Göttingen – Sofija Popovska & Jasper Schlaffer

“He continued”

by Jasper Schlaffer

for Sophia

from the sewers of academia with love

“All I wanted to tell her” he continued “Was that it was really nice we did that

together. I could count the blissful days of my life” he continued

“on three hands

But I only have two. The facts of life” he continued “Is life is hard

on everybody. Ok.

And some live with disabilities or diabetes or some shit. Ok.

Also comes in durations of time. I mean” he continued “I am a sincere and caring person” He

continued “for like 1 or 2 hours at a time.

The hardness as well” he continued “Comes in intervals

So for once it’s not” he continued

“and you can’t tell anybody. Not even

I’ve had.” He continued “About 3 decent conversations the last couple of months

2 of them drunk. I’d be an alcoholic by now.” He continued “If I didn’t have to change bed-

once every 4 weeks. Hand me the lighter” He continued “Please,

hang me out to dry” He continued “Also low key afraid of choking

on my own vomit, but that’s negligible.” He continued

“It’s hard to give a shit these days.” He continued “Need a boat-load of belief to get by

But they clogged up the Suez-canal again, ha” He continued “Society in the last tragic

of its farcical congested Elvis-existence. The show is over” He continued “and the spotlight

is flickering.” he continued “It really is hard to give a shit these days.” He continued

“God, I hate having funny thoughts for myself….” He continued

Economy’s on my nerves again. It’s Bad” He continued “Yes bad…

“To the people who say” He continued “I’m talking about myself too much: Imagine” He continued

“Being alone with that guy for extended periods of time.”

“Anyway, that same morning” He continued “And it is one of those same mornings, I think of that

night and her. I went home from her place and sit at last by the window-sill and a cold wind

right through my empty head and the reminiscing makes me oh so reverent.”

“Some people” He continued “think I don’t have my faculties together. I think” He continued

“I have worked on that impression for years. I could have been an actor” He continued

“Who knows? Could have hit the big time. Could still pull it off…. I don’t know.

As a matter of fact” He continued “Nobody knows anything. That is a fact. Believe me” he

continued “I wanna be hit over the head sometimes” He continues

“But who’s supposed to hit me?” He continued

He continued

He continued

“Birdwatching: Greenfinch” by Sofija Popovska

For J.S. Thanks for showing me some nice tits1.

“And there, you see, at the top of the tree,” he says, “a greenfinch.”

A green flash of smile was filched from the eye — and into the gathering clouds,

A hurricane readies itself.

And opposite — the boor joys of the bourgeois drinking coffee. The square slips under a plastic
bag hovering amidst gray midges.

I savor a brief midget joy; all that can be got in the town

Suspended on the margin of a thought.

It was past noon when the square begot

Squires, rushing into the papier-mâché routes

Of after-work life. Change scene!

A hallway of toilets, rags; each door opens to let

A small being into its square. He lets blood into his painting

With borrowed paint, with much ceremony,

And decorates pain that has been decorously televised,

With a crushed-up tea-set.

Sitting on the walls are fragments of notes — but my eyes slip on them and refuse

The text. Change scene!

Now alone,

I am left with the nascent green, returned to me with a light conscience; a branch slips a fresh
leaf into my hand like a crisp note.

The earth, conscious of her gifts, is confident,

Light-minded even, when she takes from me.

[1] The bird.