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   | ben | boz | fil | marke | mat | micha | Überblick |
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 mat
 
This is me, myself and I. I hope you agree, when I explain my lyrics a bit, the rest is nihihu. (Never get your toaster mixed with your washing-machine, never try to mess with toothbrushes, they will overwhelm you, try to educate your coffee-spoon - just believe in it.)

Feeded:
This peace was written in 1998, the lyrics are quite old now, things have changed and often don’t look that easy. The two main topics were the life-game and the way of understanding a growing up as a certain kind of being built by the surrounding of an individual.
The story starts with Tom Waits, cleaning the loo with a fuzzy kind of look through horn-rimmed spectacles while earning his money, being somewhere else or just entertaining himself with the way things look for him. He descends, the past and its becoming, a process of constant disconnecting, protecting his box, which will never be opened and doesn’t has to, at least not by a surrounding world. Such an inner light is fragile, nihihu the surface.
Then a theatre performance is on the way. A perfect artist, playing with others while acting. Life is a game, frankness death.

Je kelko nohow / How many legs:
Being born in 2000 this is a piece which tries to describe a certain kind of homelessness. The roots, which I called my home, are shaken by day work and cycling, concretistic thoughts. Returning home, changed. The longer the walk, the longer the way and the more uncertain a return.
The three colours of the Sorbian flag: blue, red and white. Despite of all nationalistic tendencies this symbol is part of my inborn sorbian-catholic home. In the running and planning which I call my day ocean-like blue and red warmth turn to cold white colourlessness. In a permanent search for grip we run in deduction, a dazzled stumbling. Influences and experiences melt down; numbers, falling down from seven to one are just words, meditation. A Sartre-related glibbering appears, explored in moments of a fluid life-stream-boredom, cheese-holes rule, more or less cheesy. Nothingness. Darkness covers the one core of being.
Finally a possible arrival, an inner home, stormy. No solidity, this is a definite core, surface and ground, mixed with the warmth of the mother-tongue, the emotional equivalent.

Over:
Written in 2003 while feeling the loss and temporary death of a life-draft. The way of ending up something; complicated, un-contradicted and silent.

Mato, April 2004


Comment to "Je kelko nohow" by Mato Nawka:
(08.07.06 - 04:03:08)
Being born in 2000 this is a piece which tries to describe a certain kind of homelessness. The roots, which I called my home, are shaken by day work and cycling, concretistic thoughts. Returning home, changed. The longer the walk, the longer the way and the more uncertain a return.
The three colours of the Sorbian flag: blue, red and white. Despite of all nationalistic tendencies this symbol is part of my inborn sorbian-catholic home. In the running and planning which I call my day ocean-like blue and red warmth turn to cold white colourlessness. In a permanent search for grip we run in deduction, a dazzled stumbling. Influences and experiences melt down; numbers, falling down from seven to one are just words, meditation. A Sartre-related glibbering appears, explored in moments of a fluid life-stream-boredom, cheese-holes rule, more or less cheesy. Nothingness. Darkness covers the one core of being.
Finally a possible arrival, an inner home, stormy. No solidity, this is a definite core, surface and ground, mixed with the warmth of the mother-tongue, the emotional equivalent.
Mato, SH, April 2004


Comment to "Over" by Mato Nawka:
(08.07.06 - 03:59:38)
Written in 2003 while feeling the loss and temporary death of a life-draft. The way of ending up something; complicated, un-contradicted and silent.
Mato, April 2004


Comment to "Over" by Mato Nawka:
(08.07.06 - 05:07:56)
2003, this seems quite long ago, but things have changed again, fortunately.
In 2004 I wrote, that these lyrics reflect a loss and temporary death of a life-draft. By now I think, it was a real temporary loss. Originally I had problems with my ex-partner, the prison that I got to know in this relationship was opened and I was unable to really open it. So I wrote these lyrics.
Like nearly all of my lyrics these are now understandable as a process of self-healing for me. In these days I walked through Greifswald, in the north of Eastern Germany, and circled in my thoughts. Every day was cold. And I saw a relationship melt down, blinded by my circling and unable to really talk about it. I froze memories and pictures by just swallowing them. This red shoes in the lyrics are, maybe related to the picture in “Feeded”, again Tom Waits, you know, this “red shoes”- song?
Then sorbian lyrics in the middle. Very sad lyrics. I think, the eastern culture is sad very often. At least, the slav one. In the beginng I wrote, that I reflected a temporary loss. A temporary loss of a draft. The draft of a family-life. I think, kids are very smart and very much into influence. This is the nature of chilchood in a way. Kids depend on their environment. And get to know culture through the language. My mother-tongue is the sorbian one. And I had really problems in confronting myself with other cultures. The german one, for example.
All the holes, in which the mother-culture was poured were closed in the moment in which I started studying medicine in “Germany” - Greifswald or maybe earlier. I was and I am on the way to re-open them. Just to get by.
Mato, SH, July 2006
 
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