How Berlin converted me to Marxism-Leninism

Well, not precisely. But in one of the cuddling sessions, N. said, matter shapes consciousness – rather than the reverse (or perhaps, much more than the reverse). I have not invested the time into researching whether this line of pop-marxism from the lips of my punk-dyed psychedelic-ingesting Berlin queer friend represents the theoretical plot accurately …

Celan and the mother tongue

I vaguely remember reading that Paul Celan, the Jewish-German poet born in Romania and going through the Shoah, had issues writing in German after the Holocaust.  That makes more than sense. Yet, wikipedia claims he said: "There is nothing in the world for which a poet will give up writing, not even when he is a …

Human, just more so (2)

When writing the last post, I got tired and actually just stopped – after one section – before I got to the point. There was a point to the title.  It's a quote from somewhere, I don't remember where – one of the last book on ASD I read (Valerie Gaus, "Living well on the …

Update on autistics in cities, sanity as a currency and tribal apoptosis

Long break from writing. Moving to another city in another country and a different (sub)culture, living with something like a partner, dealing with city, changes, trying to manage arranging an apartment. Too much to deal with to keep a focus on writing. Both good times in a busy way, and just overwhelm from too many …

Intergenerational trauma re-play

It was definitely a well-scripted play. Setting, surprise, suspense, culmination, resolution, aftermath, reverberations. A good portion of drama, directed by the echoes of the past, the fruitfulness and irritability of the moment, and a certain aesthetic sensitivity. Philharmonic sensitivity. When to increase the tension and volume, when to let it abate. The fallout was and …

Freedom

Could I learn from you – freedom? I felt your heart wasn't chained your mind wasn't chained. You had no securities and you were at times fragile and naked like a snail or the wing of an insect, still moist and sticky. . Is this enough to be happy? . I wondered how you'd come …

Found in one of the suitcases

Pasha, I remember your room full of suitcases, wigs manequins and – what the heck else? One of 7 rooms. Was your mum's spirit in there? . I remember they were made of leather, not plastic, and one of them said 1956? I remember the photos from Cambridge. How did you get through there as …

Language and trauma

/*this is a mild article on trauma related to cultural alienation from the perspective of someone whose migration experiences weren't dramatic or violent thank God, so no trigger warnings. Brief and non-graphic mention of a friend's refugee camp story*/ This morning found myself looking at the signup information for a professional course in trauma therapy …

Berlin mon amour, migrant dilemmas

as they do in Romania, a pig probably has to be slaughtered. the question is in the choice of pig. some good candidates are pride, identity, comfort, psychological defences, love, money, career, or perhaps home, childhood; the past, the future, memories, or hopes. it's a good menu. apparently slaughtering nothing leads to nothing to eat …