un-eben/on shaky grounds

CIMG3720

Das Regal. Irgendetwas, irgendetwas war da falsch. War es die Anordnung der Bücher? Zuerst das rote, dann das dicke, dann das längliche oder doch umgekehrt? Oder das Foto, lieber rechts statt links? Sie stand auf, schaute genauer hin. Schief. Das Regal war schief. Und das nachdem ihre Freunde, die ihr beeim Umzug geholfen hatten, gegangen waren. Und das Wekzeug mitgenommen hatten. Sie seufzte. Und setzte sich wieder hin. Versuchte sich wieder auf das Essen zu konzentrieren. Vergeblich. Es ging nicht. Immer wieder blickte sie zum Regal. Es juckte sie in den Fingern. Sie hasste Un-ordnung, Un-ebenheit, vielleicht alles mit einem Un- am Anfang. Alles was nicht in das Bild passte, das sie sich gemacht hatte.

Wie dieser Zollbeamte, der jetzt vor ihr steht. 1,80 groß, schwarze Haare, professioneller Blick. Und ein Schweißband um den linken Unterarm. Während er ihr Paket durchsucht – irgendein im Internet besteller und durch die Welt gereister Mist – fällt ihr Blick immer wieder auf dieses Schweißband. Wann hat sie zuletzt ein Schweißband gesehen? In irgendwelchen Filmen über die 80er? Es passt nicht zu ihm, defintiv.

Gedanken rasen. Hat er sich operieren lassen, wie Yvonne/Balian Buschbaum, und eigentlich ist er eine sie, und das Schweißband verdeckt eine Narbe? Wie ihre Gedanken rasen, rast auch ihr Blick. Von oben nach unten, und zurück. Er scheint nichts zu merken. Aber die Überwachungskamera dort oben, defintiv schauen die am Computer schon, weil sie so komisch guckt. Er kann doch keine Frau sein. So sexy wie der ist. Und was stimmt eigentlich nicht mit ihr, weil sie sich über das Schweißband so aufregt?

Der im Internet bestellte Mist stand jetzt im Keller der alten Wohnung.

Und der Zollbeamte hat vielleicht einfach nur ein Tattoo, das er verdecken muss.

Das Regal war jedenfalls immer noch schief.

Und störte sie.

****

The shelf. Something, something was wrong with the shelf. Maybe the way she had ordered the books? First the red one, then the bigger one, and then the even bigger one? Or maybe the photo-frame, better left than right? She stood up, had a closer look. Askew. The shelf was completely askew. And this after her friends, who had helped her moving into the new flat, had left. With all the tools. She sighed. And sat down. Tried to concentrate on the plate of food on the table. Didn’t work. Her gaze returned to the shelf. Her fingers started playing on the table. She hated everything un-even, un-correct, maybe everything starting with an un-. Everything that didn’t work with into the frame that she had formed in her mind.

Like the customs official who now stands in front of her. 1,80 metres tall, black hair, professional gaze. And a sweatband on his left arm. While he checks her parcel – some bullshit ordered online and travelled around the world – her gaze always returns to the sweatband. When was the last time she saw one? In a movie from the 80ies? He doesn’t fit on him, for sure.

Thoughts race. Was he operated, as Yvonne/Balian Buschbaum, the former female pole vaulter, and actually he is a she, and the sweatband covers a scar? As her thoughts face, does her gaze. From the top downwards, and back. He doesn’t seem to notice. But the surveillance camera up the wall, for sure the officiers on the pc already watch because she looks this strange. He can’t be a woman. Sexy as he is. And what is actually wrong with her, caring so much about this sweatband?

The bullshit she had ordered online now stood in the basement of her former flat.

And the customs official maybe has a tattoo that he needs to cover at work.

The shelf was still askew.

What turned her insane.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Fiction, Outside and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

14 Responses to un-eben/on shaky grounds

  1. Dhyan says:

    mmm. a real story

    nice. I like it.

  2. Dhyan says:

    I thought they were the same.
    I have struggled more with the German version, obviously. I think I would rework some lines in the English one, but it can be a matter of choice. Of preferences.

    It seems all a bit of thought stream flow and I am not sure completely how the outer story is connected to the inner one apart of that stream of thought.

    • thanks for the feedback
      the idea was that she suddenly remembers the story with the guy; that she’s so into her “order-thing”

      • Dhyan says:

        ey.

        why that guy? why this moment? why now?
        why moving apartments?

        These questions I ask myself and am not getting the answer.
        I am not sure there need to be one, but I ask this to my self when I was reading and I still wonder. Have you left this unanswered on purpose, is it not important or is it irrelevant?

        this questions too doesn’t necessary need an answer

      • there’s not really a sense; the story with the shelf and the story with the guy have in common that she feels irritated, annoyed by some chaos, instead of feeling lucky or stable

  3. Dhyan says:

    I’ll say honestly because that’s why we are here for.

    I think you have all the ingredients and your cake is looking very good
    but when you eat it it isn’t so stable inside. It tastes good but, at least I am not wholly sure is there, You could rework it to bind together better; stability and change, (inner ?) irritation rising on the background of tiny things, the thought/mind jumping around on similar matters (which is working, I think)

    My thoughts, you know you could always tell me to shut up, ge?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s