Red Tape conversations


“Dancing the tango with a complete stranger under the Eifel tower. Climbing a tree and look out over the rain forest to see only trees and birds. Take a bath outside with a view on a Norwegian Fjörd in wintertime and see a moose walk by. Gently kiss a loved neck, turn around and dream away. Wake up on a sunday morning somewhere on this planet and look into the eyes of a so familiar face. Ride a bicycle around the Everest and inhale the mountain air that goes through her hair. Drink a Belgian beer on a roof in Saint-Petersburg and look at the stars. Go to Nowhere, Uninc Caddo County, OK,USA and just see the streetsign and write down her name on it. Have breakfast on top of a jeep watching a Cheetah go out hunting and feel the warm hot breeze and then go to Patagonia to eat a Patagonian rabbit roasted above a wood fire…”
“You’re crazy” she said and turned around to give you the smile you learned to love so much. You knew she was right. There is a crazy person trapped inside of you. A little person trying to break out but who is too safely contained in this social obligations body you grew yourself to make sure you didn’t stood out too much from the crowd. People always figured you were a weird person, with a -likable but- strange sense of humor. You? You thought you were pretty normal for an average person. A little tough of crazyness indeed but still below the universal line of complete nutcases. Nutcases you started to like more and more for their powers to stand out of the crowd and in some mysterious way could resist all the temptations you had fallen for. Today, a couple of months before turning 30, you felt closer to the nuts then to the normals and it actually finally felt right. You’re not there yet. Not yet ready to break out of it and do all the things you said you were going to do but you are mentally getting ready to face the music. To face the soundtrack written by Goran Bregovic, embedded in a nice sauce of chaos. A rhitme that makes you type stupid mistakes in English just because it keeps on pushing your typing speed to the limit. Not making it possible for you to reread what you are writing except between 2 songs.
At an ever increasing speed you see the images pass by. Images from your life mixed with scenes you saw in one of the too many romantic movies you have watched over the past 2 weeks. For some people it might make their life look kind of dull compared to the over-romantised images of the movies but for you they all look the same. They’re all just as great. Sure, you weren’t thinking that breaking up with that one girl would ever look fantastic to you but knowing what you experienced after that or another break up makes it all worth it.
“They should create a device that plugs right into your thoughts, put’s them on paper, makes some visuals of it….” you think but fastely enough realising that that would break the magic of the moments. The little moments put back into their context. It wouldn’t be able to express that first touch of two fingertips; that first time you go a loved ones hair; the times you get lost in each others eyes dreaming away in the middle of a busy crossroad at rush hour. Make things fade away around you. Combine the mental prints of smells, of impressions left behind. Not that words alone do justice to the expressions you want to share with the world but words have to do right now. But let’s start with a beginning to this story that will take me typing through the night. The beginning of the end or the ending of the beginning. That’s the right moment to start. That’s were we should really start when you want to talk about your crazy ideas and how you’re going to accomplish them.
“Now what was the beginning of the ending of the beginning again.” you think out loud. Fast enough you realize that that would be a subject of a thesis at some kind of fancy university. People get money to figure things like that out but it’s not you so you decide to take it right from the first French Kiss. Yes, that should be the right moment in time to start with. The things that happend before were important too but you are confident that they will come to the surface when needed. You know that the actual beginning of the end is the blue eyed girl that has faded in and out of your love life that you lost count but she had nothing to do with the start you chose to take.

It must have been spring so many years back. There was rain in the air and the leaves seemed greener then they usually were. Maybe you coloured them in after the kiss to make sure it left a descend print in your head. The girl you met a couple of weekends before during some kind of weekend with the scouting group you were in. As young boys should do you had made yourself into a shadow, sneeked to the girls room and met up with the girl. You had your friends with you and she had hers but somehow it felt like the two of you were the only ones on the planet. Although you were pretty sure nobody had noticed your nightly movements you did get caught and had to spend the night doing all kinds of lame punishments. You do remember standing outside in your underwear with your nose against a corner wall and the girl standing with her nose to the other side of the corner. Almost possible to kiss eachother if you had known about real kissing by then. You didn’t so you froze your butt off, smiling all the time to her. A smile that made you feel warm in a way you would start to love soo much. For the stories you’ll tell you children later you would make this the moment of the first kiss. Somehow it sounds better to make it happen at this moment in time then to move on to the actual act of first french kissing. The dream is always better then the reality.
5 kisses later you were still together with the girl (which was obviously a personal record) and this relation promised to set out some general directions for all the future relations. Not only it would become a habbit to get completely surprised at the start of a relation, not only would you learn so much from every relation that your head by now was already bursting with all the relational knowledge you had learned but already forgot but it would also set a standard for the breaking up procedure. First there would be the reaction that your partner wasn’t able to give you as much love as you’re giving your partner (eventhough you ensure her enough that that is not what you are seeking for), you would also get the remark that you regard them too much as princesses and that they can’t live up to that. Stage 3 in the breakup would involve another person. Preferably a good friend you brought into contact with your partner. They can always talk much better with that person, start to feel attracted and end up in their arms for about a month or two. After that all traces of existence would be erased for about a year or two.
“Mmhhh… sound all a little bit frustrated” you think by yourself and you know it is but this is about me and my life so why should I care.
But back to the first French kiss. It happend behind a hague while friends were waiting. My first kiss and it was a quicky already. The power of it I would only learn much later when I had the first mend-to-be kiss with the girl that proved to be a blessing and a hell for my love life. She’s responsible for the fact that I will never be able to look into blue eyes again with the same naivety and honesty as like I can with any other kind of coloured eyes. To know her story you just have to read these pages. They’re almost all about her and our history goes back to holding hands.
You have to remind yourself what the subject of this writing was again and think of what would be the next stage in this story. The great moments with Blue Eyes? the lovely crazyness of Catwoman? The Creative exposures of Artsy or the adventures of Curly…
updated someday…


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