post of october 21st

I moved.
I bought a new cupboard. It is filling a whole wall of my new room. It is designed by a genius. It is the monolith of IKEA. With its side walls it forms a square. In itself it is seperated into 25 squares all together. This symmetry and regularity even would make a dead skull on the shelf look orderly.
I moved one metre to the left. Directly in front of my parents' sleeping room there's my door.

Well, it's just for a little time.
Despite it's location, the interior of my new Zentrale is a paradise. It is a wonderful thing to have new shelfes at times, in which you're putting your whole life into new areas and get a lot of new things to put on these shelves. I shouldn't talk about the location of my new place in such a nasty way indeed, as I really should thank my mother for the generosity of letting me into it. Originally she wanted to have some more intimate space for herself in here. And she had the right for it.

Instead of immediately writing a post about my last week, my first week at university I will wait (as usual) and post the letter about my new life situation, that I'm going to send to my friends. I have the feeling that once you go to university your personal definition of friendship changes abruptly. My dearest friends, the people who know me better than anyone else on earth, are a hundred miles away and I will only communicate with thm by mail. In the past I got to see them every day. I tend to think of my school very often, when I'm at university. There was so much warmth there. Everything seemed like a long trusted part of myself.
This morning, sitting in the train to Frankfurt I had some kind of vision. I saw a woman's back, that really reminded me of Maria's. I know that this scene sounds like stolen from a drama I've watched on tv, but I experienced. Maybe I early on recognized the drama in it and lived through it more consciously than necessary.
However, I had another kind of these visions just lately.
As I was attending a sunday service at my school, together with my parents, I was quite sure to recognize my English and Sports teacher, when we were entering the parking space. It was not him though. But I only realized that after I had become completely nervous and selfconsciously got out of the car. I tried to look as cool, elegant, sexy and handsome as possible, while my parents were trying to find a fitting space for our car right next to me. You probably can imagine, that the presence of parents in a situation like that, doesn't really install a comfortable feeling.
How old am I?
That was the question I asked myself, when I finally noticed that the man standing in a close distance was definetely NOT my sport teacher. I knew, that I had somehow hoped to see or meet him there. My connection, my link to this person can in fact be described as quite confusing, irrational, crazy, secret, hate, disgust and a subconsciously contacting undeniable APPEAL.
[note: To put one thing straight here: The word love was not contained into that row of words.]
Somehow this guy has always remembered me in Harrison Ford. [note: In fact it is my life proof for the fact, that there exist more versions than just one of some appealing incredibly sexy human beings out there in the world. q.e.d.]
Most recently some sightings that ocurred to me on Campus turned out to not be any kind of visions but the pure reality in front of my eyes: A lot of well known faces. It's a little bit like in our local supermarket. You meet a lot of folks, whom you don't really need to see.
I just read the introduction to Stephen Kind's Dark Tower series. He's writing about being 19. What a conincidence. I'm 19. He's talkin about naivity. About ambition and the mentality to just go for it. About dreaming and smoking dope. And about just going your own way with just a few trousers and a typewriter.
Times have changed: