Jetztzeit

Reality-Check: die Gegenwart in Wort und Bild

Netzzeit

Geschichten aus dem Leben mit dem Netz

Sexklinik

Alle Zeit bereit: Quality Time zum Thema Nummer Eins

Auszeit

Kultur & Freiheit: Doping zur Bewältigung des Alltags

Denkzeit

Die Welt ist kompliziert. Reden wir darüber

Sie sind hier: Home » Girl Friday – the Book of Bad » Girl Friday – the Book of Bad 01. Bliss
Share

Gabbi WernerGirl Friday – the Book of Bad 01. Bliss

Von | 29.03.2013, 9:00 | Kein Kommentar

About three years ago I had booked a hotelroom for me and My Love. I know where your thoughts are going, but …

Welcome. To the stories I told in many hotelrooms. To a man who had trouble falling asleep. A business deal, men usually pay for different services in hotelrooms. He just paid for my words. Here they are.

*

Hotelroom 01. Bliss.

„About three years ago I had booked a hotelroom for me and My Love. I know where your thoughts are going, but: no. It is not the carnal bliss that I can see you think I mean. The happiness I experienced is something very different.

At two o clock in the afternoon I checked in at the Park Hotel in The Hague. At first, things seemed to go terribly and utterly wrong: I had specifically asked for a room with a bath. The staff at the hotel, however, had tried to convince me a room with a shower would be sufficient.

It was, of course, not.

Bliss came the moment I demanded my room with the bath, and got it. My Love would not arrive until night, so I had hours to myself.

Most important thing was the bath. With bubbles. The bathroom was bigger than the bedroom, about 25 square meters. It was made of a whitish grey marble, floors as well as walls. With the exception of four white towels, two pieces of handmade soap, three bottles of bathfoam, shampoo and body lotion, the bathroom was completely empty. The only available light came from a greenish neon tube above one of the mirrors. The whole atmosphere was numb.

As I let myself sink into the tub (after having it filled with hot water, that goes without saying), I got the feeling I had ended up in some sort  of morgue. It was all so chilly, so cold, so desolate, impersonal. There was absolute quiet. The only sound I would occasionally hear was the pouring of the hot water flowing into my bath. I felt dead. But not in a bad way. This was sort of The Waitingroom for Afterlife to me.

After weeks and months and days of turmoil and hard work this total lack of stimuli turned out to be the one thing that made me happy.

Just before I had gone to the hotel I had bought a small box of very expensive chocolate in the town centre.

Having finished my two hour bathing session, which consisted of letting cold water out, adding hot water, a little bit more bathfoam, washing my hair, shaving my legs, one more round of fresh hot water;  I made myself a cup of tea and lay down on the bed. A typical luxury business hotel kind of bed it was. Clean sheets, two bedstands with identical lights on each side of the bed, and of course the obligatory bible.

I had closed all the curtains as soon as I had gone into the room. There was no light in the room anymore, but for the eerie green light coming from the bathroom, that grey mortuary hall. I lay on the bed, sometimes forcing myself to make a decision between the various chocolates to be put into my mouth next.

That was all there was, except the thought that I had never in my life had done such a remarkably well purchase as the acquisition of four hours of complete nothing.

It was then that I decided I would more often spend money on lonely hotelrooms……“

*

He sighs. „So you like being dead?“

„No, I very much like it to be alive, it is just that sometimes I feel this urge to disappear from being me, to evade from myself, my past, my future.“

Saying it to him out loud makes me feel stupid. But he smiles.

„Can I have a cigarette too?“

„I thought you are a non smoker.“

„I am, but maybe this is the small death I indulge in.“

I give him a cigarette, light it for him.

„Was my story ok, are you relaxed?“

„A little, but it is a bit of a short story. Tell me one more.“

To be continued. Next friday. Every friday.

Link zur deutschen Übersetzung: auf Girl Friday – Buch des Bösen 01. Wunschlos klicken.

Artwork: Gabbi Werner

Kommentare sind geschlossen.

ZiB21 sind: unsere Blogger