The Hoarder EP2- Letters, Song, Memories

Everyone took off. The team went back the way they came and left in their well-deserved time out. Armed by the inspiration of her dream the night before, she wondered what her team did during that time. She could only guess. They probably filled up with liquid spirit- booze those in the spirit sworn. And that without an energizer, which hypes up so benevolent and to give wings.
Everyone was all set again to clarify the “matter” and in any case, Tina has actually brought her shooting gun- for children on the beach to play waterspitting. Not a real armament but in the world of thought quite effective. The door to the House is open, this already is a very good sign, she thinks, so we can proceed with get it out and throw it away- rid yourself from all of your burden. Looking after the resident Tina winds her way on the cleared path towards the living room where she had watched him yesterday so immersed in himself. Today she found him somewhat hesitantly in the middle of the room, plucking on the guitar and singing with a breathy baritone voice a song. Bobo is very thin and relatively large, has a full white beard with a long braided pigtail. His eyes are watery blue and grayish, blury at the edges of the pupil. Staring on the letters lying around him, she immediately saw what happened. The harassed has catapulted himself on a carpet of letters, painted with large handwriting from the past, into a twirling mind on the way. Tina also reads one of these letters lying around just out of curiosity, from which she could not unleash herself.

My dearest friend in Paris! (Elsewhere, everywhere)
Today I came back home and it has done me well not to have seen Mainz. I’ve only missed your letters- now I have three at once! Why were you so depressed on the day you left? I can really only explain that you have too many ideals in mind. I admire you and wonder at the same time, how the reality in your twenty-year life hasn’t flayed you enough to take away your dreams. Since you were here, I caught myself, you’ve helped me, you helped me truly a lot and now you can stop worrying about me. I say this not to calm you down, it’s true and I said this before, you know, I don’t in general make a big fuzz about feelings.If I yet express them, it will be the full truth and need no further explanations. I want to write much more to you, but somehow I can’t, because in half an hour Gretel will be arriving here at the train station. My heart beats up to the neck, my knees are soft, can’t keep no right or left thought. As far as I can, I’m going to write you about all that happened- I do think anyway all the time of you, than Gretel and again you. When shall I actually work? Don’t be angry that I can’t write more.
until soon your S.


While Tina sympathetically reads and interprets at the same time, she hears the resident playing in the background on the guitar. Echoing not so bad in her head; sounds like the legendary smoky voice of Elvis Castello. She shifts her attention from the reading and listens to:

He lost his situation and hanging upside down, got stuck behind her back. His brain’s like scrambled eggs, his dick the deadest place. She’s no one’s sick and tired. It’s her, who made it over the fence. She doesn’t have to overdo this nonsense. It’s her who got a new ride on the living side -she lost the ownerless shadow got a new situation it’s her chance.

The chorus changes the mood of the song and picks up pace. Syncope and small rhythmic beats on the guitar underline the text- she understands well enough. Surprised and visibly impressed by the unusuall, subtle representation of the now situation in which twirling Bobo’s imaginary carpet of hand written letters sends him to

He can’t find his way back to the other side, gone crazy got stuck behind her back. He’s in a darkroom afraid without connection, sees the illuminating reflection, won back some orientation. He’s inside a camera obscura darkness falls. He knows he’s a far away eye of the beholder, takes a peek upside down and the wrong way around. He needs to stay away, live on the other side. He can’t find his way back to the other side, gone crazy got stuck behind her back :I

Whether her unconsciousness responded or she just could not breastfeed her curiosity enough, is hard to say. Anyway, she’s already holding the next letter in her fingers:

My dear friend, uff!
I just came from Marburg, while I stayed in Mainz on Saturday, Tuesday in Amsterdam. Where is my head? Stupid question, in Cologne and Marburg of course, because the two favorite people live here. Don’t be jealous, you’re my love that changes nothing and no one.
You’re a treasure with your beautiful writing paper, I was downright jealous of the two women, Wooh you. Why must it be two? It’s OK that you believe in women. Can you exploit them, actually? Bit by bit, I think that’s what a man can do with a woman- take advantage of them. Not only of their femininity, all above of their helplessness in love affairs. Yes. Women are as children, I’m telling you.
What I like so much about you is that you, as a man can feel weak too and showing strength by openly admitting, not fearing anxiety being on exposure. That is also strength. But can you imagine that Gretel, my divine Gretel, can’t decide, not because she is selfish and is rather in love with 2 women. No, she is actually completely helpless. She knows nothing and is counting on time and space to save the problem. I made it clear that she is relying on the other, on decisions made by me or Lola, which is more sad for her than for us, since she is the one foreign determined. She knows that, but when I said it out loud, she was sulky and hurt for hours, silent like a fish. Psychological terror in conversations that turned like a carousel all night long. I did’t want to demand her to make a decision, I rather wanted to help her. When I told her what she already knew and I had revealed myself to her, one thing that is very difficult for me to do with girls, she apparently felt pressed and yelled some sentences at me. Icy coldness the end of our relationship in words that were dressed in insults. Only a few more sentences, then silence. I was thinking that only myself has forfeited our relationship, although I actually didn’t know why. I laid like a stone placed there and her- seemingly hours lasting, averted face, a lack of feelings. There were minutes only of tears. I felt how they ran over my face. I love you, I love you. I need you but. As in a dream, I have gratefully accepted these words and I believed them, then. What did you expect otherwise but a sting remaining. In the deepest and darkest place of my head, I hardly dare write this, but one of these days, he will say these words so easily to Lola. No, she loves this woman very much, and I think it’s quite certain that it would be possible for them, to separate, without I having to force – I’m pretty sure of this. Your dearest S

Thoughtful she puts the letter back at the point where she picked it up. With a modified view she quickly grasped that she needed to pitch in her modest but compact psychological talent to master unwelcome situations. Let him pluck away and sing. I will decrypt this picture, with severe memory, like a lake of stubborn hope. Where he had gone to on the other side, she will not follow him. It’s not her time and space. She intuitively tilted her head slightly, let it fall in her neck, trying to untangle the ends of what she just read. Burning wounds from the past. A man loves a woman, who is in love with a woman, who loves another woman. It will not get simpler. Boy oh boy, Tina ponders. She didn’t like these letters in the first place, especially reading them while seeing Bobo, who provoked her interest at the other end of the room. A strong arm pushes Tina aside. The matter must be settled. We will dispose, no questions, the systemic- analysis will have to wait. Back with feet in the mess of things she gives instructions on what needs to be done next. “There in the corner, what is that”? Clipboards, which could also serve as firewood, get rid of them. Best you don’t mind Bobo, leave him to himself.
Wait a second, Tina is thinking, her gesture is clear. She puts her left arm underneath her breasts, leaning her body to the other side, supporting the elbow of the right arm with the hand. She positions the right leg forward like a ballerina would and leans back a little. The night laid in full size around the House, the stars were exceptionally bright, leaving a slightly trembling trail in the sky. The team jointly decided to light a bonfire and burn everything that looked like wood. On one side some of the team members with a beer in hands. Tina standing with the very strongest guy, Tony, holding each other and staring into the licking flames, feverish red glowing faces, such as fire fighters holding the position. Immediately the limbs warmed up. When the fire turned in an ash glowing pile, Tina got a little dizzy. I didn’t drink beer, Tina thinks to herselfe. In the background the rough voice of the Hoarder –a hip hop like tune- waves spread in the dark. Seen from the outside one could witness a romantic meeting of people, nothing lead to the assumption that this demonstrates a key scene, no one really understood at that time. By now, everyone had made plans for the next day. With new insight and calmness, no one was aware of the singing in the background anymore, they went back into the House. The words were clear, he sang the same song over again:

I’m not one of those rich type of people
I’m not a fortune maker
It’s the moment that counts:II
All I give for love
Are words to play?
Words to play!

I keep my head over water and out of the clouds
I’m not a borderline type taker
It’s the moment that counts.
All I have are hidden secret boundaries
Some hidden boundaries

Don’t need anybodies traces in my black box
I’m not an empty mind faker
It’s the moment that counts
No need for love drooping eyes
Any lovers eyes?

I’m not a fortune maker
Mam no fortunes
All I give for love
Are words to play?
Mam words to play!

I’ll keep it all easy upside-down
I’m not the wrong way around
It’s the moment that counts.:II
I’ll give my sunshine heart
Sunshine to your heart!

I’m just waiting for that right kind of swinging
I’m painless bubbly sexy stuff
It’s the moment that counts.:II
I’ll whisper cherry blossoms in her ear
Sweetest Shivers up her spine

I’m not a fortune maker
Mam no fortunes
All I give for love
Are words to play?

The evening came to an end and there was nothing more to do in the House. They said goodbye equipped with left over heat from the campfire. Tina herself felt still somewhat of a dizziness. Bobo was left back alone.

Arriving home Tina tried to sort the lyrics she just heard, depicting a not seldom occurring phenomenon, into what happened today. Melancholical mirth, hand in hand with a precarious situation and this leads to the view that only love counts. In popular words: It’s what comes around at bottom line. Love without money! Already on the way to her car, which she has driven for several years now, Tina realized that a seed of worthlessness got stuck in his soul. But even if he had enough money to prove the value of his love, it wouldn’t have changed the present constellation; Man loves a woman who loves another women, nothing satisfying could have come about. That’s most likely the reason for the benighted ride on wild waters and the beginning of Hoarder life and all of this to escape his failures. There is more sea. The people’s motivating power is will, she concludes, which leads directly to the suffering of our consciousness, if the goals are not achieved. For every desire of wishing there are insatiable subconscious drives, helping to make available what man desires. The constant temptation but never fulfilled, broke him apart and lead to his Hoarder existence. Tina assumes that Bobo probably never was bored, but there was no incentive because his love would be denied to him anyway. All efforts to find gratification for his courageous, daring ventures to raise money, to enhance his value, failed. His reward, which let him forget his apparent worthlessness sucked him into a mess-up.

Tina looks very attentive in the mirror and focuses while she put all together. She is aware that there is not a minute to waste, nor can she get careless or slow in such difficult situations. The thread must be analyzed constantly in the flow of events. Am I the one that’s dressing up just now? Are these my teeth? Of course! Who elses? If she sometimes felt painful, she knew this was due to an error. She thought she was someone other than Tina. She was in the other person and complained his mischief: For example, for the musician who has no audience and yet can barely breathe, because his entire House is stuffed with instruments, or for other people who are working on similar misery. She knows it’s not her, its foreign debris she picked up on – the garment that she wore a while and then traded off against another one.