Sunday, December 29
...she is intoxicated by love...
what a fuck, she thinks - healthy and inspiring, what a man. she hesitates, was it real or a dream? how to find out... she will never know.

Saturday, December 28
I want to keep my vulnerability as long as I live.

first attempt about relationship

Friday, December 27
What a day, just relaxing, recovering, healing. I didn't think that can happen - a lick rather than a riff.

All great stories start with romance and end with a tragedy. Because our story isn't a great one it will not end tragically - wow, good for us.

Namusso - nice CD - thx - break - listening california love, things will never be the same... o gah - dear mama, slow - i don't skip, just easy nice voice, just to show you that i understand. now - infectious melodies

No sleep, my coffee is bitter. My bed comfortable. A statement, not an attempt of advertisement, more like to say I don't want to get up.

For everyone who doesn't understand: sometimes I do automatic writing, just writing what comes to my mind; word, sentences - without sense. DADA

To bed, he said, another day, another time, another lonely night, another long day.
Facebook stop for a while. The only chance to find myself back in normality.
No bad vybz, face to face with my life. No aggressions, acceptance of how it is. Today included, still one week to know what I want, what I need - my deadline

Everybody can leave me, but me, I cannot leave myself. Me, I am always there. That one I cannot change and running away by suicide is not an option.

passion, logic, romance, reason, math, poetry, science, spiritualit
Changes from Vybz to Gambian sound, why that?
He said he liked the ninetees, hmmm,,,,
I don't do no fund, not now. I do love you only when you love me back.

Thursday, December 26
I wonder, if better tomorrow. Ofcuz(beautiful word) i am afraid.

No, don't go - tonight I've lost - you are the almighty king - china man. That's me - nobody and nothing - SHE the huge sexy winning queen. Difficult to surrender? No, the game hasn't finished yet and I stay Sanneh, a warrior fighting for an undefined world. It's not a game, even.

No, no, no, I know, am not the beautiful - no more crying, no victimising, no more starvation, no more killing - Freddie sings, an Utopia - it's a land where I and I and I come from. Anyhow, sometimes you have the wonderful suggestion it is you who is meant, when you hear or read sweetened words. Tiny presents that embellish life and finally it doesn't matter to whom they are addressed. When you need them, grab them.

He said to his home robot, who actually shouldn't show emotions, which break an outwardly bred harmony: Du hast Liebeskummer - that is not true :) - no, I neutralise to prevent not to get sucked in romantic abysses - keep it burning, Randy's Reggae Radio DJ Enic 1 splatters - much blessing in honour, it's about nothing material - all my people got birthdays in december - dada writing - let's give it in - pls standby while we try to reconnect - movado, split split split... I am just waiting to find sleep

This morning much better, I feel it, you , thousands miles - miles, miles away - true

Wednesday, December 25
No, today is not good. I would like someone to hold my hand... All night talking talking talking till dawn. Like we had been in a huge cloud of mist - speaking to each other, consensuses and then forgetting the said. My lips still vibrating. Leaps in my head, smithereens, here and then a microsleep, heartbeat.

Tuesday, December 24
Why do I write alll this, I am already dead...
- I thought wolfskin would fit to me - sheep in wolf's clothing haha

'never judge any verse
by the shimmer of their skin'
- Natalia Molebatsi

Lied like a dog for you and now I am left alone. Blues life written in my blood forever makes me somehow feel free. Just me, no-one to care for, wow isn't that good? Nobody knows when you are down and out... wild women don't have the Blues ... my man he don't love me, he treats me all so ... Neither Bohemian nor Bourgeosie (... wouldn't even guess the meaning of those words) but just down on the ground. Calling me extra conscious to rescue your own soul. Yes, I am bitter, no fake happiness. The seldom appearing magic moments I feel you make me maintain our status quo and forget about time and money.
On Sunday I bought a Jack Wolfskin jacket at bella D's Hausflomi. It belonged to her friend she lives together, who had got it as present from her father and is now preparing to travel to Uruguay. Am happy for her and mean it!

Sunday, December 22
I still keep to my opinion that only people who are interested read here. People who don't care, won't read, because there is no reason to do so. Some give feed back, and every time that happens I am happy. Ten free days in sight, time of contemplation. Fluctuation between Bohemian and Bourgeoisie - a lonesome dance, fearless. To lose friends is most difficult. Then sadness comes again rising. A fight starts in denial to let go what once had be mine. Then approvement, something new will begin. My own perception no matter if others share. Then suddenly, compliance out of nothing and no explication will match. Another dance, the best ever it seems that very moment till also this one comes to an end to start again afresh. Skin, lips, tongue, cheeks, ears, neck, belly, hands, arms, legs, feet, genitals...

Lost in evidence... one boy wrote: dear maren be awear of the liers fakers and scammers you most know and be always careful of your self... thanks so much, you, who could be my grandson, born in the Gambia, strong and struggling, asking me to visit him and his family next time I come.

Saturday, December 21
(: me think I I I how to get out of this loop to enter a full room of answering people I not even understand because their voices mingle to a noisy sludge - nobody ever can touch my gravel streets leading to a mountain swamped of lonliness finally intended to get in contact with universe :)

To free myself I've decided to spare form in order to fulfill expectations. Just behaving what mind and soul demand, no calculation of being beloved.

Friday, December 20
I had a coffee with my yoga teacher and her husband. We were talking about computers and internet. They are far far from the cyber world. I proposed he should accquire a notebook to organise better, yeah, and to somehow know at least a little about the virtual. He answered if he had one he would just smash it on the wall. Me mused if it would be that easy... well, he could destroy his very own machine. But to demolish something in internet you need to transform your aggressions into a very sophisticated energy to finally be adept in hacking.

Thursday, December 19
Jesus, I feel heavy. Since I was in Venice I've gained more than three kilos.

There are mistakes in his face, certain lines I don't understand. Those make me feel distant and restrain my desire to kissing. His mask like a bark prevents access to his soul even. Have to search for my chisels to bludgeon what upsets my sense of aesthetic perfection.

Wednesday, December 18
"She is not actually in Santurce, but a little beyond it, in what might once have been called a suburb, but which is now far worse than what we would call slum. In Puerto Rico I believe it is called a favela. I have been to Puerto Rico once, and so I will not try to describe a favela. And I am sure, when you return, that you will not try to describe it either."
Hayward looks at her, at once distant and intense, and her a typewritten sheet of paper. "This is the address. But I think that you will understand, almost as soon as you get where are you going, that the word 'address' has almost no meaning - it would be more honest to say: this is the neighbourhood."
James Baldwin, If Beale Street could talk, 1974, Vintage 2006

Tuesday, December 17
Slumming - from its phonetic appearance I first thought about something like roaming, lingering, hanging around, jamming. But then I got it: poverty tourism. I can't even find the right words to express what I feel. But to try anyhow: I imagine snobby people saying: Let's go slumming, before we are going shopping. Of course... there are also people among them who are more serious, who kinda want to know about how people live in poverty and who feel for them. My parents in fact did such a tour in Soweto. My mother was impressed.... But I didn't like to hear about, I felt ashamed.

Monday, December 16
I have to correct - starting a new life is not possible, of course, one life, and it's not about a second after death. It's about changing; location, work, landscape. A place where I am being needed more. Anyhow, traveling will be always a small version of the big dream.

Resolution for the new year: no lying, no biting - trues stories, Sophie Calle
When does it stop, the waftin naked lunch, the sick stomach that only time can heal?

I wish I could fly to Nigeria - Lagos is a good city, I heard that. Starting a new life is my dream. I talk a lot about, to everybody, at work, to my friends. Some people say I'll never be able to do it, some let it happen.

Saturday, December 14
I've called the landlord's trust company a hundred times to check the heating in my attic studio. They mended it a hundred times but it's still broken and cold here... all my pullovers and wool socks not give me warm.

It's still there. I know is up to me just throw. My phantasy gets tired keeping it up. it - sounds like a conundrum, encrypted, what is -it-? Blues - I've been blown in the wind to die as like I've never existed.

Friday, December 13
Today one of my dancing collegues has confirmed that I am not that assimilated to society like I thought. But I am not a bad dancer, I think. Then I told her that I worked on having my way of life and view on it. As long as people don't fear me I am fine.

This weekend no work. I wish I could stay in bed with someone, just talking, sleeping, eating, planning ...

Thursday, December 12
9 o'clock - a view on the kitchen wall clock. At that hundredth of second I hesitate - night or day.

Wednesday, December 11
Once somebody told me he would learn to love me.
my view on his hands, his view on my left tit - moments
Red wine finished, somoking on the balcony, thinking. Should I pour me a whiskey? ... key to wisdom ...

African Dance with Jacqueline Mösch Mampuya. Dancing makes me free my mind. Before start I had a conversation with a very nice, friendly woman. On facebook she had seen me putting my relationship status into open relationship. She said she didn't believe in love, it was just a moment and then gone. She prefers intelectuel examinations, about music, literature, art. Love was something she experienced when she was twenty and stupid, she said. She is the same age like me. I learn from her enjoying life without love. After dancing she asked me to have a drink, but I had promised my man to bring food. When I arrived at home with the food in my hand I found that open relationship man was away (for the night I guess). I could eat, he wrote. That's life.

Tuesday, December 10
Galatasary - Juventus. Football Blues. No help from my friends (except from some). A lot of snow, the game stops. Channel change, Benefica - Paris. Whateverism. Red wine, smoking on the balcony in the cold, thinking. Tomorrow work, thinking.

Your freedom is my freedom. Voilà, this morning is good. I feel relieved. Our (my man and me) talk yesterday gave back to me my self-sufficiency.
I had a kind of crisis, regretting my life I led what made no sense, because I regarded myself as the loser who achieved less. But there is only one way to survive - be proud of who you are, what you did and what you are doing.

Monday. December 9
Men are difficult, they don't like your soul, but the mystery around you. When they disclosed it they lose interest.

... actually, symbols, bravado poems, blueses, confessionals, philosophical treatises all aimed at edifying and transfiguring the soul.

Sunday, December 8
Is this war or peace. Looks like peace but is war. Fighting myself while trying to love myself. At the moment I could smash smash smash. No crying allowed, tears become aggressions to eat up my bones and suck my soul. I am a zombie made by hypersensitivity. I don't see any angels singing for me just the hell's - you have your love and I am lost in oblivion. How could I have been so stupid to believe love could be meant for me too. I push your sword into my throat and die to become alive again. No You anymore, just me. I removed the word love from my personal dictionary. What remains is pure cynicism and sarcasm that never will unite. - Lautréamont's Sista

Edited in my lunchbreak, because I still fear those ghosts I mentioned yesterday (soldiers of invisble ghosts).

You see, that is what I really miss. Yesterday I attended a concert of King Kora and his musicians, beautiful music. Baye Magatte Ndiaye had organised the whole evening, two performances with his drummer classes included. Was great. I know him from my African dance class I do once a week. As a matter of fact I knew a lot of women there who do the class like me. (I hope they didn't notice my guinnes mind - they are all brave, me feel I am the outrageous one) Like at other events here in Basel people often ask me why is it that my man is not with me. It is because we lead an open relationship. There are no arrangements, everybody is doing what he and she likes not wondering about the other more than necessary. I am an intellectuel, so I try to understand what is happening and keep my head up anyway. Life in Switzerland is not difficult.

During a chat with a friend about love she wrote:
Men nowadays did worth it. if one fall u move on n sow him that u deserve happiness n caring. Thats my concept. i love myself better than anything. so i cant love a man to the extend of demaging my life.
She is doing good, I learn from her.

Saturday, December 7
Actually, I've decided just a 30 min ago, not to log in fb and not write here. Now, I break my resolutions 50%. In my smug imagination I hope somebody will read what I write. And I don't care. This diary was on first hand meant for me, like diaries are meant for the person who writes it. So when you read it ( I am listening to Legal Sound), I mean you ghost I don't know, this is personal und only meant for people who respect me.

Friday, December 6
I believe in explaining things as part of communication. If you are not willing to explain, it is because you yourself are not sure about what you are thinking or doing. I explain to give people - that doesn't mean I know what I am doing - the notion that they take part in my life, that I don't intent to exclude them. Like I do when they explain to me.
The problem is when you don't understand a language - in my case Mandinka - and you hear this language, but you don't understand. To not feel alone me, I start to make my own story, just to in a way participate. Share laughing, to mention the most important. I then somehow feel I am part of the conversation, but in reality I am not at all. It's only in my vanity to think I am part of their conversation.

No Easy Walk to Freedom, Nelson Mandela, 1965
(hope I'ven't made too many mistakes in my copy)

Thursday, December 5
NELSON MANDELA I never forget you
-------------------------------------------

if you don't feel heard

Darkness and Infrared via Wikipedia
As the polar opposite to brightness, darkness is understood to be an absence of visible light. It is also the appearance of black in a colored space. Humans are unable to distinguish color when either light or darkness predominate. In conditions of insufficient light, perception is achromatic and ultimately black.
The emotional response to darkness has generated metaphorical usages of the term in many cultures.
Infrared light is electromagnetic radiation with longer wavelengths than those of visible light, extending from the nominal red edge of the visible spectrum at 700 nanometers (nm) to 1 mm. This range of wavelengths corresponds to a frequency range of approximately 430 THz down to 300 GHz. Most of the thermal radiation emitted by objects near room temperature is infrared.

Wednesday, December 4
...hello...let's see what is maren doing...cooking...cleaning...
Wake up, get up early again, around six in the morning. Not that early fortunately. Another day. 2014 in sight. Slowly get used to the futuristic numbers of counting years. Actually they aren't futurististic, for is now, anyhow, to me them look futuristic. Probably, because I was born and grew up in the last millenium.
Yesterday I ordered Malcolm X Diary 1964. Am kind of addicted to books. They are affordable compared to art. You can share them with a lot of people, whereas art pieces are unique (apart from multiples, prints and other technics of reproducing). Music is something to share as well. Ok, when people come to visit you, you share your art pieces with them. And even this kind of sharing is more direct. With books you just guess other people reading them what makes reading introverted in contrast to contemplating pictures.

Tuesday, December 3
Suddenly, when I am alone I think my world is gone and my life is on a wrong way.

Monday, December 2
Bla, bla, bla - where is the bomb. No bomb - table bomb?
Ha, ha, ha - where is the blond. Table dancing?

Sunday, December 1
You see, life is like this. Coming home from work is not always the same. It's not always pepasoup. Every day different. No, I've finished crying. Just live my life in an easy way. No more cleaning, washing, shopping food when its not for me. Wow, that makes me feel great to know I can live my life for my own interests and not for other people's preferences. Really, I want to think of what I want, what I need.