As you might or might not know, I am re-watching the whole X-Files series at the moment. I’ve started some two weeks ago with the very first episode, when Scully’s hair was at its longest and Mulder sprays the green X on the street in the middle of the forest in Oregon.
I loved this series when I was young. I was and still am rather unimpressed by the later seasons (7–9) because of all this baby William business and the two new agents.

Today I started one of the season two episodes, D.P.O. (starring a young Jack Black – this was 1995! and, apparently “the guy from Avatar” (which I’ve never seen).

And there it was. THE song. And I remembered. This episode was the reason I bought James’ Best Of Album “Fresh As A Daisy”.

And there was the memory. The memory of me, trying to understand the lyrics, the few words you can actually hear being sung in the episode, googling the fragments of text and finally whispering “James” and grinning because the band’s name is the same as I use to call my best friend.

It’s just such an uplifting song in a way. For me it’s a sign, a symbol for breaking free, letting go of old stuff, the image that is forming in my head is that of a person breaking out from inside of a statue, stretching their arms and legs and unfolding their wings.

I’ve walked this earth for years, thinking Getting Away With It (All Messed Up) had been the first song by James that I ever heard when it had been this one all along.

{I found an mp3 of me singing getting away with it (all messed up)… which you will never get to hear. :-p}

Don’t you just love those moments in life when you suddenly remember the first time you heard a song or smelled a certain smell? The first time you stumbled upon a particular word?
I certainly do!

This is not the end, a new beginning!

Ring, ring the bells
Wake the town
Everyone is sleeping
Shout at the crowd
Wake them up
This anger’s deeper than sleep
Got to keep awake to what is happening
I can’t see a thing through my ambition,
I no longer feel my God is watching over me
Got to tell the world we’ve all been dreaming
This is not the end, a new beginning
I no longer feel my God is watching over me

Break, break the code
Concentrate
Let the doors swing open
See through all your walls
All your floors
Now you’re in deeper than sleep

Got to keep awake to what is happening
I can’t see a thing through my ambition,
I no longer feel my God is watching over me
Got to tell the world we’ve all been dreaming
This is not the end, a new beginning
I no longer feel my God is watching over me

When you let me fall
Grew my own wings
Now I’m as tall as the sky
When you let me drown
Grew gills and fins
Now I’m as deep as the sea
When you let me die
My spirit’s free
There’s nothing challenging me

Vor ziemlich genau einem Jahr hat mein Grossvater seinen Kindern einen Brief und seine eigene Todesanzeige geschickt.
Der Brief begann mit «erschreckt nicht, wenn ihr meine Todesanzeige erhaltet…»

Und trotzdem sind vor einer Woche alle erschrocken, als die Nachricht seines Todes sie erreichte.

Hier ist das Gedicht, das wir nun nach seinem Wunsch als Todesanzeige verschicken:

Etwas endete, und was ist dabei.
Was ist dir, warum verlierst du den Mut.
Hab keine Angst, das macht nichts.
Hier endet es, dort beginnt es.
Es wurde Nacht . . .
Der Sonne ging der Weg zu Ende,
und sie schleppt an den Füssen die Nebel.
Was ist dir. Das macht nichts.
Hier wird es Nacht, dort wird es Tag.
Etwas endete, und was ist dabei.

Moris Pozchischwili, georgischer Dichter

{♥ ♥ ♥}

Die dauerfressende Mitpassagierin (erst Apfel, dann Zwetschgen, dann m&ms), die sich trotz freien Abteilen rundherum zuerst mir gegenüber und dann direkt neben mich setzte, nervte mich derart, dass ich nicht nur das Abteil, sondern gleich den Wagen wechselte.

Manchmal ertrag’ ich solches Zeug einfach nicht. Und hey, ich hab das immerhin zwanzig Minuten ausgehalten, war selber ganz überrascht!

(der Mann hier schräg gegenüber hat ein massives Augenbrauenproblem. Die wandern dauernd hoch und runter.)

Lese Sven Regeners Logbücher. Leserei färbt immer auf meinen Schreibstil ab. Schlimm!