Creative Writing, Paula: Difference between revisions

Latest revision as of 14:27, 19 April 2017

Short Stories: The Bruise

This is a mysterious story. I was 28 and lived in a small town in western Germany where I studied at the time. One sunday morning during late spring I woke up with a giant bruise on my upper left leg. It was perfectly round and had the size of breakfast plate. Its main color was yellow-green and the round shape was outlined by a dark red contour. I could feel its exploding heat by simply holding my hand close to the skin. The pain was immense. I had no idea how this bruise had gotten there. I had no headache, my dress was intact and my body showed no other injuries. My friend who I had met at a bar the night before insured me that we had parted after a few drinks in good spirits around midnight. With each day the bruise grew darker and darker. I started to like it. Despite its pain. I curiously watched it grow and change colors and with each day I was captured more and more. After two weeks the bruise was glowing in a dark crimson red. I could only sleep on my right side but I didn't mind. Then it slowly started going through its color palette in revers order. After another two weeks my mysterious companion had faded again completely, taking its curious secret along.

Short Stories: The plastic cup

I was about 21 when I went to an urologist to be examined due to an ongoing series of bladder infections. I heard about a certain vaccination that was supposedly able to solve my annoying problem. It was a hot summer day and everyone in the doctor's office was dressed lightly. The nurse in her white lab coat at the front desk gave me a white plastic cup and asked me to return it to her with a urine sample pointing towards the bathroom. Passing the other waiting patients in the open waiting room area in font of the front desk, I followed her instruction. I was alone in the bathroom and filled up the plastic cup with tap water. I drank it all, waited a bit and peed in the cup as demanded. With a pretended feeling of easiness I passed by the other patients on my way back to the front desk trying not to spill anything and wondered if they really needed that much of a sample and why they don't provide covers. When I passed the cup over to the nurse I noticed that I had left a big deep red lipstick stain on the border of the cup from drinking the tap water. There I was: handing the nurse an edgeful cup with urine and a lipstick stain. I froze. The nurse grabbed the cup, wrote my name on it and turned around to carefully place it on the tablet next to the other cups waiting to get inspected by the doctor. With her back facing me I quickly left the medical practice and I never returned. But I like the idea that I left my friendly little mark behind.

Short Stories: The Encounter

It was the summer of 2015. A man has contacted me to ask if I would take his picture. He said that he liked the experience of posing nude. We arranged a meeting on a parking lot just outside the city for the following week. He came directly from work and told his wife that he was going to the gym which gave us a time-span of about two hours. It was a warm and sunny day and we drove along the fields to find a remote location outside. We decided on a spot by a small river and there I took pictures of him in the bushes and on my car. It made him happy.

Short Stories: Excursion

Short Stories: Bine

The phonecall

Uschi ruft an um mit mir cartoons zu gucken Stöhner ruft an und ich verstehe ihn nicht

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-== Audiences - February 19 ==
+== Short Stories: The Bruise ==
-I remember as a kid I used to love putting on my moms make-up, wear fancy dresses and pretend to be someone else. I guess most kids do that. In play we let our imagination take over and let ourselves be whoever we want to be; doing whatever we want this person to do. Being both, the performer and the audience at the same time. For a performer, I was certain of that, needs an audience. Since I was lacking an audience I decided to become my own. I became the kind of audience one could only hope for: a cheering, excited and enthusiastic audience. Always hungry for more and always pushing the performance further. Sometimes I would become tired of dancing, tired of
+This is a mysterious story. I was 28 and lived in a small town in western Germany where I studied at the time. One sunday morning during late spring I woke up with a giant bruise on my upper left leg. It was perfectly round and had the size of breakfast plate. Its main color was yellow-green and the round shape was outlined by a dark red contour. I could feel its exploding heat by simply holding my hand close to the skin. The pain was immense. I had no idea how this bruise had gotten there. I had no headache, my dress was intact and my body showed no other injuries. My friend who I had met at a bar the night before insured me that we had parted after a few drinks in good spirits around midnight. With each day the bruise grew darker and darker. I started to like it. Despite its pain. I curiously watched it grow and change colors and with each day I was captured more and more. After two weeks the bruise was glowing in a dark crimson red. I could only sleep on my right side but I didn't mind. Then it slowly started going through its color palette in revers order. After another two weeks my mysterious companion had faded again completely, taking its curious secret along.
+<gallery>
+_Selbst_bw.jpg
+</gallery>
-Now, what has become of me? A performer without audience again. A performer afraid of the audience even. And longing for it at the same time.
+== Short Stories: The plastic cup ==
+I was about 21 when I went to an urologist to be examined due to an ongoing series of bladder infections. I heard about a certain vaccination that was supposedly able to solve my annoying problem. It was a hot summer day and everyone in the doctor's office was dressed lightly. The nurse in her white lab coat at the front desk gave me a white plastic cup and asked me to return it to her with a urine sample pointing towards the bathroom. Passing the other waiting patients in the open waiting room area in font of the front desk, I followed her instruction. I was alone in the bathroom and filled up the plastic cup with tap water. I drank it all, waited a bit and peed in the cup as demanded. With a pretended feeling of easiness I passed by the other patients on my way back to the front desk trying not to spill anything and wondered if they really needed that much of a sample and why they don't provide covers. When I passed the cup over to the nurse I noticed that I had left a big deep red lipstick stain on the border of the cup from drinking the tap water. There I was: handing the nurse an edgeful cup with urine and a lipstick stain. I froze. The nurse grabbed the cup, wrote my name on it and turned around to carefully place it on the tablet next to the other cups waiting to get inspected by the doctor. With her back facing me I quickly left the medical practice and I never returned. But I like the idea that I left my friendly little mark behind.
+<gallery>
+Plastic_Cup_2.jpg
+</gallery>
+== Short Stories: The Encounter ==
+It was the summer of 2015. A man has contacted me to ask if I would take his picture. He said that he liked the experience of posing nude. We arranged a meeting on a parking lot just outside the city for the following week. He came directly from work and told his wife that he was going to the gym which gave us a time-span of about two hours. It was a warm and sunny day and we drove along the fields to find a remote location outside. We decided on a spot by a small river and there I took pictures of him in the bushes and on my car. It made him happy.
-rehearsing tragedy
+<gallery>
-audience becomes autonomes self from which I can’t withdraw
+Steffen_6160_sw.jpg
-criticism becomes more and more
+</gallery>
-I indulged in that kind of play.
+== Short Stories: Excursion ==
-Childhood passed and so did the time of playing but the desire to be someone else stayed and even grew bigger with time. When I looked into the mirror I couldn’t relate to the person I saw. I would try to tick my reflection to prove to myself that this is not me.
+<gallery>
+Mecklenburg_5056_sw.jpg
+</gallery>
-Anyone. It really didn't matter who. I wasn't particularly drawn to beautiful people with fancy lives, much money or success. I just deeply deeply felt that I didn't want to be myself. I was longing to be someone who doesn't feel the need to pretend to be someone else all the time.
+== Short Stories: Bine ==
-In fact pretending to be someone else was something that has accompanied me all my life.
+<gallery>
+Bine_KLEISTER.jpg
+</gallery>
+== The phonecall ==
+<gallery>
+phone_web.jpg
+</gallery>
-https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nACj50uq6_s
+Uschi ruft an um mit mir cartoons zu gucken
+Stöhner ruft an und ich verstehe ihn nicht
-== Not Invited - February, 17 ==
-Once again I'm not invited. I thought this happens only when you are a child or a teenager at most. Not at this age. Not again and again and again.
-Once again I'm not invited. Not invited to share my thoughts. To turn them into words and speak them out loud. But what if I do have something to say? Who will I tell it to? My alien friend. Will you be my companion, my pal? Will you, dear unknown stranger, stick with me? Just for now - that's all I'm asking for. Together, we can confirm our existence to one another. I need you to do that for me. Confirm me. Comfort me. Be my witness. For I cannot confirm myself. I cannot comfort myself. I need you to do that for me. I need you to be the witness of my last words: For tomorrow I will fall silent. And I will remain silent from this day forward for the rest of my life. I refuse to speak again once and for all.
-To say goodbye to the speaking part of the world I prepared a list of my favorite words for each letter of the alphabet. I will read them to you: Amnesia, Boredom, Claustrophobia, Delusion, Ether, Fukushima ...
-I'm inviting you to let me guide you through this. For there are rules to be obeyed. Rules I need to tell you, Rules without which I cannot continue.
-'''Rule Number One''': Be present. Don't leave the room. Don't check your phone. Give me your full attention. I need it. I long for it. I deserve it.
-'''Rule Number Two''': Watch this by yourself and share it only with people who you know also decided to fall silent.
-'''Rule Number Three''': Erase this video after watching it.
-As these are my last words, you might think I must have chosen them carefully. I did not. I will not pretend to hold some kind of wisdom ready for you. I will neither have advise, nor answers. I just want you to share this with me so I don't have to be alone. You are going to be my last audience.
-I've been wanting to quit talking for quite some time already. But I'm never satisfied with my last sentence. It has to be something special, something deep and meaningful. I can't stop talking before I haven't found the right last sentence. I just won't accept anything mediocre. I did have it once but then there was nobody i could share it with. That obviously doesn't count then. So you have to stick with me tonight until i find it again.
-One word for each letter of the alphabet.
-For the POV of someone doing a video confession.
-What it means to have no audience
-From tomorrow on I will never speak again.
-Decide to remain silent
-Silence as resistance
-Roleplay
-The healing power of words
-I need you to mirror me. To compensate, to comfort. For I can't confirm
-Witness
-Memory
-Maybe only writing because never having to read it
-In fact i chose this form in order to avoid audience
-urge to perform but not in front of people, tension between outgoing and introverted
-What would my life be like if I remembered all the things my body tried so hard to forget?
-== Steffen L. ==
-I get into my car and start driving. The streets are crowded and the traffic is hectic. I drive almost automatically. Changing lanes, stopping, accelerating - it feels like a meditation. I planned enough time to get there on time: at a parking lot outside Berlin. I place I have never heard of before. My thoughts are circling around the upcoming encounter. S. suggested time and place: 4pm at the parking lot of Lidl, right after he finished working. Last week he didn’t work out, he had to postpone our meeting due to a business trip. I didn’t mind. It gives me more time to find out what I’m actually expecting. I don’t know - I still don’t know. That postponed week doesn’t give me any answers. His wife thinks he will be at the gym, that gives us a time span of one and a halb hours. I’m excited, my heart beats faster than usual.
-We meet and he instantly starts talking about his wife, their marriage troubles and their how their sex life has faded out. He also talks about the education of his kids. He doesn’t ask me anything. While he nervously talks on and on I’m looking out the window. We are passing fields and a small river. I’m absorbed in thought, wondering about the image I’m about to take. I’m curious how he will present himself.
-Ist es möglich, dass ich es vielleicht doch der Treffen wegen mache? Dass es mir gar nicht wirklich um das Bild geht. Sondern um den Puls, die Aufregung, das Geheimnisvolle? Nutze ich die Kamera und ihn aus um mir meinen eigenen Kick zu holen? Um mich lebendig zu fühlen? Ich schiebe den Gedanken beiseite und versuche mich wieder auf das Gespräch zu konzentrieren.
-* Ich ärgere mich über die Bemerkung und die frage mich warum Typen sich immer das Recht herausnehmen einem zu sagen, wie attraktiv, nett, hübsch oder streng sie einen finden. Danach habe ich doch gar nicht gefragt. Ich komme doch auch nicht auf die Idee ihm zu sagen, dass er nicht „meinem Typ“ entspricht. Was soll denn das? Wie sind doch nicht auf einem blind date! Oder doch?
--> Ein Fotoprojekt ohne Bilder. Den Voyeurismus unbefriedigt lassen. Spannung durch Text aufbauen. Bilder lösen sie aber nicht auf.
-Fetish of being photographed. It's his secret.