funny_herman: (Pic 2)
I can hear voices in Hans's room next door. One of them sounds like Adam's. Yes, that's his laugh.

I pull the covers up around my head and make no move to see how anyone is doing this morning -- and I feel selfish for it. After all, Danny came into the Klub last night bleeding from a knife wound, and Adam and Ophilia had escaped a fire that burned down their apartment.

Why do I suddenly feel as if I don't care? Or that I can't be bothered? I'm sure they're all fine. I did my part to help already, so there's no reason I shouldn't stay in today and continue to sleep.

This isn't like me. At all...

Victor confuses me. There. I admit it. If I could just be open with him about everything, why I keep holding back, then perhaps I can rest more comfortably. Easier said than done, as per usual.

I do care.
funny_herman: (Pic 2)
The book Danny gave me for Christmas has ushered me into the New Year with a new vision of what it means to live with one's soul bared. To be different in an unaccepting society, yet living fearlessly in its shadows, thus creating a light of one's own. A light for others to see and to follow, so that they may create their own pools of light, pockets of hope within themselves. It is your God-given struggle to exist as you were meant to be. To bare your soul. You bare it, and you bare it with defiance against everyone who says you should hide it.

For such a closed individual as myself, it is a lot to aspire to.

A visit.

Jan. 11th, 2005 01:09 am
funny_herman: (Pic 2)
A tall man dressed in a tan overcoat stands at the foot of a grave. The winter wind whips his blonde hair about and freezes the trails of tears that streak his cheeks.

He'd been standing there motionless for the past twenty minutes.

When he arrived, he bent down on one knee to clear away the withered flowers, and to replace them with a bouquet of white roses tied with a red ribbon. He wiped dirt and debris from the name carved deep into the headstone. And he knelt there for a while, his hand splayed on a mound of dry soil, blades of brown grass between his fingers. Perhaps hoping to feel something. Anything. When he felt nothing but the earth beneath his palm, he stood up.

There he remains, standing at the foot of a grave. It answers no questions, although he listens for them. It brings no new life, although he offers it half-opened buds.

But the roses will wither again, the ribbon will blow away, dirt will encrust the stone that bears his love's name.

And he stands so still he can almost feel the planet revolve under his feet. He wishes it would stop, and turn backwards, so he could take that night back. A wish that goes ungranted.

Ten more minutes pass before he turns around, his hands in his pockets, and walks toward the gates, not bothering to wipe away his frozen tears.
funny_herman: (Pic 2)
Last Christmas, I received presents for two. Something for me, and something for the Maestra. When I brought them home, she was surprised but grateful that even though she had no time to visit the Klub, her old friends still cared about her.

It would have been a Christmas for three this year...but it's just me.

As I shop, I come across things that I would have bought for them. A journal with a blue leather cover, for when notes would strike her in the middle of the day. A handmade infant-sized pillow on which a sweet, elderly woman would have embroidered his name.

The woman asked me if there was anyone special in my life for whom she could customize one of her wooly, knitted items. I was about to say no, when I saw a black scarf with thin white stripes woven into it lengthwise. I picked it up and asked her if she could embroider the initials "FS" onto one end. She smilingly obliged and bade me to sit down to watch, if I wanted. I still had quite a bit of shopping to do, but I did sit down, and I observed as her knobby, leathery fingers begin to steadily knit the letter "F" with red yarn. She wanted to know if this "FS" was perhaps my sweetheart. I laughed and said no, that she was only a close friend.

Her conversation revealed to me that she was 76 years old, and had outlived three husbands, four children, and dozens of friends. She herself did not expect to see another Hanukkah, but she took comfort in the fact that she had lived through enough happy ones to last a lifetime. Though sadly, they are all but memories to her now.

When she was finished, I paid her a little extra, and she wished me a joyful Christmas.

The rest of the women on my list:
For Ophilia, a pair of red lace gloves. Maybe not very practical for winter weather, but I think they're sexy anyway.
For Fantine, a rather oversized hardcover book containing photos of works of art, both paintings and sculptures, from famous museums around the world.
I bought a nice rose earring and pin set for Dolores. The appearance of the delicate roses may seem less "severe" than she's used to, so I hope she'll like it.
For Fraulein Kost, a beaded anklet.
For little Helga, a silver bird pendant with a violet crystal.

And now, the men:
I found a jazz record for Danny, by a German group called Die Goldene Sieben [The Golden Seven].
Hans was a little difficult to shop for, but since I have not seen him with a warm hat, I decided to get him a tweed cap.
As for Adam, I thought he might like a stylish cigarette case.
I really had no idea what to buy for Victor, but I saw this print of a horn player and thought he might like to have it for his new room.

And with that, my Christmas shopping is done.
funny_herman: (Pic 2)
With the last of the patrons gone, and after sending Danny and Frankie away to do their dirty work (they happily obliged), I remain downstairs in the Klub to close up.

I rather like the place after hours. One can still feel the energy that was once there just hovering in the air, gradually disspating like the cigarette smoke. It's quiet, except for the occasional squeaky floorboard beneath my feet, and the soft swish of the broom sweeping up the debris the evening's merrymaking.

Speaking of merrymaking, I think tomorrow morning I shall procure for ourselves a little Christmas tree. Perhaps some decorations as well.

And suddenly my head is filled with the swirling memories of past holidays, and everything that comes with this time of year. I can never really let go.

The sweeping done, I head backstage to shut off all the house lights, vaguely wondering where Victor had disappeared to, as he'd said he wanted to go over some sheet music.
funny_herman: (B-n-W)
Danny's bed was not so uncomfortable after all... Now why on earth did I even doubt that?

I could not help but straighten things out a little, just a bit. Just some items on his table and on his dresser. That was all. And I made the bed even though I know full well that it will promptly be unmade once Danny returns.

On the way back to the Klub, I stop at a nearby café for a late breakfast of coffee and a danish. As I eat at a window table, I wonder if Fraulein Kost is all right. Should I pay her a visit? I highly doubt that she would be pleased to see me, of all people. I pass on the decision for the time being.

Hopefully Ophilia is feeling better today. Hopefully Frankie's neighbors were not kept awake all night. And hopefully Victor... Well, I'm not sure what I hope for Victor just yet. I try to keep from smiling as I think of his smooth American drawl. ...Quite honestly, it makes me want to melt.

Shaking myself free of all that, I finish my breakfast and leave the café. It is a brisk day and I walk quickly with my hands deep in my pockets. Upon arriving at the Klub, I push the door open, and the sound of piano notes hits my ears before they abruptly stop. I close the door and make my way through the room, shedding my jacket, and I see Victor alone on the stage.

So much...

Nov. 22nd, 2004 12:47 am
funny_herman: (Pic 2)
Well, this Halloween was certainly interesting. I think everyone's costumes were absolutely splendid. Perhaps the most ambitious was Dolores, who showed up as...Danny. And Frankie kept the Greek tradition alive by not wearing anything under her shift.

However, not everything was fun and games. Fraulein Kost was not in the best of spirits. Ophilia told me that something drastic had happened between them. I felt it was not my business to inquire any further, and I was sure that Kost was not about to tell me anything deeper regarding the situation. Instead she wanted to drink, which, of course, she was free to do. But in all honesty, I did not want her to get drunk. She had gotten ahold of the rum and nearly finished it before I knew it. And after that, things simply went downhill from there.

I should have known better not to tease her. Then again, I didn't even realize I was teasing her. I just wanted to find a way to get her to listen to me so I could take her home. I'm still sore from both her physical and verbal affronts. In fact, I think the verbal hurt more than the physical. And I don't think she believed me when I apologized. She was too drunk.

Fortunately, the evening was salvaged by the appearance of Victor.

Ahh, Victor. It was difficult not to flirt with him. And what a surprise it was for me when the flirting seemed to actually go somewhere. It could have led to something else had I not been dead tired, but I must remember that he himself is only just getting back on his feet.

How did a biologist from Montana end up in a nightclub in Berlin? I have no earthly idea. But hopefully he will stay for a while. I suppose that tomorrow we shall see how he can fit into our nightly stage production.

Ophilia has been rather ill all evening, so she is staying in my room tonight. I discreetly changed out of my costume in front of her. Sometimes I think I should not have to be so discreet with her.

I am spending the night at Danny's apartment, since he has attached himself to Frankie. And I do believe that something special was happening tonight, and that Dolores is involved, what with her having dressed up as our New York Yank, and Frankie's penchant for pinstripes, and Danny's penchant for anything female.

I must say...Danny really is a bit of a slob.

And his mattress has a slight dip down the center. No comment about that.

I don't mind the persistent scent of marinara sauce wafting up the stairs, though.
funny_herman: (B-n-W)
A an array of clothing in varying shades of green and brown lies spread out on Herman's bed.

One by one, Herman puts them on, starting with a pair of forest green tights (that thankfully were available in his size); a lighter green short-sleeved button-down shirt made of a soft felt-like material; a dark brown kidskin tunic fastened by leather laces; and a wide, brown leather belt that fits snugly around his waist, including a sheath containing a fake, blunt-bladed dagger.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulls on a pair of calf-length boots, also made of dark brown kidskin, their scalloped tops folded down. He stands up and takes a few steps in them, satisfied with their fit. He then picks up a quiver of arrows made of burlap and leather stitching and slings it over his shoulder (the arrows are just wooden sticks with feathers on the ends of them -- they don't actually have points). Picking up a pointed hat, dark green in color and with a single bright red feather tucked in its band, he straightens it out and places it squarely on his head. He grabs a three-foot-long bow stringed with twine and slips that over his shoulder as well.

He observes his reflection in a mirror.

"Douglas Fairbanks, eat your heart out."

With a snicker and a shake of his head, he leaves his apartment and goes downstairs.
funny_herman: (Pic 2)
The best thing that has ever happened here in quite a while: Helga has returned. I have not felt this happy in so long... Just to see her face again was enough. She's changed a little bit, though, I think. But that could just be my imagination.

So, hopefully our little "family" will settle back into some sort of routine.

In the meantime, I have searched high and low for a Halloween costume. Last year's attempt at livening up the Klub was a success if I do say so myself. Maybe more patrons will come in dressed up as well.

I was a vampire...I'm looking for something not so gory this time...maybe something...heroic...? Hmm...

Ah...of course!

With my purchased bundle of clothing and accessories, I rush back to my apartment, grinning like an imp.
funny_herman: (Default)
Herman softly closes the door to Adam's room and heads down the hallway, looking for the nurse whose care he is under. He sees her pushing a cart laden with medical supplies into another room.

"Excuse me, nurse," he calls out.

She stops halfway into the room and turns to him. "Yes?"

"I'd like to speak with you about Adam Grant, if you have a moment."

Her agreeable face instantly turns sour. "What did he do this time?"

Herman shakes his head. "Nothing," he replies.

"Well, that's a surprise. He's hardly had a moment awake where he didn't need to be restrained."

He clears his throat. "Yes, well, he's under quite a bit of stress, as you can imagine. And when he's under stress, he tends to put others under stress. In addition, I don't think he's healing as rapidly as he should -- because of this stress. Now, wouldn't you agree that if he were treated more pleasantly, he'd recover faster? And that the faster he recovers, the quicker he'd be out of here? And then you wouldn't have to deal with him anymore. It's all quite logical, don't you think?" He ends this with a warm smile.

When she still expresses doubt, he presses on. "I'm not saying that you yourself or any of the nurses or doctors have to enjoy yourselves completely in his presence. I'm only suggesting that the less you aggravate him -- no matter how much he aggravates you -- the faster he heals. And that, my dear woman, is the main point of my whole argument. Because he wants out of this hospital just as much as you want him out."

She appears to mull this over. And she can't help but fall under the influence over his nearly hypnotic tone of voice and those glacier-blue eyes. After a few moments, she says in a low, thoughtful, yet wary tone, "I'll consider this." And she pushes her cart into the room.

Herman sighs, and proceeds down the hallway.


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