12 texts, based on dreams,

referred to the places where they appeared,

and video stills

of the work "o.t. (eintischisteintisch)", translated “w.t. (atableisatable)”

the work exists in german and in english,

translation dinka souzek, regina kelaita, audrey ng,

isolt winkler,

english version 11 min  

2004

a friend of mine invited me

to a tower restaurant in paris,

he liked my ass so much,

that he wanted to roast it.

he said, i should sit down

in a clay pot,

and he started spooning sauce over me.

but i didn`t really fit,

the pot wouldn`t close.

i also didn`t know, which friend it was

- he didn`t make himself known.

i only knew,

he was a cook,

and a guest in the restaurant as well.

there was no solution for this situation.

i played little erotic games

with a guy.

timidly i pulled

the skin over his head,

then he pulled

tickling

the skin over my whole body.

i was in an enormous space.

as i wept,

the entire space flew through my eyes.

at the health resort

i was the youngest -

but who knows how old, really.

the old ladies wearing swim caps

decorated with floppy rubber flowers

were floating

through the jelly of thick air.

i wanted to get out,

pack my suitcase.

i had to gather my things among the women

- very slowly.

there were people

their heads sounded strong.

or maybe they were taken off scalps -

the upper halves.

they sounded orange.

and the tune was:

time

is an ocean

of endless tears.

i was forgotten at the kitchen table.

so i just sat there.

it smelled like fish

in standing oil.

i think, i masturbated.

at the congress

they speculated.

i was in thick yellow rooms

that sometimes changed

to a blueish flight to france.

i stared after

a white cat, a male one,

then the rooms turned white.

a friend of mine was sitting on an oval frame

on the wall.

he was giving advice to the white

and then it got whiter.

somethimes someone broke in

or peed

that didn't matter to the rooms,

they dealt with it professionally.

the clown got killed

he had turned on the machine

the one he always works with,

at the large town square.

he had pushed the wrong button

and got pulled in

by the suction,

into the part that burns

in clouds of sulphur

and draws it all up to the crane.

that's what happened to him.

all i could do was scream.

he was my only friend

in the whole big city.

i drew white lines

below the crane

by the pedestrian crossing

on the street,

so that the cars wouldn't pass,

so i could sit there and mourn,

or

anyone could sit there and mourn,

but he was just my friend

in the whole cold city.

human figures

stuck in the walls slanted.

the fishman

had a fish

instead of a head.

i didn’t want to pass by there

i didn’t want to change,

didn’t want to have to change.

but then you didn’t notice much

that you were cathegorized.

sometimes the floor shook.

then i got skared.

a document

on a very large scroll,

elephants had to carry it.

it was my project

i tried to take it down somewhere,

i looked for a place, where i could keep it.

i looked for the tools to take it down

- so it could be read -

the lamps, the stairs so one could climb up

i haven't found them yet, the tools,

not one of them.

but i have settled down

were i was.

a gossip let us in

into the new apartment

in the new city.

she knew to tell us about

a friend of a friend

who was looking for a place to stay.

the new apartment would be too big though

for my fiance and me.

it was an eagle-owl,

thick and odd

in his life habits.

someone had torn him out of his natural environment.

the eagle-owl came

as weird old woman

with a headscarf.

there were grasshoppers,

everywhere,

they sat like finely carved crib figures in a line,

they had come together.

at some point they started playing like a string choir,

fiddling the halleluja

it was wonderful.

- if they hadn't been stamped to death already.

video stills of ‘o.t. eintischisteintisch’