, now the homebase for every thinkable electronic music in austria.
as i am staying home after having a beer with bestest friends tonight to do some cooking, it definitely is the best background entertainment i can think of: patrick pulsinger with a life set of nice minimal tech, me beating double cream for a mousse de poisson in the same rhythm. at this point i still think of saturday's brunch as a decent invitation for friends, whom i want to cherish for their soul warming support throughout the last months with some homemade soul food.
...i continue with baking bread, dancing.
...but of course, a couple of hours later in the afternoon, dignified becomes hemingway-esque: we raise glasses on everything from condemning dichotomies to the advanced alcoholism we all suffer, whilst emptying plate after plate: of spicy cardamom tomato soup with vodka, an orange-ginger-lemonade, certainly poached eggs with spinach, petits fours de fromage, rucola cream cheese, roasted potatoes filled with bacon, sage and anchovies, the mentioned mousse, for the second time self made pate with a orange-ginger-red wine gelee, and for the first time: self made croissants. the conversation turns towards old children tv-series, brunch turns into dinner as i start making pasta with tomatoes, mozzarella and pesto, which is so salty [again.............] & hot, that it surprisingly encourages spontaneous dancing. - how could i expect anything different than an orgy when inviting the most outrageously wonderful sis/bro-couple A & J, my brother at heart M and my boys D & H from the house? no one else would turn the atelier into a time machine moving with signor rossi from the 60s to the austrian 80s, to an almost too balearic club of 2006 [c'on, it's just for fun...], and finally, after 3 hours, back into the 70s with some simple but nobel prize-worthy lyrics....
...i can't remember how i spent the few hours between us moving all together to the electro gönner where i almost fainted because of the smoke, and suddenly sitting at my grandparent's listening apathetically to their usual conservative moaning, my mouth crammed with cheap greasy meat, not to nourish me, but to avoid any obstreperous backtalk - "you finally gained weight whilst traveling, miriam, look at your full cheeks!" - damn, let me swallow and i tell you how much i always dislike your concentration on my appearance. "did you change your mind and will finally think of having children, and getting a proper life, miriam?" no fucking way, at least one person has to keep up a deviant lifestyle in this family....!
...don't know how i got into this situation, which is a drastic contrast to saturday [not only in terms of intellectuality] and obviously makes me swear too much. my parents, whom i met there for the first time after our first reunion, save me from this duty visit to bring me back to vienna for more champagne, before i start this sunday night web-monologue....
blame it to the dancing, blame it to hemingway, blame it to the beloved guests, blame it to brain-emptying grandparents - but i seriously can't recall any of the recipes to the dishes mentioned above. especially not the one for the 6 hours preparation wonders, my first croissants: buttery, sexy, crisp & soft, highly addictive. just guessing: bit of flour, yeast, lotsa butter, even more love, and pressure & strength to knead the dough 4 times....
...but probably i'm just bitchy and want to keep my secrets as long as i finally have you, readers out there, sitting on my table to indulge together my passion for extensive brunching...
no sleep at all
a random web identity
...its the third week of not being able to sleep.
i keep myself awake with listening to all the tunes that make me feel quite blue......tiefblau.
interests:
bodies - a transitional moment in time. my shifting desire: needing to feel it under extreme circumstances or wishing to get rid of it. [regardless of the first, recently discussed w/ R as more spicy than sweet...]: why this concentration on a physical coincidence? i totally disclaim any reference to a yet vivid, but still culturally constructed appearance. beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and not a quality to build an identity upon.
...you wanna refer to any particular part of my body? - enjoy the image, but don't bother me with your superficial comments. you think i am a nice soul? - i start listening to you. you refer to my writing? - i move a bit closer. you think i have a glowing personality? - tell me more about it. you have the feeling i'm not stupid? - you won my heart.
interests:
i listen to my fave austrian radio , friday night: a feature on the olfactory power. whilst i am filling the room with odors of a grated orange cest, i listen to the programme i hosted myself 13 years ago [i was bloody 14 years old only!]: and whereas i talked about the aesthetics of destruction and the suicidal tendencies of young people of vorarlberg, the place next to switzerland where i partly grew up, they ask their listeners today, what influences odors have on their lives.
- and fuck yeah, they do have an impact. a trigger to memories, as this sense is hyper-sensitive in my case - probably thanks to....ah, don't mention it again, m.
...i follow the discussion, if the smell of sex is only perceivable for the lovers themselves or sticks on you like an obvious perfume. probably the first, that's why one thinks the second....
- anyways. it took me exactly 6 weeks until i finally grabbed my very own perfume for the first time in months - and it was a contradictory moment: feeling invaded by something alien, but at the same time embraced by myself...
me, myself, my interests:
...the programme finally changes from talk radio to la boum deluxe: in its beginnings a strict techno programme, now the homebase for every thinkable electronic music in austria.
as i am staying home after having a beer with bestest friends tonight to do some cooking, it definitely is the best background entertainment i can think of: patrick pulsinger with a life set of nice minimal tech, me beating double cream for a mousse de poisson in the same rhythm. at this point i still think of saturday's brunch as a decent invitation for friends, whom i want to cherish for their soul warming support throughout the last months with some homemade soul food.
...i continue with baking bread, dancing.
...but of course, a couple of hours later in the afternoon, dignified becomes hemingway-esque: we raise glasses on everything from condemning dichotomies to the advanced alcoholism we all suffer, whilst emptying plate after plate: of spicy cardamom tomato soup with vodka, an orange-ginger-lemonade, certainly poached eggs with spinach, petits fours de fromage, rucola cream cheese, roasted potatoes filled with bacon, sage and anchovies, the mentioned mousse, for the second time self made pate with a orange-ginger-red wine gelee, and for the first time: self made croissants. the conversation turns towards old children tv-series, brunch turns into dinner as i start making pasta with tomatoes, mozzarella and pesto, which is so salty [again.............] & hot, that it surprisingly encourages spontaneous dancing. - how could i expect anything different than an orgy when inviting the most outrageously wonderful sis/bro-couple A & J, my brother at heart M and my boys D & H from the house? no one else would turn the atelier into a time machine moving with signor rossi from the 60s to the austrian 80s, to an almost too balearic club of 2006 [c'on, it's just for fun...], and finally, after 3 hours, back into the 70s with some simple but nobel prize-worthy lyrics....
...i can't remember how i spent the few hours between us moving all together to the electro gönner where i almost fainted because of the smoke, and suddenly sitting at my grandparent's listening apathetically to their usual conservative moaning, my mouth crammed with cheap greasy meat, not to nourish me, but to avoid any obstreperous backtalk - "you finally gained weight whilst traveling, miriam, look at your full cheeks!" - damn, let me swallow and i tell you how much i always dislike your concentration on my appearance. "did you change your mind and will finally think of having children, and getting a proper life, miriam?" no fucking way, at least one person has to keep up a deviant lifestyle in this family....!
...don't know how i got into this situation, which is a drastic contrast to saturday [not only in terms of intellectuality] and obviously makes me swear too much. my parents, whom i met there for the first time after our first reunion, save me from this duty visit to bring me back to vienna for more champagne, before i start this sunday night web-monologue....
blame it to the dancing, blame it to hemingway, blame it to the beloved guests, blame it to brain-emptying grandparents - but i seriously can't recall any of the recipes to the dishes mentioned above. especially not the one for the 6 hours preparation wonders, my first croissants: buttery, sexy, crisp & soft, highly addictive. just guessing: bit of flour, yeast, lotsa butter, even more love, and pressure & strength to knead the dough 4 times....
...but probably i'm just bitchy and want to keep my secrets as long as i finally have you, readers out there, sitting on my table to indulge together my passion for extensive brunching...
mironja - 17. Dec, 01:46
