It was Patrick’s raven. For years, it was sitting in front of Patrick’s window, calling loudly when it was hungry. Patrick fed it and tamed it. He got to learn about the raven’s preferences – the raven adored sausage. And if Patrick gave it something else to eat, the clever bird flew away and returned with the rest of old sausage and dropped it on Patrick’s window pane. Just to show what it wants. It also adored Mozart – when Patrick played Mozart, the bird entered the apartment and started dancing, making funny moves with its head. During summers, Patrick placed a bog bowl of water outside of his window and the raven would enjoy its swimming pool. Minka and Marcus, who both live beneath Patrick, often complained that the raven shits on their terraces, but we all loved the bird. It became a part of the Laudonplace family.
And then few months ago, we were eating brunch in Patrick’s place as we heard the birds screaming outside. We ran to the window – to see Patrick’s raven having sex. Patrick was extremely shocked because for years, he was sure that his raven was a female. Now we all knew that it definitely was not.
And then the raven and his girlfriend started building a nest. They built a nest on the big tree in front of my window. My desk is placed in front of the window so while I was working on my book and my articles, I looked at them working on their nest. I liked them more each day. I watched them fight with too big branches and trying to break them into manageable pieces. The ravens often made me contemplate life and how simple it actually is and that it is nothing but a question of survival and creating new generations. They made me think about what is really important in life. Was all this philosophical bullshit I was typing into my computer really important? Shouldn’t I also rather be building a nest with someone?
They built a fantastic nest surprisingly quickly. I continued working and they continued coming and going until one always stayed in the nest. It was clear that they protected their eggs. Few weeks ago, as my mom was here we noticed little birds’ heads peaking out of the nest. Laudonplace family grew and we were all happy about it.
Few nights ago, we had a big storm. I watched the nest and thought about how poor their little lives are. They were sitting in a wet nest, fighting the freezing wind and hoping not to get blown away. The following night was also stormy. I had troubles sleeping and at one point, I heard a bird scream in pain. And than something crashing on the ground. I knew a bird was dead. I just hoped it was not ours. Next morning, I told Marcus about the horror of the night before. He told me that that morning, there was a horrible scene in the court yard – it seems that one of the ravens fell and the neighbour’s dogs were attacking it. And then the other raven came and tried to protect its partner. The neighbour saw this and tried to scare the raven away with a broom. It was clear: one must have fell in a storm. The other got hurt while trying to protect it from the dogs and that was the one I heard die in the following night.
Today is the first day that the nest is empty. I have no clue what happened to the little ones.
I still hope that maybe, I am just inventing the whole thing and the whole family is on holidays in Burgenland.
Fuck life.
What I read and what I don’t
Sunday, May 10th, 2009I was asked by a very cool Austrian magazine called Datum to fill out their monthly column called “I do read & I don’t read”. Seems like an easy task, but when you start thinking about it, it is quite a challenge.
I read
I read books that open my horizons: which I can either learn something from or which transport me into a (better) new world. Mostly, I read non-fiction, and always a few books about one topic that currently occupies my mind. Right now, I am still reading books about fairy tales (Marie-Louise von Franz and Sheldon Cashdan). I just finished reading Iranian female authors (Marjane Satrapi and Azar Nafisi). Before that, I was reading about the influence of the capitalistic system on romantic relationships and human character (Eva Illouz and Richard Sennett). But I always read a few different books. So I am currently also reading “Elite” by Julia Friedrichs, a young German journalist writing about what/who is the German elite and how it is being defined and formed. I am starting to read Eric Berne’s “What do you say after you say hello?”. I don’t read much fiction because it is quite hard for me to find a piece of fiction that grabs, and keeps, my attention. When I do find something I like, I read a few books by the same author. I adore Jane Austin for her virtuosity with language, for her hidden critique of the society and for her happy endings. I read all her books. I like Frédéric Beigbeder, also for the amusing portrait and critique of the society. I read most of his books. I also read most of Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s books. And I loved books by Jonathan Carroll. The last master piece of non-fiction I read was Mesa Selimovic’s “Fortress”. The only book I re-read is Lao-Tzu’s Tao Te Ching
And then I read magazines: Falter, Spiegel, Die Zeit. On weekends, I read Der Standard. Every now and then, I make a trip through internet and read The Daily Beast, Huffington Post and Newsweek.
When I want to relax my grey cells, I read Gloria (Croatian gossip magazine) or Gala.
I read my horoscope on www.astro.com. I read Maureen Dowd’s column in New York Times, I read the weather forecast on pg. 602 on Teletext. I read user manuals and package inserts. I read graffiti and stickers when I walk through Vienna. I read e-mails. I read my friends’ status on Facebook.
And I read the tattoo between his shoulder blades.
I don’t read
As said, I don’t read much non-fiction because mostly, it just feels like I am wasting time I could use to learn or experience something new. I don’t read chick-lit, historic novels, romantic novels.
I used to read British Vogue, and sometimes Croatian or French Elle but I stopped because they bore me now. So I don’t read any women’s magazines. I don’t read daily newspapers because I have no time – I check news in internet. I never read the same book twice. I don’t read ads. I don’t read the credits after a movie as much as I’d like to. I don’t read self-help books, because they are either too simplified or repeat theories I’ve already learned elsewhere. I wanted to read Charlotte Roche’s “Feuchtgebiete” to see what the fuss is about but then I read readers’ feedback on Amazon and decided not to. Which, as I heard her read from the book on 3sat, proved to be a good decision. Shocking just for the purpose of it is not necessary. Neither in art nor in literature.
I have unfortunately not read the Bible nor the Koran, which I would love to, but I haven’t found the time yet. I read the Gnostic gospels of Nag Hammadi and they spell bounded me. I’d like to read more of Marcel Proust, Tolstoy and Chekhov so I plan to go back to them one day. My father gave me a collection of English gothic novels, but I didn’t get to read those yet. I don’t read enough of Austrian authors, which I feel I should.
I don’t read the small print (AGBs) and I know I should.
And nothing else comes on my mind. Because I simply don’t.
Link: Datum
Tags: Book, Commentary, Literature, Personal
Posted in General | No Comments »