Starting in ernst to write

I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim, or mumur, or think at some point, if this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.”

-Kurt Vonnegut

“We know from daily life that we exist for other people first of all, for whose smiles and well-being our own happiness depends.”

-Albert Einstein

Preface

March 2nd, 2018.

I was standing at a mid-city intersection in the great German city of Leipzig.

The light was red. It was about 2 degrees cold and everyone was bundled up warmly. I just stepped off the tram on my way to an warm café to continue writing my stories.

Standing at the intersection came a car through the green light and the pretty woman driver inside blew me a big kiss.

Hmmm, strange... me?

As I look around behind me for her mate or friends,

I saw no one.

I am 59 years old now, not a 30 year old

blown kiss catcher anymore.

Then as the light changed I crossed to the other side and a strange small fellow, also bundled up, ball-like, bearded, approached me and walked right up on me for a hug,

arms outstretched.

This is extremely un-German,

bodily contact with a stranger ist verboten. I hugged him anyway because I loved such strangeness.

He proceeded to tell me he was handicapped, mentally I assumed, and he appeared a bit so,

or he was really a good actor.

He asked for some change and I gave him 2 Euros.

He tells me as I am leaving… “until we meet again!” ,

as if he will miss me until then.

If this wasn’t a positive confirmation from the Universe, I don’t know what is! Every writer needs to believe what he is doing is worthy and that he or she herself is worthy and writing something write-worthy.

What am I writing?

Things like:

Imagine yourself on a boat on a river,

or being stuck in a tangerine tree with a Marmalade stranger, a dirty serial killer in France, in his car, on a long drive through his killing fields…

or you seeing a ghost face to face who popped out of your Belgian hotel closet at 3 a.m., explaining his suicide the week before…Piss running down your leg.

or living your life as plant…

or being delivered to a German psychiatric Hospital suddenly

or looking back on youth and realizing the happiest moments were of lying in bed on one Saturday morning with my dog, feeling warm, feeling free, untroubled and secure.

Looking for ghosts in Prague, Czech Republic. Time travel in the hotel elevator there. Exotic smells and spells

-all true and labile

(adj) readily undergoing change or breakdown.

Chapter 1

Qu’est-ce Que C’est?

Life is hard,

life is strange,

life is ugly,

and so beautiful…

The End

No sorry, this is not the end, let me begin 28 years ago...

My extremely weird encounter happened in France.

It did leave an emotional scar on me. One doesn’t end up in a psychiatric hospital without a long list of psychic scars, but this was a big one.

I obviously lived to tell the tale and here is the tale:

I was a painter an artist and in 1990 and I was hitching from Leipzig, Germany to Paris to pick up some paintings from my small art show that had just ended there. My encounter happened with a French man I met at a French gas station. I was searching for a ride to Paris. He was there and I simply asked if he could give me a ride as close to Paris as possible. He didn’t smile but he did say yes. I couldn’t afford a bus or train. It was October, 1990. It was the last time I ever hitchhiked.

***

I was 29 years old and he seemed about the same age.

He looked a bit shabby and his old car was rather messy inside. He spoke only some broken English, and I unfortunately didn’t speak any French at all.

The day was mild, sunny and French blue. It was a warm and comfortable European day; a great day to hitch hike and venture out into the unknown with a goal of reaching the majestic city of Paris before nightfall.

He was unbeknownst to me a serial killer, and on the way to Paris we took a "short cut" into the forest. Deep inside he stopped.

True story. .See full story in this blog...

CONTINUED…..