Stupefy!

I have been reading a lot of Yaoi in the last two, three months. Too much maybe, because it seems that my brain is affected. Over Christmas I have been watching the first five Harry Potter movies with my husband and while I always enjoyed that, I never had as much fun as this time when my brain started grouping the story characters into yaoi couples. Here's my favourite couples. The alltime winner would be Draco Malfoy/Ron Weasley. Followed by Sirius/Lupin. And Serverus Snape/Harry Potter. And Lucius Malfoy/Sirius Black seemed another interesting combination ...

My husband thinks I have finally started my mental decline, a rapid journey to dementia. But I found that I am not alone. There's plenty of Harry Potter-Yaoi-fan fiction and Harry Potter-yaoi-graphic fan work out there. Their favourite couples seem to be Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter and Lucius Malfoy/Severus Snape and Snarry (obviously Snape/Harry).

I think, after you read a lot of yaoi, many people (and I don't exclude myself here) get a bit addicted to it. What I find so fascinating about yaoi is that it has a better chance of breaking the settled rules of romance, it's often less kitshy while still dealing primarily with romance. It's like you get your favourite childhood dish served in a new style. Refreshing. Intoxicating. And addictive.
After a while you turn everything into yaoi. Frodo/Gollum. Aragorn/Legolas. Mozart/Salieri. Mr. Darcy/Mr. Bingley. Goethe/Schiller. Mark Anthony/Gaius Julius Ceasar. Sherlock Holmes/Dr. Watson. L and Light Yagami (both from the Death Note Manga). Once the yaoi virus has infected your brain cells, there's no stopping them. Nothing is sacred, nothing is spared, neither members of the church or politicians, for every man in the news there seems to be a perfect uke or seme waiting just around the corner to complete him.

It's not porn ... it's art!

I am still enjoying my yaoi phase and the more I read the more I know that my taste runs towards a special subgenre of yaoi - hardcore yaoi.


When I was younger I felt astounded and bewildered by the growing display of sexuality - some of it rather explicit. I saw Pasolinis "Salo or The 120 days of Sodom", a movie loosely based on the book by the Marquis de Sade with a group of friends when I was 19. I don't know if the other people in my group really were as untouched as they behaved. We were sharing a pack of Haribo Cola bottle-gums while the actors were displaying the various kinds of sexual perversions known to humankind - plus lots of violence and the joy of living under a fascit regime (you get it - this movie is kinda hard to swallow to say the least ...). Whenever I reached into my neighbors Haribo pack I was keenly aware of the fact that he was male and I was not and even more aware that I hardly knew him and couldn't even hazard a guess as to what he might be thinking. As the movie continued I tried to make out the outline of my shoepoints in the dark while the movie characters were moving on to the world of having fun with feces. I never quite enjoyed cola bottle-gums anymore after this. I tried to let my eyes wander but keep my head still, so that it wouldn't be apparent that I was looking anywhere but the big screen in front of us. I did not want to loose face to my pals - maybe they wondered why I behaved so cool and gut-hardened while they were secretly feeling just as sick as I was.

After the movie we were all moving to the only bar we could still find open for a drink and a chat and I was surprised that we actually discussed the movie. That must have been were I heard it the first time - a sentence which should feature again and again in my later life: "It's not porn - it's art!" Huh?!
The eighties and nineties (I guess other decades as well, but I wasn't as aware of it then) have served us lots of sex under the disguise of art. Mostly I think that is just an excuse for people to indulge in their primary instincts under the pretence of being cultured. This whole movement presented us with magazines like "MAX" which was solely bought to admire the newest starlets unclad bossom while pretending to be interested in the article about lifestyle, pop-music or whatever. Or the sex education shows by Annie Sprinkle. I remember a local TV broadcasting company making a life interview of the people lining up at the entrance to ask why they wanted to visit the show. Some people gave reasons like wanting to get rid of their own inhibitations or sex problems, but most people tried to hide their faces from the camera - they knew they were just in it to once compare if Annie Sprinkles organs looked the same live as they did on the videos.


Despite all that I do believe that the sex-art-movement is founded on truth.
With mangas and anime take hardcore mangas like "Under Grand Hotel" by Sadahiro Mika or "Junai Fetizm" by Kanzaki Takashi and compare that to real porn. In both you'll get to see lots of sex, including close ups, dirty language and body fluids. I like hardcore mangas. I don't like porn. The difference lies in the plot, because the plot in a porn is just a sorry excuse of stringing one explicit sex scene after the other.

Let's take "Under Grand Hotel" as an example. This is a story about two originally straight men who meet in an high-security prison in the US. Sword (he is the man candy on above pic) is a black drug dealer, convicted in three cases of murder and sentenced to 200 years of prison. He made it to shut call, which is something like the gang leader of the inmates. New in prison is Sen, a Japanese who went to University and is sentenced to 80 years of prison after killing the husband of his (female) professor with whom he had an affair. The two end up as cell mates. Sword offers Sen protection in exchange for sex. He has been in prison for a while and came to accept doing it with men because ... well, because there aren't any women around and he still wants to have sex. Sen is very reluctant, but eventually sees that there is not much choice about having your backside used for someone elses pleasure in prison - only with Sword he can at least chose who is having a go at it. And after getting to know their bodies really, really well the two eventually fall in love.
If you decide to read the manga, all of the 3 published volumes are scanlated and available for free at mangafox.com - don't get confused at the first chapter: the real story starts at chapter 2.

This manga is really explicit, it shows very graphic hard sex plus it has lots of violence as well. It's also hot - so hot, you should turn your heater down and keep a cold shower available when reading it. Still to me "it isn't porn, it's art". Because in the end the manga is not about sex - it is about love. Plus the plot involves more (like prison life, drugs, social gaps) is well made and exciting and has excellent art work and intriguing characters (plus even the uke is cute and no 15-year old, chicken breasted wimp). I would definitely list this as one of my favourite yaoi mangas, but it is nothing for the faint hearted ones out there.

Of course between black and white there is also grey. To me the manga and anime "Sensitive Pornograph" was borderline - the anime even more so than the manga. It still has plot - sometimes it even has a plot with originality and potential. But (maybe because it is a collection of short stories) the plot doesn't develop much of that potential so that it gets lost in the abyss of too many all the same sex scenes. To me that is really borderline towards being merely porn, and not art.
As a final goodie I want to let you know of this 13-page-short manga story added as an omake to the manga "Shine" by Hoshino Masami. This short story called "H na kaze no yoru" (A night that should have been perverted) is about women who never saw any porn and want to try it out. It's a cute yet strange story and feels absolutely true to life. http://www.mangafox.com/page/manga/read/2364/shine/chapter.46661/page.3/

Women's 7 deadly sins: # 2 Chocolate

When God created man, she was only doing a trial job. Or according to another interpretation
when God created man, she was drunk and horny. Well, both give you a hint about the result... The second project worked was much improved, but still - it pains me to admit this - not completely without weak points.

I yet have to meet the woman who is not slave to her own cravings for something sweet. Ice cream. The Haribo Collection. And especially chocolate. Chocolate are rumoured to work as an aphrodisiac, to release endorphins and as such even serve as a substitute for sex.

Based on how much you like sweets and how much you depend on them to survive, I must be super woman. I am still waiting for the invention of the chocolate diet (okay, for the chocolate diet that actually serves to make you lose weight). But lately I am especially addicted to a super yummy chocolate bar, which has started to infiltrate Germany's sweets shelves: Cadbury's "Wunderbar".



The Wunderbar has a center of chewy caramel with peanut butter covered in chocolate.


It is sweeeeeet. Despite being that sweet it also has a distinctive saltiness which goes well with the peanut butter. I love it so much, I have become a real addict. And that when I am not normally a great fan of all things peanut. Snickers, peanuts, Mr. Tom, Peanut butter etc are usually rather tolerated than loved. Still the "Wunderbar" is everything its name promises and has me completely hooked.

Finally an explanation

I guess normally, when you start a blog this should be the first thing, that you explain what you are going to do. But I have to admit, I started this blog for various reasons and I was not quite sure how I would be going about it.


I called the blog "Letters from Bedlam" in reference to the well-known psychiatric hospital in London. Because my life feels a bit like a madhouse sometimes. And if you wonder about my nick "GeishaX", that is an old name I have been using online ever since my first times on the web. So for well over 10 years. Back then I liked the name, it has a relation to Japan to which I have an affinity. It stands for an entertainer versed in the arts, something I would like to be (without much hope). And the X was meant to supply a touch of mystery, coolness and style. (Mangareaders please note that in "Get Backers" a unknown boy child was found inside a bag with the name tag "Makube" on it. An X was added to stand for the unknown factor, and Makube X then became Makubex.
It is a long time ago that I made all that up, by now I just use the name because I feel that it has in a way become my name and I am not overly thinking about any of these things. (so when people meet me only for the first time as GeishaX and feel it as a come on I usually don't even get it until I am directly told about it. So forget all you know or think you know about Geishas - I am an entirely different type of person. I won't play koto or recite poems or laugh in an artful and come-hither way. I won't bow. Unless I feel you deserve it. And you'll have to work hard for that. My avatar picture is a colored-in cut-out from "Akuma de Sourou" (The devil does exist).

So here is what you can expect: I don't know. Or rather I don't know the limitations. Or let's just say: anything goes. It was never meant to be a manga blog. But of course I will write about the things that I am currently juggling in my mind. And as I am going through a rather hardcore manga phase, you are going to be served mangas till you are heartily sick of them. (What? You already are? Sissies! No endurance. You better brace yourself for more of the same fare.)

But in the end I will just ramble about whatever is currently on my mind.
As you see I have started two "series"-threads. The "Parallel Universe"-Series (which basically are a what would my life be like if things had gone different-thingy) and the "Women's 7 deadly sins" (a series about things that women like - maybe too much). I will definitely deliver more blogs in both series, though it might become difficult to decided onto which 7 sins I am going to pick - the pool from which to chose is to big for such harsh limitations.

Back on Horseback

I believe that 3 out of 10 girls undergo a phase of horse madness. I certainly did. When I was a girl I took riding lessons at a riding school called "Bonanza Ranch" in Katzweiler near Kaiserslautern. The horse I was riding was Crusoe. I think he was a Haflinger, definitely had the colouring. The Bonanza Ranch was not a very refined riding place back then - it looks a lot more professional today. The motto was more something like "up on the horse, have fun and try not to fall down". Still it WAS fun for as long as this phase lasted. Then I swapped the saddle for a motorbike and boys seemed even more interesting than horses, so I gave up on horse riding.

But now - years and years later - I wanted to do some sports and here in the countryside the only thing I could find in the mornings was some kind of bum-shaping gymnastics for housewives or fitness studios with bad techno music and over-cheery studio-tanned animators with very wide and very false smiles. So I decided I just had to start my own thing and I was lucky to find 3 other mothers with similar problems. The one sport that all four of us had an interest in was horse riding. The marsh countryside where I stay is horse country really. There are lots of stables out here. We decided on a riding school 3 villages away and started lessons there in October. All four of us have a little prior experience with horse riding - but a long time ago.
I am usually riding Mandy. She's a brown mare - technically a large pony, but she could almost pass as a small horse. That's her on the portrait above and she's the one on the left side here:

I liked her from the start. She is gentle and kind; she likes getting cleaned and even helps me putting on her bridle (I don't think I could do it without her help). She does not like to go in the front of the formation however and can be very stubborn about this.
I was able to reconfirm that riding is indeed sports. It's not just sitting on the horse and letting yourself be idly carried about. Today Mandy was not having a good day (maybe that time of the month ...) and was unwilling to do anything on her own. I had to convince her with everything I had. Afterwards I felt tired and my legs still have a distinct jelly-o-feeling.
Sometimes in the morning I look out of the window see the fog and the uninviting look of the November weather outside and think I would prefer to stay home, roll up on the couch and watch anime. But once I'm at the stable I'm okay. And once I'm on horseback I'm glad I came.

Cat in the box

I was reading the manga "Extra Heavy Syrup" (see picture) by Ogawa Yayoi lately and it got me interested in the concept of quantum mechanics and the thought experiment of Schrödingers cat. I'm not a scientist and I like to transfer difficult ideas into a context that I can understand. I can not claim to understand quantum mechanics, but I found the idea of it and the experiment of Schrödingers cat fascinating. Erwin Schrödinger (1887-1961) was an austrian physicist who apparently had a very lively imagination and a disturbed relationship to cats. In 1935 he came up with the following theoretical experiment: Imagine a closed box in which you put a cat and a canister containing poisonous gas which is triggered by a device with an unstable radioactive nucleus with a 50% chance to decay within one hour. Leave both for said hour. If you think in the lines of the typical human brain you would expect that after that hour the cat is either dead or alive. If you are a follower of quantum mechanics there would be a state/time at which the dead cat and the living cat co-exist. The intent of Schrödinger's modell was to prove the absurdity and/or paradox of quantum mechanics, which was based on the behaviour of atoms and obviously does not easily translate into our every day life.



I like to think of Quantum Mechanics as "anything goes as long as we can't see it". (because "every possibility that is not proven to be wrong must hence be correct" just sounds a bit too wild). Let's say I lock my children into their room and leave the house for an hour for a quiet walk around the romantic November scenery of northern Germany. They could completely destroy their rooms (most likely scenario) or they could sit patiently and wait for me to return. Does that mean in terms of quantum mechanics I have two sets of three children for the time of that walk? Three realistic seeming children who would completely misbehave and go for each others throats and another set of three children who sit quietly to be released from their room possibly while reading Dostojewski? As much as I would like to see that, I know I am stuck with the first set. And of course I know that my ideas are far from Schrödinger's - his idea of the cat being simultanously both alive and dead was referring to the quantum superposition which goes back to the theory that unstable nuclei undergo a in-between state of transition in which they are both decayed and undecayed. It is a theory that does not go down easily in every day reality.
Just imagine my face if I would ever open the door while realitiy is still in quantum mechanical modus and see 6 children sitting in the room - all mine. Or wait - who says that only two possibilities can co-exist. There could be a third set of my children performing open heart-surgery on the goldfish. And a fourth set talking swedish and discussing the best investment strategies and the future of world finances. The more I think about it the less inclined I feel to ever go on a walk all by myself.

The Ladybird Incident

Last Night was one of these nights. If you are a mother you know what I mean. If you know a mother you have heard of what I mean.
It must have been around 3 am this morning. I and little Lucy (our youngest) we were soundly sleeping. We are both upstairs. The twins share a room in the basement. So at that time I woke up hearing my son Mark crying. Just a few seconds later he came running upstairs, burst into my bedroom sobbing and screaming "Mama, Mama! I have a ladybird up my nose".
What a scenario to wake up to in the middle of the night! (and after going to bed much too late ...)
I got up, checked the nostrils (without trace of any ladybirds, but one nostril was slightly bleeding) the room and the much calmer sister and tried to work out what must have happened.
So this is the most likely story:
They must have woken up, got up and started to play quietly so as not to wake me up (how considerate). But currently the cold season is starting for real in Germany and just the last week we found several ladybirds indoors, who thought the climate in our living room more hospitable than the cold outside. So apparently the children were playing and found a ladybird in their room. However it came to that - apparently Mark wanted to pick it up and the ladybird flew and flew directly into his nostril. Mark believes that the ladybird thought his nose was a ladybird cave and that it had intentions to settle down there. In his panic he started picking his nose so much that not only the ladybird came out but he also got a nosebleed. We found the ladybird on the carpet - it was unharmed, but looked a bit dazed.
It's the stuff that legends are made out of.

So behold Mark - proud owner of an inbuilt ladybird cave - currently uninhabitated.

Parallel Universe: If I had become a nun

When I was in 8th grade in school my class made a trip to the island of Helgoland in the North Sea. The day we went there it was very stormy, we went by boat and I am one of these bad travellers - especially not compatible with boats and other rocking transport devices. Already on the trip there I (and half the other passengers too) was hanging over the railing having a close second look at my breakfast from hours earlier. I was miserable. The waves were high. The boat was going not forward, but upwards and downwards. I was sure, that my life was about to end any moment now. So little 14 year old me made a deal with the maker: if I would survive the trip, I would enter a cloister and devote my life to good deeds.

As you can read, I lived to tell the tale. And no: I never became a nun. I don't think the maker regrets that I don't hold my side of the bargain - it's not like he made a big loss of me. Or rather I guess the effects of me joining a nunnery could have served the church a fatal blow.

Thinking back to that day, I can't help rolling my eyes about my own blue-eyed-ness. Not only to make such promises without knowing if I would survive (employees onboard the ship did not look bothered at all, so in retrospective I think that we weren't really in danger of visiting sunken Atlantis), but also the pure thought to dedicate my life to a thing at which I ... well ... suck. I have great respect to all people that are religious and to all people that are that devoted to their ethics that they live an altruistic life to help others. But I am not cut out for that, I am sure. I like to slumber and indulge myself in reading romances, mysteries, mangas and all kinds of trivial stuff. There were moments when I have felt moved at church but mostly I am not convinced of the existence of god. It's more like I hope there is someone watching and adding sense to life, but deep down I also fear there isn't.

But - back on track. Let's say I would have held the thoughtless promise I made when I was 14. Maybe finished school and then entered a convent. Whoever thinks of this must guess that this was the shortest of blogs if I restricted my writing to just this imagination. Because I can't imagine myself as a nun. Maybe a RP nun in a big black outfit, a flashy svarovsky cross over the chest, pointed high heels hinting at secrets hidden under the robe - it's not my first choice RP, but I find it easier to imagine than the real thing. The real nun-me in that particular parallel universe would obviously be unmarried and childless, probably reading a lot. I imagine historical novels should hopefully be okay. But apart from this my mind is a complete blank in this.

I guess that I did not become a nun, was for the better - for everybody involved. And even if I sometimes feel bad for the un-kept promise, I do not really regret that this particular parallel universe is very, very far removed from reality.

Eternal Life

I don't know how old I was, when I learned, that we all - including myself - have to die one day. But I do remember, that I did not really believe it. Or want to believe it. I have always had a fear of death. And I am still not exactly looking forward to my last day, but I have realised that the alternative is not necessarily a good thing either.
Eternal life. Sounds good at first glance. Maybe. Maybe if you are a vampire, if you don't age, if you have something that will keep you hooked eternally ... wait ... what would that be? No hobby, I think. Imagine being an immortal tennis player. Even if you have eternal youth to boot, I am sure the decline of your interest and a massive tennis arm are premeditated. Imagine you have been pursuing chess for over 350 years. You know every charade by heart, few surprises left and you must be feeling heartily sick of black and white.
One of my friends grandfathers has reached a very high age of - I don't know 108 or so (still ongoing as far as I know). I hear he is not really overjoyed by his longevity. And if you think about - why would he be? Imagine something like this: The last of your pals died over 20 years ago and you have to witness the death of all of your five children (who says just because you age to over 100, your children do as well?) . Your bones ache (no eternal youth here!), no one takes you serious, you don't understand half a thing when you open the newspaper, watch TV or try to follow the conversions of the currently active generations (politicians come and go and wtf is a computer?). It would not be your world anymore. I think I would feel out of place, underappreciated, lost and deserted. And most of all I would miss the people I love.

Here I have a picture for you showing Minegawa Yone who passed away August 2007 at the age of 114. She still seemed quite fit for her age. But how many elderly people aren't and are plagued by pains here or there, by incontentinence, dementia and young relatives who only come to visit because they hope to get a decent share out of the inheritence in your hopefully-not-to-far-away future? Does that sound like fun? Not to me.
Maybe I could put up with some of the disadvantages. Maybe I would be lucky and stay healthy with only minor complaints, maybe I could manage to stay mentally sound and fit and keep up with technology, but if I imagine that I might have to see my children die before me, I really know that eternal life is not for me - unless I can share it with my family and friends.

Stressed Out

October is a month that I mark red in the calender. Already in spring I feel its gloomy shadow looming in the foreseeable future. The reason is: in October I have to survive my twins' birthday. This year I barely managed to restrict the number of invited children to 20, so including my own three brats, I will be Snowwhite to a villainous gang of 23 dwarfs. Last year we were only 16 if I remember right and I barely lived through the event. It was especially difficult as we were celebrating the party at home and had children with very different tastes. Some did not want to come out to play outdoors in the garden. Some did not want to go back inside. Some did not want any cake. And two children were temporarily lost and were later found upstairs in my bed playing ghosts. This year - in the probably vain hope of not losing the overview - I have arranged for a birthday party at an indoors playground and activity center. The big day is now closing in: it's already next tuesday, so in just another 4 days.

This is of course one of the reasons why you haven't really read any new posts here lately. Other reasons include my intensive back-on-horseback-riding-classes and me being overdue with work for a deadline of the magazine for which I write.
But while nothing has been posted here, I have several blogs already under construction. So for sometime late next week you can look forward to blogs about an absolutely drool-worthy yaoi anime-series, sex for sale, living forever and horses and riding. I also have two more installments for my "parallel universe"-series under construction - one about my life in medieval times and one about my life in a nunnery.

Parallel Universe: If the world was my dream

Since I have become a manga addict, I also am trying out a few animes as side dishes. The most recent one I have watched was "The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya". On her first day at high school the excentric Haruhi states that she has no interest in ordinary humans (I feel with her!), but if there were any aliens, time travelers, espers or the like present, they should please come forward and meet her. The boy sitting right in front of her, Kyon, is swept away (or rather kidnapped) into her whirlwind of strange and absurd activities and all kind of odd things start happening.

This anime is so daft that its stupidity clearly is founded in genius. We see most of the story from Kyons perspective and he has a dead black resigned and cynical way of relating to the world and Haruhis ideas.
There was a moment in the anime when, Koizumi, a rumoured esper says that the whole world is nothing but Haruhis dream, which means that when she is bored (or melancholic - hence the title) or having any sort of bad feelings, she unknowingly creates closed areas in which the laws of our world are not valid any more and which can threaten the existence of the whole world. Koizumi thinks that Haruhi herself is not aware that she creates her own world around her, like aliens, time travellers and espers (himself) appearing because it was Haruhis wish in the first place.
It is not really such a new idea, I am sure every kid who like me was waiting for a sign from Krypton or secret powers to finally unfold themselves (still waiting ...) has at one point encountered the concept, that what we perceive as reality is actually NOT reality but something else ... like the dream of someone, who would then probably appear as a kind of god in that world. What was new to me was thinking that it could be your own world, no excuse me - my world and that I myself could be the dreamer. (Maybe I'm just naturally humble that this possibility never came upon me before - na, just kidding, probably I had this thought before and just forgot about it. Have you noticed btw that I really like to write in brackets?)
So imagine: I am the only real person here (Yes, this sounds about right!!!). And the world as you know it is nothing but my dream. Plus therefore of course YOU are my dream. I made you up. How do you feel about that? I actually think it could be flattering not to exist because of that one sperm hitting the one egg, but because someone actually bothered to come up with your whole concept. And every time you make a stupid mistake you can lay the blame on me.
The whole idea has one major flaw: If I am currently sleeping and this whole world is my dream ... I must be a mentally disturbed person to think up Auschwitz, Saddam Hussein and plateau shoes. I'm clearly having a nightmare here, so could some one please wake me up?!

Apocalypse Now!

I'm a mother of three children, all of them in kindergarden. I used to think of myself as a calm, reflected person with an unshakeable patience. These days are gone forever though. In my pre-children life I did not even know I had it in me to scream or to lose it completely. Now I have developed into a part-time general and if your country ever needs someone to organize a small invasion - just give me a call.
The last two days our kindergarden was closed because the teachers were on training. It's times like that that makes you realize that they should be all be walking around with their chest decorated with medals for public service and peace keeping. Tomorrow kindergarten will re-open and I will be waiting at its gate at point 8.00 a.m. with all my three unruly heirs in tow. I can't wait.

Don't take me wrong, it's fun having children and I wouldn't want to miss any of my three brats. All the same they have a knack for settling me with a high blood pressure confliction. As when today my eldest daughter (5, left in the picture) decided she was made to be a hair dresser and cut her little sisters (3, right in the picture) hair. Poor Lucy, she never had any hair to spare in the first place and was so proud a few weeks ago with her first tiny thin little pigtail, which was so frail that it never really lasted long anyway!
Or when today the youngest thought it was a great game to empty a full box of pins into my (!) bed. (She is not daft, of course she doesn not empty them in her own bed.)
And I really thought it was the end of days, when I realized that my five-year old twins can now reach up into the sweety shelf if they stand on a stool. Our supply of chocölates, cookies and all other sweets have dwindled into dangerous all-time low levels. These are sometimes my only way of keeping them in line. I was so happy when they started to understand the if-then-system of cause and symptom. Like: "If you tidy your room, I'll give you a lollipop." or "If you keep arguing with each other, I'll withhold your daily portion of sweet things from you." No more, from now on it is survival of the fittest in our household.

Curiosity killed the cat

It was Eve who was tempted with the apple. Are all women curious? I myself definitely am. I have to try out every new yoghurt flavour that appears in the supermarkets. So maybe it is not that surprising that I just had to find out about yaoi and shounen ai mangas myself.
For all the people out there who don't know yet: I have said it before, there are all kinds of mangas out there. But surprisingly popular are mangas about male gay couples. Shonen Ai literally means boys love and that's exactly what the mangas are about. Usually a young teen couple discovering their first gay love. Yaoi are a bit more mature in their themes and in their target group and may also have some explicit content. The most curious thing about Shonen Ai and Yaoi are that they are primarily made by women for women. Yes, you have not misread this. It's a woman mangaka making up a story about two boys or men falling in love and it's a wide female audience these stories are meant for. I could not quite see the fascination, but as I said before, I am of a curious nature and I also don't like to condemn something without knowing more about it, so I went and tried it out. And I could not have been more surprised as I was when I realized that I found it appealing.

I can't help asking myself why that is so. I like love stories. So there is already one point. Because in the end, shonen ai and yaoi are still mostly about love. Then of course it should be mentioned that where in a conventional love story you have the girl and one (or possibly more) very good looking, or sweet, or cool or for-whatever-else-reason appealing hero. Well, do the maths - in the shounen ai and yaoi stories the number of yummy hunks is easily doubled. Also the story lines provide new ankles for every one who is fed up with the always same old warmed up dish: there is the fear to become gay, the embarrassment and problems of "coming out" and the scourn of society to just name a few. I found the art so far generally also better in average - or rather, I have not seen any shounen ai or yaoi mangas that had their popularity obviously based only on story lines and characters - so far the art has always been at least up to par. And to come to the point of sexual content, as with all mangas it really all depends on the mangaka and the story - even if it is yaoi it may be so mild that there is practically nothing, on the other side the next yaoi may ruin your appetite. I also sometimes really helps that there isn't a female heroine here - because let's be honest, there aren't many female manga characters that really do it for me. Most of them are weak, doormattish, boring and sickeningly good - there are few exceptions to that rule (like in Kimi wa petto - see my blog mistress and pet from last month). So overall having no female lead character really isn't a big loss.
I would not go so far as to say that shounen ai and yaoi mangas are my new obsession or that I would even generally love them, but they have proved an enjoyable side dish to my normal manga menu and I'll definitely keep trying out some more.

Women's 7 deadly sins: #1 Shoes

I live in the country side in a quite rural and remote place along a country road. The next baker is 5 kms away and the next tiny supermarket (or what goes for that hereabouts) even further. Before we moved here I have been living in St. Pauli, the amusement district in Hamburg, with sex shops, tattoo studios and concert halls virtually next doors. I don't really mind living in the country most days. I have children in the kindergarten age who benefit greatly from the garden and outdoors activity. I don't have to search our sandbox for used condoms or needles before I let them play there and even the road in front of the house is safe enough for the first attempts on their bikes. But two or three times a year I miss the city. That is because while the marsh where I live offers great hunting opportunities for foil it offers zero hunting opportunities for fashionable shoes. You guess it, like many other women out there I like to spend too much on shoes. I have nothing from Manolo Blahnik - not because I don't like his designs, but because spiky high heels are not really recommended for the squishy marsh grounds here. Instead my favourite brands are Audley, Konstantin Starke, sometimes Jimmy Choo but most of all from the spanish god of shoes - Pedro Garcia.
Many many years ago I bought a pair of Swarovsky studded titan silver sandals from Pedro Garcia at the Hamburg Jungfernstieg Shoe Shop "Prange Duo" - to date my very favourite shoes and worth every cent of their exorbitant around 250 Euro price (seems a lot for a bit of sole with two straps of cloths).

It was an older (and more beautiful) brother to the Modell "Sissi Gold Lurex" thongs shown in the above picture that can be bought at 210,00 Euros at footlux.com. Garcia brings out a re-release of this kind of shoe almost every season slightly changed for variety and to go with the current fashion trends. I have acquired several other models by Garcia from sandals via loafers to high heeled pumps and boots and all of them are very well made. Garcia likes to work with svarovsky stones, punk elements and like most top class designers he always brings out a wide range of high heels, but he has proved repeatedly that he can do low heels and no heels and still look classy. Therefore I like his flats (especially flat sandals) and his boots best (the below picture shows this season's flat boots modell "Kaori" which sells for 300,00 Euros at footlux.com). There's too many frilly and over-decorated pumps out there already.

My favourite high heels therefore are plain but classy grey suede with a small Robin Hood-like detail to them. And they are not from Pedro Garcia but from Konstantin Starke. But suede ... shudder! It is such a delicate material that I hardly ever dare to wear them, therefore they lead a sad shadow existence within their original shoe box and only get taken out about once a year.

Triangles and Tears

Anyone who's been following this blog knows I read mangas. There has been one aspect of shoujo romances that is seriously bugging me. That is the typical and cliché way that love triangles are inevitably a prominent feature and I really really hate them. I hate all stories that involve too much jealousy, possibly because I am weak to it myself.

You have the heroine A and hero B and either a girl who wants to snatch B from A or a guy who is going after A. That's a shitty situation - anyone who has gone through something like that knows it's true. It is unavoidable that then my chest seems to hurt and my heart feels like a shriveled umeboshi, my blood turns cold inside my veins, my stomach feels queesy and my legs feel weak. This is the green-eyed snake called jealousy raising its head.



So many manga series have love triangles. Some of these raise the snake big time. Like "Hot Gimmick" by Aihara Miki, "Bokura ga ita" (see my blog "wallow in misery" from last month ...) by Obata Yuuki, "Hot Blooded Woman" by Hwang Mi Ri (see my blog "Sick-O from last month), "Akuma de Sourou" (The Devil does exist - see above picture) by Takanashi Mitsuba or "Hana Yori Dango" (aka "Boys over Flowers") by Kamio Yoko. There are some typical moments like when the bride that the heroes parents want him to marry pops up for a bit of mischief and some dramatic moments. She is usually gorgeous and our poor every-day-girl heroine will get some serious minority complex in comparison. Anyone who ever had a formidable competitor in a love triangle will feel queasy. Than there is of course the male rival who tries to seperate the couple. He does not bug me half as much as the female, I may feel a twinge of pity for hero B but that is about it - more over deep down I usually suspect that he deserves to suffer. I guess this derives from the fact that the manga is shown more from the heroines perspective and more directed towards the feelings of a female reader.
Many of these series work with cheap and dirty tricks to raise emotions - despite knowing that and despite recognising it I keep falling into the same emotional trap again and again. Some have some highly unrealistic turns and twists in their plots, and Hwang Mi Ri and especially Kamio Yoko aren't even showing an artwork that makes up for it. On top of that, having been on the losing end of a love triangle before I am weak to this plot, it just really gets to me. I hate the three-wheeler-situation. I know exactly how desperate one feels in the place of being the third wheel on a bicycle. The difference that the heroine in the story may - or rather will probably - overcome the difficulties in front of her and likely win the hero at the end, does not really help - especially if you consider that quite a few shoujo mangas have endings that can not be considered 100% happy endings. And in the love triangle one will lose this game. One will be left behind broken. One will be the villain. I found that many of these love triangle stories are grouped in the categorie "slice of life". Just goes to show that life can really suck.

Some situations get to us more than others. I know someone with a fear of not being loved by his father who starts to cry in movies when father and son are having problems. Movies. Mangas. Books. They may not be the real thing. Yet they can raise our fears. Not for everyone I guess. Some people seem immune. I am not. I am such a weak person to emotions. I cry even when I see comedies or read funny books. One emotional scene, a sad setting, a bit of violin music in the background, dirty plot tricks - bring out the tissues!

When I was reading "Hana yori dango" I strongly experienced the trepidation of expecting disaster for the manga couple. The story is about Makino Tsukushi, a girl from a poor family visiting the prestige expensive elite high school that has the famous stupidly rich and handsome F4 boys. While she is falling for the former autistic, shy and introvert Rui, who is in love with someone else, their leader loud, rude, violent and arrogant Doumyouji Tsukasa lays his black heart at her feat. It takes Tsukushi ages to understand her own heart and she has to learn painful lessons. The real couple - hero and heroine - start to officially go out with each other in volume 19. By that time they have already overcome so many painful love triangles from each side that the reader starts to feel kind of surrealistic. His fiancé, the girl that confessed to him in elementary school and wants to get him for revenge, the son of the politician who falls for Tsukushi, the model who falls for Tsukushi, the childhood friend that falls for Tsukushi. And that is only the problems this couple had with interfering other lovers. Ambitious mothers, money problems and scheming bullies at school add some additional fun. So finally at volume 19 they officially go out with each other. But if you know that there is an alltogether number of 36 volumes plus one epiloguish stand-alone you can guess it won't really all go that smoothly even now. A sadistic mangaka who likes to torture her couple for 19 volumes will not let them live in heavenly bliss for the remaining 17+1 volumes. Besides - no one would probably want to look at a doting happy couple for that long - right? But that "Hana yori dango" is one of the really big, well known and recommended shoujo series must have a reason. And that reason is certainly not the mangaka's art, who is even less than average. At the beginning of the series she can draw exactly 1.5 faces which she only varies with different hairstyles. And these faces are nothing special. Worse - the clothes and the complete sense of taste are a disaster of armageddon-like magnitude. Still I must admit that the artist really improves as the series continues and she even manages some very touching visuals later on. Here one of the better full-page images of Doumyouji Tsukasa. Hey, he looks way to sweet there! :-)

Well, I guess with so many volumes it would be more than weird if she had not improved her style. So after 15 volumes or so she can maybe draw 3 or 4 different faces and it looks like sometime in the next millenium she'll really get the hang of this. Sadly her fashion sense seems beyond the rescue point (let's point out "Akuma de Sourou" here - topmost picture of this blog. The intro pages to the chapters have excellent style and Takanashi's way to dress her various characters at least there has absolute groove. I'd like to go shopping with her and have her pick an outfit for me and take me to her hairdresser). On top of that Kamio Yoko has a weird sense of humour that is going overboard occasionally. So I can't really say that "Hana yori dango" is a masterpiece. I'm actually convinced that is anything but. Reaching volume 19 I found myself wishing the artist would conclude the series after one or to more volumes and let the couple live on happily ever after. I knew it was not going to happen. With another 17+1 volumes - no way does she only want to show us the fun of being boyfriend and girlfriend. I felt sure she had wicked things planned. And I was absolutely sure that there would be more love triangles (I was right, too!) - she is just too fond of them to leave hero and heroine in peace. Despite all that .... of course I could not just stop there. I had to read on. Even though after a long series like this I don't expect to be satisfied with the end. Even Hana Kimi, a series that actually IS a masterpiece had an ending that seemed overly hurried and even the special ending short story to Hana kimi does not offer full closure. I guess I was especially missing a love scene. I know it is stupid, because Hana kimi is a sweet romance with tension but the style makes it absolutely clear that you can not expect more than a passionate embrace and lukewarm kiss at the very most. With "Hana yori dango" I was not so sure. I asked myself if Tsukushi would get to do it with her hero. Sure, the mangaka would probably cut the scene so we would just know it is happening without getting to know much about it. Doesn't matter. Even if it had a love scene with pornographic close-ups I would not be satisfied. After reading about a couple for 37 volumes you just can't be. I had an odd feeling that Kamio wouldn't give me a satisfying end. She has been using cheap tricks all along, so I expected she would use more of them. And as I said before - quite a few mangas have only half happy endings. Remember Hana Kimi (my No.1 favourite shoujo manga and entirely without too painful love triangles): Mizuki has to leave the school and go back to the US. She gets the man, but has to wait for him. Or in Akuma de Sourou: the guy goes to Italy for years and even if they suddenly marry then in the last chapter that continues the story years after the main plot. Hana Yori Dango's ending is just as much a pain the butt. You can deduce that the ending is not offering full closure by the fact that a second "season" is planned for the manga. Poor Tsukushi will probably be sent on another journey of pain and suffering for another 36 volumes. In the end I can't even say that I would not recommend "Hana yori dango" - if a series can draw you in so much, if it can raise these feelings that much there is something to it. It even has quite a few comical moments and in the breaks in between love triangles I really enjoyed it.

For all of you who like to suffer, my manga love triangle reading list:

For real masochists:
* Hana yori dango (Boys over Flowers) by Kamio Yoko
* Hot blooded woman (see my July Blog "Sick-O") by Hwang Mi Ri
* Akuma de Sourou (The Devil does exist) by Takanashi Mitsuba
* Kare first love by Miyasaka Kaho
* Hot Gimmick by Aihara Miki
* Bokura ga ita (see July Blog "Wallow in Misery") by Obata Yuuki

For beginners masochists and love triangle newbies:
* Cutie Boy by Hwang Mi Ri
* MARS by Souryo Fuyumi
* Zettai Kareshi (Absolute Boyfriend) by Watase Yuu
* Alice 19th by Watase Yuu
* Kimi wa petto (We are Tramps) by Ogawa Yayoi

Parallel Universe: If I had been lesbian

Walking along the way of life, each time we have to make a decision it is like standing at a crossroad that can change your future. A few times in my life I have been close to disaster - if I had taken a different way at a prior crossroads I might have been dead - or avoided the situation alltogether. I could have taken the road to become a famous cook. Or ended up a teenage-mother. Or living in Greece. Or a drug addict.
I like to think how my life would have turned out if I had gone a different road. One of my other lifes that I am rather curious about is what it would have been like to if I had been a lesbian.
For some reason quite a few women with whom I talked about the state of Sappho agreed with me that it must be a better world - an easier to bear fate, a friendly place without decades spent sitting next to the telephone in case HE calls. Without worrying about the ample bosom of the bar maid and your dates badly hidden glances down her cleavage. Without scratching beards, hairy buttocks and your favourite yoghurt gone from the fridge. Without having to worry about one-night-stands resulting in pregnancies, without the condom-turn-off and most of all without having to put up with the immense backdrop of living with someone who is handicapped with the y-gene.
I guess lesbians must have their own range of relationship problems and probably get just as sick of them as non-lesbians get of the typical guy-sickness. Do they spend their money for lingerie, women magazines and tights just like the average unfortunate heterosexual-oriented, guy-stuck woman?
I have been an early admirer of the lesbian band "Two nice Girls" (picture), maybe it was the lyrics from "I spent the last 10 $ on birth control and beer" that raised this kind of mild jealousy for lesbian life inside me:

"When I was a young girl like normal girls do
I looked to a woman's love to help get me through
I never needed any more than a feminine touch
I hated the thought of kissing a man it really was too much

I did not drink, I did not smoke I did not say "goddamn"
I was polite I was sensitive before I loved a man
My family, they were proud of me were proud of what I am
But then along came Lester and my tale of woe began

(Chorus)
I spent my last ten dollars on birth control and beer
My life was so much simpler when I was sober and queer
But the love of a strong hairy man has turned my head I fear
And made me spend my last ten bucks on birth control and beer

It was June 1983 when Mary Lou and I did part
She said she loved another dyke my god, it broke my heart
I was bitter and disillusioned to lose another girlfriend
Lester came to work at Papa's store and decided to ease on in

Before my last heartbreak nothing made me more sick
Than a hairy-chested, cheap double-breasted suited man with a hard dick
I guess that I was curious I guess that I was young
I guess it was that rum and coke I guess that I was dumb [...]



Yeah, I AM envious of my own life as a lesbian it sounds care-free, tidy and satisfying. Of course there are recompensations for living with a man.
Like motherhood (which has it good and bad sides, but let's just think of the good sides for now)
Like when you get to take off the suit.
And like when you need someone to open the jam glass or other moments when brute force comes in handy about three times per year.
And I'm sure if I think about this for a few more hours I will probably come up with something else.
I don't really blame the men. Much. It is me who is stupid enough to fall for the pheromone trap. Repeatedly.

Pet and Mistress

From the way I have been presenting mangas so far I could be deduced to be a bishonen-otaku. What has been missing so far is a heroine in the spotlight. That is probably because so far I have been reading mostly shoujo mangas, made for girls and young women - very much like young adult books. But I am not a highschool girl myself and maybe that is why I have my difficulties to really feel with the typical shoujo heroines. If you think it is because I am more attracted to the men ... I kind of feared it could be so myself, but lately I have been reading the 14-volume-josei-series "Kimi wa petto" (other titles/translations: Kimi wa pet, Tramps like us, You are a pet, My pet Momo) a manga that is not a shoujo but meant for more mature women. And suddenly I feel more with the heroine - Sumire is not a young virginal blushing high school girl, but a career woman with some dating and relationship experience and a chain smoker to boot. I feel much closer to her as a person. ;-)
The basic plot idea is something like this: Iwaya Sumire seems to have everything: high education, intelligence, beauty and a fast progressing career as a journalist. But that is exactly why people don't seem to appreciate and bully her with their envy and why she got dumped by her cheating ex-boyfriend with his inferiority complex. She sets a new rule for dating: no men that are shorter than she is, who earn less or are less educated. So when she picks up a good looking boy from the streets and lets him stay with her for free, she decides he can't be her boyfriend, because he does not meet any of the requirements ... she makes him her pet instead and calls him Momo after her old dog. And while Sumire finds a boyfriend who seems perfect for her, the only person who gets to see a certain side of her is her "pet" Momo. Sumire tries to train her pet, but instead it sometimes seems that in this case the pet has a lesson in store for his mistress.

Ah, when I read the plot like this it has a distinct possibility for cheesiness. But despite Sumire's sometimes outlandish views about her pet, the story never wanders into the regions of D/s or other weird stuff. It is mostly romance, a bit of comedy or drama mixed in here and there. There is some sexual content, Sumire has a sex life ... to some degree, but it is not depicted in detail and manages to stay appropriate and almost demure. The characters are nicely built and show a good depth. Sumire is a strong woman who has been hurt a lot and who seems cool and aloof to people when she really is not and does not see herself that way. Her actions are founded on a very peculiar sense of logic that strangely makes her seem almost real. She is also really beautiful. The artist Ogawa Yayoi, who has published at least four other manga books or series, has a simplistic, very clear and trendy style. I especially like the way Sumire's eyes are drawn, less round and glossy than in the shoujo genre, but almost more like the eyes of a bishonen - quite befitting for a woman out of her teens. The Hero, the pretty little pet boy Momo and various side characters are also really well created, but not as vivid as Sumire by far.
I would recommend "Kimi wa petto" to anyone who longs for a more mature heroine or a romance outside of highschool that has sexual tension without smut, a clear and very hip and appealing artwork, an original idea and really good character development.

The Whine

My wild years are dating a good while back. That was when I was wearing the blackest black Helena Rubinstein Mascara and eye liner with pale powder, silver lipstick and black nail vanish. I dressed in black almost exclusively - mini skirts and patterned tights and pointed shoes. I had a version of the gothic flu that was going about for years then. We were young and hungry for life and mysteries, there were parties about 5 days the week and I wasn't willing to miss one of them if it could be helped. And then there were the party songs: songs that were played at every party. And one thing that was inevitably played at every party was "Blister in the Sun" by Violent Femmes - even if it usually scared half the crowd from the dance floor.
I really liked the Femmes back then and bought almost all their albums. My best friend was an even more devoted follower. After I moved to Hamburg, she kept coming whenever the Violent Femmes were playing there. A Violent Femmes Concert is a straight forward affair. Special effects: 0. Fun: 100.

The Band was founded in Wisconsin in 1980. The main members Gordon Gano (lead vocals/guitar - one of these hyper-active seeming charismatic shorties - middle in the pictures), Brian Ritchie (bass guitar/vocals - right in the picture) and Victor deLorenzo (Drums/vocals - left in the picture). Usually what they produce with their vocal cords and instruments is labelled as Alternative Rock or more to the point as Folk-Punk, a musical genre to which the Violent Femmes served as midwifes. What you can expect is this: honest hand made guitar-focused music - sometimes quiet but more often fast and angry. Add the simplest of drum set in professional music. DeLorenzo is a purist, without a big organ of drums and fancy thingys or - God forbid! - beat machines, just a basic set, often less than that. On top of that comes Ganos voice which is absolutely unique. Mind - I did not say beautiful! His voice has a disctinctive whine and has the charm of a rusty chainsaw. It does however work very well for the rebellious, explicit and sulky content of their song texts. Imagine someone singing "I dig the black girls", "Add it up" or "Gimme the car" with a beautiful melodious voice - no one would take them serious. Let Gano screech like a madman and suddenly everything makes sense. Can he sing? I'm not sure, sometimes the songs have a few dissonants - but not only in the voice. And then again in the more quiet songs like "See My Ships", "I know it's true but I'm sorry to say" or "Good Feeling" he can convince despite the fact that he has a voice like talking through a beer can, so maybe he really is a good singer. Or maybe that is not really all that important. In the end what counts is that the Violent Femmes helped form something original, new and off the beaten tracks. You don't hear that much of them today - the last album was released 2002. I guess the high times of Folk-Punk are gone, the members have acquired the feared 4B's (Belly, Beard, Bald Spot & Boring Clothes). But I am sure that just as in my own musical selection they are still remembered fondly by many other people that vanished from the dance floor whenever the undancably fast and erratic beats of "Blister in the Sun" bellowed from the speakers.
And since the text is so comfortably short and simple and speaking (and because the text to "Add it up" is a bit too blunt and rude to print this early in our blogging relationship) I want to give you the lyrics to "Fat", one of my favourite Femmes Songs:

Fat

I hope
you got
fat
cause if you got
really fat
you just might want to see me come back
I don't care
how heavy or how skinny
just gimme
something to love
a little extra weight would never look no nicer on nobody else but you
and I could always use a little bit more
to hold on to
and if I get a fright in the middle
of the night I'll cling to you

Sick-O

Yeah, yeah, I know this is turning into a veritable manga-blog. But so what, that's what is on my mind right now.
But then todays artwork is a manhwa and not a manga. Small difference only, but still not exactly the same. Originally much the same thing as a manga, manhwas come from Korea. What I know about Korea printed in a 10-font-type would fit onto my toenails - and I do cut them regularly. The difference between mangas and manhwas: you read manhwas from left to right like western books and comics, the characters have mostly korean names (surprise, surprise) and there is a slightly different feeling to manhwas - at least the ones that I have read so far. Manhwas seem to be a bit less care-free than mangas. And the action & violence level seems upped a bit in comparison.
The special manhwa that is on my mind right now is by artist Hwang Mi Ri and called "Hot Blooded Woman". She seems a well known manhwa-artist and has published quite a few series starting in the ealry 1990s. The only other one that I have tried so far was "Boarding House of Hunks". Yes, there seems to be a theme of cheesy titles ... You can try out both series online at mangafox.
I found "Hot Blooded Woman" when I was looking for mangas/manhwas with heroines that have a strong fighting skill. The heroine in "Hot Blooded Woman", Ha Ji, is not what I imagined when hearing the title - a hot blooded woman would be someone womanly, probably sensual. Ha Ji is more boyish than most boys, eating like pig, belching and not pretty. She is also the leader of the gang at her high school, a position earned by her well developed fighting skills. She is fun to read about. Still the manga started a bit weak, the plot was developing too fast in the beginning and I found the first three or four chapters mostly confusing. But then the heroine dies in chapter 2 of a 24 volume-thick series. You guess it. She does not really die. Instead the soul of the fighter girl is transfered into the body of the sickly weakish Aram, a girl that is everything that Ha Ji is not. Ha Jis natural temper makes her fight back even in the body of weak Aram. Until she meets Sin Uoo, leader of the gang at her new school. Only Han Seo, her vice leader in her old gang and long term friend discoveres her soul-travelling secret. Ha Ji's soul has to find a way back into her comatose own body. But it seems like the really trouble will only start then.
"Hot Blooded Woman" should rather be called "short tempered woman with an enormous appetite". The artwork is nothing special - pretty average I would say. The heroine is very enjoyable and the hero is a real knightly hunk. So why exactly did I find myself rooting for the second man Jang Han Seo (picture)? What intrigued me in Han Seo was his reckless everything-or-nothing-attitude. This man does not go for half slices. When he thinks that he can not have Ha Ji (although it is never really said in any way that he wants her as a woman, at times I thought he just doesn't want to be taking second place in her life), he would rather destroy her than let someone else have her. So he has complete asshole moments - lots of them. More than good moments. He has a sick mind. He is a possible other choice for Ha Ji but at the same moment he is the villain. Yet, I find him much more interesting than Sin Uoo and despite different expectations kept hoping that he would find a way to win her.

I have since read a review of "Hot Blooded Woman" that critized that Hwang Mi Ri was just re-using all her old ideas in new clothes again. After finishing "Hot Blooded Woman" I have started to read "Boarding House of Hunks", and can see a few similarities as in the character of the heroine. But I have not read enough by hear to be bothered by that - if it is true. Both series have quite a few lough-out-loud moments. As for "Hot Blooded Woman" I thought that the plot seemed divided into three parts, that still are connected by the plot line but have a very different feeling about them. The first part is a romantic comedy, the second part is a dramatic romance with funny and exciting moments, the third part is an exciting dramatic drama. The romance seemed to lose out more and more with the progressing plot. Despite that I found the series very engaging, it provided fun and excitement and even a few moments of romantic heartbeat. It also gave me a new hero for my ever growing manga-harem - welcome Han Seo!

Touch of Tongue

When I saw a short description for the Manga-Series "Five" by Furukawa Shiori the cover art caught my eye and I immediately wanted to give it a try.

The plotline is cute, but nothing new:
Due to her fathers job Asou Hina had to move and change schools pretty much on a regular basis so far, therefore she never had a chance to develop close friendships. She wants to change that at her new school, but finds herself the only girl in a class full of boys. 5 (hence the title) of these boys are quite outstanding and they "adopt" Hina into their circle. But one of them, Shimizu Toshi, known for walking ankle-deep in girlfriends, seems to take a special interest in Hina.
So, you see really that the plot is a quite common mixture of popular shoujo manga themes. There is for one the "new girl at school"-plot on top of a good foundation of the "reverse harem"-plot. Both widely popular. On top of this comes a small dosis of the "fighting heroine"-plot, a small "gender-bender"- side plot and of course the "alpha man protector" hero (almost a given constant in shoujo mangas). There is some comedy, but I have read a good deal of funnier stuff. And some of the plot is really out there, but I still want to call this an absolute masterpiece because of the unique and very appealing "cool" style of the mangaka.
So now a word about the master:
I have looked up other published work by Furukawa Shiori and apart from "Five" there have been released three other series (Hajimari no Kotoba, Number Boy, Tsuki o Dakishimeru). The only translations that I could find are scanlations at mangafox for some of the short story collection "Tsuki o Dakishimeru" and the still unfinished series "Five". I will definitely keep an eye on this artist. Furukawas style is adorable. Not only are the drawings unusual, they are also extremely sensual. Furukawa is very good at drawing eyes, draws very nice hands and even better are the mouths. The lips seem adorable in the mangas, made so by an absolute minimalistic input, it's not what is drawn, but what isn't that seems so attractive. In the front views upper lips are rarely drawn, the bottom lip is defined usually by a single narrow line, what makes the thing work is what is in between. The lips are slightly open, wide open, drawn into lopsided smiles or cheeky grins. But what really pushes my button is the fact, that Furukawa has a tongue thing. The characters are constantly sticking their tongues out, catching drops of ice cream, licking their lips and doing various acrobatics with their tongues and it is absolutely ... wow. This rather small and simple seeming thing gives the manga a very earthy sensuality, a feeling of cheekiness, of teasing sexuality. Okay, its a given that the main hero is a real boycandy, the heroine supercute and even most of the sidecast looks really hip, but there's quite a lot of that out there. "Five" manages to create sexual tension while still staying within the proper boundaries of a free-for-under-16-shoujo manga. No halfclad heroine, no cheasy love scene, but a trendy style of drawing, a dose of retro-art and pop-art and a touch of tongue. So what if you do not have the characters undress themselves - who bothers about the clothing level when Toshi opens his mouth and licks his lips?

This just managed to remind me again that even what seems commonplace at first sight can be really hot - in the right light. The tongue thing absolutely does it for me. The tongue is an underrated and neglected body part anyway and really deserving of this artistic hommage.

Wallow in misery

I usually prefer mangas leaning towards the romantic comedy genre. If you have followed the previous blogs you know that I am an addicted sucker to Hana Kimi and may guess from a picture that I liked Zettai Kareshi (though I admit that I was struck dumb by the ending, I was warned beforehand that it doesn’t end as one might wish, but THAT was really out there …). I usually read for escapism, to dip into other worlds and I enjoy myself there.
More by accident I came upon a manga series by award winning manga-ka Obata Yuuki, called “Bokura ga ita” (could be translated as "This was us"). It kind of stood out amongst the other mangas by its unusual pastel coloured dreamy looking front covers. So I got the first three volumes on a hunch and now I’m hooked at something I never would have chosen willingly and there’s no way back and no light at the end of the tunnel.
"Bokura ga ita" stands out in more ways than just the style of drawing. This is way different from the easy going mangas I normally read and prefer. This unusual teenage romance with a high school setting has no comedy at all – it’s dead serious, dark, bitter-sweet, compelling and disturbing.

"Bokura ga ita" tells the story of Takahashi Nanami who in her first year in High School finds herself in the same class as the very popular Yano Motoharu, who is famous for having most of the girls falling in love with him. Seeing Yuno as a spoilt, egocentrical, selfish and opportunistic womanizer, Nanami believes herself immune to his charms and claims herself to belong to the minority of girls who see nothing in him.
But as Nanami and the readers slowly unravel shadowy secrets of the seemingly easy-going Yano and discover a dark side to him, they find Nanami falling head over heels for the exact guy she wanted to avoid.

I have read other mangas trying the twist turning towards the melodramatic, they failed and showed the believability (and class) of cheap soap operas. But in Bokura ga ita the whole things works just fine. For all its dark sides – or maybe because of them – it seems frighteningly real. Because this is what love felt like when I was young. It was not the pink died romantic happy feeling that warms your heart, but a frightening feeling of hopelessness, of knowing you would never be happy.
While Obata has a very distinctive dreamy and easy looking way of drawing - it is strangely at odds with this disturbing tale of madness, lies and broken hearts. The characters are excellently woven, none of them are easy to predict and especially the half heroic/more than half villainy Yano is astoundingly intriguing for a teenage-love story. You get to love him, and then he takes your heart and wrings it dry – still smiling all the way. The whole story is sooo not what I expected. Not the easy going tale of first stolen kisses on a high school. To say it was an emotional rollercoaster seems too tame a comparison. More like inviting a heavy duty steam-roller to run over your heart repeatedly.
I was still half clue-less after the first volume which left me intrigued and a bit puzzled. Because Obata takes her time developing characters and plot. That is probably the reason why at the end of the third volume my blood ran cold seeing the characters happily racing towards doomsday, cheerily inviting the apocalypse. And every time you recover from the punch the plot gave you full force into the guts, you can already feel the artists fist connecting with your jaw …again.
I found reading this series extremely painful. My heart beats away furiously, my mind can’t grasp that the characters don’t see the abyss right in front of their noses. It is a gut-wrenching, mind-blowing, blood poisoning story of heartbeat and the misery of being 16. It hurts to read this, which makes the experience everything but joyful – yet of course if a story is able to pull you into such emotional depth you can be sure it is a masterpiece.

I don’t usually do sad and painful stories. I have managed to stay clear of the books by Cecilia Ahern for this exact reason, even though I am sure I would agree with my friends, that they are wonderful. I just can’t take it. Neither can I take "bokura ga ita". I can't fully understand why anyone would willingly read something so sad - the story seems designed to pull you down and frankly I get down without help from outside, thanks very much. But due to my addictive personality I got hooked and have to know how it ends. To make the pain pass by quicker I have swopped from mangas to the anime – series. I'm still hoping that this will have a happy ending, but even if so the road to that end is sure not an easy one. The anime is a comparatively cheap adaption of the manga; Using the more or less the exact pictures (only coloured in) of the artist with only minimal animated effects added. If you are interested you find the anime-series at Youtube. If you want to give the manga a shot, you find free scanlations for the first volumes online at mangafox. It is excellent, but beware that "Bokura ga ita" should come together with warnings of danger to your mental health.

Mowing bees

Yesterday I had to mow our lawn. My husband, who originates from the United Kingdom always wants to achieve the perfect english lawn. You know - like in Hyde Park. Or the Wembley stadion. But he is working out of town coming home only now and then, which leaves the mowing mostly in my incapable hands. As long as I am the one mowing his chance on achieving the perfect lawn is exactly zilch. It's not that I have anything against short and evenly cut grass. But I seldom have the time to spend a whole morning or afternoon on cutting grass and that is what it would take at least. More so - we have weeds, quite a proud collection of weeds actually. You name the weed - we have it. And gardening being usually rather on the bottom of my to-do-list, the weeds are positively thriving. Right now clover is in full bloom. When you look over our back garden, the whole place is covered under a tight web of flowering white clover. There is so much of it, that walking through the back, you can smell the clover everywhere. And that says something, because if you take a single clover flower and hold it to your nose, I'd say it doesn't smell much of anything. But sheer number does it. You can smell the clover then.

So, back to beginning. I was mowing the lawn. The clover-infested lawn. When you stand really quiet for a moment and concentrate you can even hear the humming. Because of cause clover seems to be some kind of pollen-delicatessen for bees. So there are bees. Lots of them all over the clover and me mowing. Of course what happens is this. A bee is sitting on a clover flower having its way with it, doing the age-old deed of bees and flowers when suddenly a big red dirty stinking lawn mower appears and goes right over them. The sharp rotating knife is powered by a Briggs&Stratton engine and whirl relentlessly over the happy couple of coupling bee and clover. (I don't mean to mow bees, but there is no way around it.) BUT: When the lawn mower moves on the bee is nowhere to be seen.



Of course my first thought was that probably the bee gets sucked into the basket of the lawn mower together with all the cuttings. But I empty this basket again and again and have been doing this for some time now. Not once in all this time have I ever seen a bee in the cuttings. Of course it is possible that I miss them - they are not exactly fire engine red. But never in all these years have a seen a bee. I often take the cuttings out with my bare hands, I've never been stung. This mystified me enough to look rather closely at the cuttings - still no bees. Where are the bees gone? Do they make a last-minute escape despite their pollen-induced pleasure? Are they completely intoxicated by the pollen and fall deep into the cut grass? Do they get all dizzy by the whirling knife and remain unconscious hidden in the cuttings? Have they hatched an escape route from the lawn mower? To bee or not to bee - I am determined to get to the bottom of this mystery!

Circus

Today I have been to the circus for the second time this year. After I had successfully avoided it for the last 30+ years. Well, I guess I must have been to the circus at one point in my life before, but if so I have eradicated all not-so-fond memory of the event. But now I am a mother and all resistance is useless.

Both times I have been to smaller circus-companies, not the big deals that would ever make it into TV, but rather smallish family-run shows.

As I was not a circus-doer before now, I was surprised about the dirt involved. And that was as a member of the audience. Working at the circus can not be a white collar job - surprise, surprise.

Both shows featured young voluptuous women with too much bad make-up and bad taste in clothing. The people sitting front row must have had ample opportunity to look up the uterus during the gymnastics. I fear for the minds of the children in the audience whose dreams might be haunted from this scarring experience.

Both shows also featured very well shaped men of striking physique and with inspiring skin-tight trousers. Ha! I know: Pretty much the exact thing that I was complaining about on the women - I must be hetero after all!

Today's circus show showed the act of a child. She was 13 years old and the only person at today's circus show who did something that looked dangerous. It was gymnastics in the air thingy - her doing bending here and there some meters above ground. She was definitely one of the better artists today. Even so, I was pissed off. A child doing the most dangerous act. She was dressed in something that would have made my grandmother blush (not my mother - you have to go a lot further to make HER blush). She was not wearing any support. There was no net. Provided, it was just 3 or 4 meters above ground. Provided she was good, she seemed sure of what she was doing. Still - there is always risk. And being a child she can not fully understand what it is she is risking there. Her health, a thing chronically underestimated by 13-year-old girls. Her life even - if she is unlucky. And none of the other (grown-up) artists seemed willing to take any such risk. But they let a child go up there and do it. Hmmph!



The worst acts however - and in both shows - were the clowns. It's not because I dislike clowns, but I do think them kind of scary. And I do believe that the majority of clowns out there are not funny. My daughter liked the clown today. I asked her what it was she liked. She looked at me as if I asked her how many legs she has. "Well, they are clowns!!!" When this revelation failed to clear matters to her ignorant mother, she went into a detailed analysis: "He wears the clown-costume and the nose. It's funny." I wish life was that simple for me!

Why I hate poetry

When you open books you often find acknowlegements or dedications. I know that many people don't read these. I do. I read quotes that serve as introductions. I don't LIKE prologues, but I read them in case they have something to say (which quite often they don't). But books that start with poems give me the rash. I hate poetry.

Poetry is all about form. I am all about content.
Poetry is vain. It is pretentious. And it almost always sounds ridiculous when read out loud.

Someone please tell me why it is that we squeeze words in the corset of a dactylus or why anyone would want to do that? And puleeaaasssee don't mention limericks - they are nerve-wrecking!

I allow exceptions to the rule. Very seldom I find a poem that speaks to me. Even more seldom I can hear someone read a poem without starting to itch allover. One of these exceptions is John Hannah reading W.H. Audens "Funeral Blues" in "Four Weddings and a Funeral". I admit to liking that even (but I think half of that is due to the cute scottish accent). My, that was just beautifully done and Hannah so clearly transmitted that well-known feeling of utter hopelessness. If I can like any poetry it would likely be alliterative verse. Or scottish rhyming slang.


But mostly poetry is wasted on me.

Sweet Seventeen

Have you ever been in Love with someone who wasn't real? A movie character, an imaginary boyfriend, a dream lover or a person who is only alive inside a book?
I seem to have a weakness for unreal lovers. I constantly fall for the heroes in my books (not ALL of them - I do have SOME standards, only the really great ones). I am usually embarrassed to admit this, but I don't think I have ever been as embarrassed as I am right now. The latest subject of my infatuation is just turning 17. He is Japanese, sporty (high jump), but rather lanky than muscled, has black hair strands of which have a tendency to hang into his eyes and a rather reserved and quiet character. His name is Izumi Sano and he is the main male act in a very popular shoujo manga named "Hanazakari no Kimitachi e", an english translation has been published under the title "hana-kimi". For you in full blossom."

I am a complete addict to Hana-kimi. Ever since I started reading it, I have to re-read at least one, two volumes every day. This manga series has been on my mind now for about 10 days. I could kiss the postman when he brings the new volumes. I could strangle him, if he fails to deliver. I dream about the characters. Sano is not the only great character. The one I like second best is Umeda, whose humour and sharp wit I enjoy (and just maybe because he is the sexiest adult person in the series, even if he plays for the other team). But Sano has the essence of romance. He induces heartbeat to me like few grown-up male characters. I really enjoy this infatuation with Izumi Sano and "Hana-kimi" while it lasts, although I'm sure the postman will be glad, once I have all 23 volumes in the bookshelf - he must feel haunted. ;-)

Step into Mangaverse

I know. Some people think I should accept that I am too old to read Mangas. I'm not. In western societies Mangas (and Comics and more or less all graphic novels) are frowned upon by educated society. If you can read, why bother with such rubbish.
Let me explain why ...

First of all. It's not rubbish! (Okay, not ALL of it is rubbish ...) Mangas originate in Japan. You read them from the right to the left. They are often series of many volumes. They may have sweet heroines with the typical big dovey manga child eyes. And they are not for children. At least many of them aren't. There are even some mangas that have a very adult theme, like the yaoi Mangas or hentai Mangas.

If you follow my blog, I'm sure to recommend some of my favourite manga series to you. But right now I want to say a general thing about Mangas. Mangas can be serious. Crazy. Sweet. Or Icky. I can love them for their style of drawing. For good characterisation. For a captivating plot. For yummiiieeeh heroes. They are in some ways not so different from books. That is ... if you read for escapism as I do. I have heard that in Japan you can even find cookbooks in manga style. Cute idea, but I think I'll stick to stories.



Western people however have prejudices against mangas and comics that I find really unjustified. Because - as you often find in the case of prejudices - they come from people who know next to nothing about it. In Japan you can find some typical business man reading mangas the size of a telephone directory on the way home from work in the train. Possibly sitting next to a housewife with a manga and a student with another manga. There are mangas for all age classes. And the wide variety of manga makes it really likely that there is also just the right manga waiting for you out there.

About the Magic of Voices

Today I listened to Richard Ashcroft's first Solo album.

Anyone who has ever seen Ashcroft and was wearing their prescribed goggles at the time, knows that he is not ... mildly said ... the model-type. The best you could say is that he looks kind of cool and rock-stary with a face that speaks of too much drink and not enough healthy food and sleep.

Some years ago I saw Ashcroft live at the Grosse Freiheit in Hamburg, Germany. When he came out on stage, I felt like I wanted to have a word with his mother or his doctor and lecture them on how to look after a young man properly.



That is ..
until he started singing. Then suddenly he underwent a drastic metamorphosis on stage. Where just a moment before a too thin and unhealthy looking, far too-pale boy with dark shadows under his eyes had been standing, there was this rather dashing looking guy. By the end of the first song I thought he was beautiful. By the end of the fourth song I had a major crush on him. By the end of the concert I was ready to have his babies.

It is rather fortunate that only few men have the power of a voice that holds such magic for me. Otherwise I would probably have ended as a far too well-known backstage groupie.

Richard Ashcroft's voice doesn't really make me think of old days or love or any other nice thing. It just renders me unable to think at all. My braincells (the few that are left) go into stand-by modus and are replaced by endorphin inducing sound waves. I know of only a few voices that have this compelling magic over me. Ashcroft is the first that comes to mind. I already much admired his voice when he was still lead singer for "The Verve". Thom Yorke is another vocal magician who can reduce my brain to jelly within seconds.

I don't know all that much about music or music theories. What gives one voice such power? Are they simply better singers? Do they know they can do this?

Na, don't expect any answers from ME!!!
Here for you: Richard Ashcroft "Song for lovers" live.