KW 52/23

KW 52? Is it really? I can not believe it! We've finally reached the last week of the year and I have actually managed the impossible: to publish a post EVERY week for an ENTIRE year!!

In hindsight this doesn't even feel like a big deal at all. 52 times…I mean, 52 is not a ridiculouly high number that grows over your head, like if it was followed by 6 digits. 52 is in fact pretty manageable...even in different contexts

52 push ups, 52 Euros, 52 cents, 52 days, 52 pieces of cake, 52 freckles, 52… its small..its nothing really.

Especially compared to all the other countless repetitive acts one performs on a day2day base without paying further attention to it. I.e. the bathroom routine. If I look at those numbers, 52 would not even be worth a mention:

730 x dental care (without flossing), 365x applying make-up/365x taking it off (not including special occasions), 1825x toilet visits for different reasons, 365x getting dressed/365x undressed (without taking into account work-outs, exceptional weather conditions, massages, stains of any kind or sexual intercourse)

1095x boiling the kettle...

What the fuck am I doing? Isn't time too precious to waste it writing about LIFE rather then living it?
Spreading honey on bread just for effect. Not for consumption but to make it "Instagrammable" and sparkle in the rising sun. Take a bite and get the fuck out!!!

KW 51/23

Geräuschkulisse (in Gedanken)
Schweisstropfen kullern über nasse Haut. Hände verwischen Feuchtigkeit. Zischen und Knistern von Wasser auf siedend heissem Stein. Surrender Kühlschrank, Tickende Uhr. Stift beim Schreiben auf Papier..widerspenstig... abruptes Abreißen..Summen einer zusammenhanglosen Melodie. Verpufft im Raum. Wolken in der Auflösung. Knacken eines Stuhl unter Gewicht. Weichen der Luft aus einem Kissen. Kratzen auf der Haut. Hängenbleiben an einer Erhebung. Ausstülpung der Wirklichkeit. Aufgekratzt. Vertieft. Blubberndes Blut. Sickernd...wie klingt ROT? (Modulation zu schwarz...)Zungen schnalzen. Magenknurren. Schritte auf leisen Sohlen. Klirren von Glas. Vibrationsalarm. Abgleiten von der Tischkante. 17:41 auf der I-watch. 46 auf der Küchenuhr. Sekundenzeiger. Herzschrittmacher. Immer einen Schritt voraus. Immer weiter... Daseinskotze. Klospülung. 

KW 50/23

Nearly done (with '23) before it ll start all over again. 

Stille am SOnntag morgen. Der Morkie liegt friedlich zusammengerollt an meiner Seite und schläft. Auf dem Beistelltischen eine brennende Kerze und ein Becher dampfender Tee. 

10:30 atmosphärische Momentaufnahmen aus dem Alltag
Satzfetzen und Gespräche am Nebentisch, Werbung, Wetter, Nachrichten

zu improvisierten Sprachexperimenten verbinden

Bedingt durch die zeitversetzte Aufnahme können sich die „Sprecher“ nicht gegenseitig hören und fallen sich mitunter ins Wort oder reden aneinander vorbei.
Dieser Effekt ist beabsichtigt und erschafft eine latent kommunikationskritische Färbung.

KW 49/23

Payback card? NO!!! And I do not wish to be pestered with this question by every single cashier on earth either!
And you A()I, Stop licking urself all the time!!! God damn it. What' the f*** is wrong with you???

I've got no idea what to write about. My minds gone blank. This week's been exclusively about 

𝄆 work, work, work  𝄇    / repeat till 4ever

A real job required (me) to shut up and perform ( ) as asked. This meant primarily: attending pointless calls to talk about nothing with no effect but wasting time...to justify "being on a pay-roll".
But ok - Let's give the titanic a touchup/rebrush while its sinking. (Gotta earn a living at some point)

Took me a couple of days to get down to the level of mental skill required but about half way in I switched into the required mode, performing the tasks I got asked to do: editing pointless points.

like a robot

dulled. no feeling, no will, no drive - just efficiency. pure function.
basically AI, but made of flesh and blood. Well...rotten meat and deoxygenated blood.

Every crumb of residual energy/purpose/sense, hiding in the farthest corners of my bod(i)y got detected and destroyed.

Now I'm left with:

No vision. Lorem ipsum Lorem ipsum Lorem ipsum. Störer: nequam, vilis, inaestimabilis, inutilis, futilis, futtilis, insumptuosus, parvus, parvos, parvulus, amphitheatricus 

(Hashtag: cheap, worthless, latin - or may be used as "Fuck you"

Stargirl Interlude. 

KW 48/23

Her face was round and oily with half closed eye lids and lips that curved into a stupid smile. (#morning_portrait)

I'm back!
Business people all over the world suddenly inquired about my availability on tasks AI doesn't seem to solve to their satisfaction yet.

Needless to say that this resulted into me feeling relieved and ecstatic as if (I)* had turned into "Wonder Woman" overnight. Of course the 80 year old wrinkled version, not the 20 year old Lynda Carter.
But still: marvelous!

The obvious explanation for this:

Mars, Pluto and some other planets had a gathering (probably a little x-mas coalition) and Pluto (as always hard drinking and sulking) on his way to the rest room dangerously swaying, didn't quite make it there, stopped (coincidently above my head) and threw up, leaving me covered in stardust.

KW47/23

Maybe some birds aren't meant to be caged...

A week of fading lights, impossible mirrors and infinity frames being forced into confinement - to sum things up: "struggle" at all ends.
Don't know why I seem to be incapable to ever complete a (work of art). It literally causes me pain to FRAME an image, let alone getting it framed. If I'm not forced to react in the way that I i.e. have a deadline to meet, there is no way that I voluntarily ever make that final call.
When it comes to signing an artwork...I refuse...framing....I refuse...
I feel as if I carry my newborn straight to prison and leave it there to its own devices and sentenced to live imprisonment.
Even though a part of me admires the craft of archival framing, researching various Linen tapes, studying T,V and S hinges, viewing mat boards in 50 shades of white, examining frames in a hundred different materials textures, thicknesses and glas types... 
everything under the premise to cause the least damage, the prospect of being fixed for good terrifies me tremendously as if I became a victim of Procrustes, the stretcher himself.

KW 46/23

What do u (do)?

Why?

Ur not obliged 

to (_)

SIT DOWN

Let it rain

Free ur mind

♥

"If Only I Were Not Obliged to Manifest"

Blanchot, Beckett, Adorno ...Negative Ästhetik - was am Boden der dialektischen Zwickmühle gefunden werden kann, ist Heimweh nach der alles erklärenden Theologie. Ich höre nicht auf zu suchen...grabe..grabe..grabe...

Immer mit dem Gefühl, noch nicht angekommen zu sein. Unruhe in Permanenz. Ab-arbeiten am Leben. Ewige Suche nach Wertschöpfung und am Ende jeden Tages die bohrende Kassensturz-Frage: Hat es sich "gelohnt"?

DAS entscheidet sich - entgegen der weit verbreiteten Vorstellung - eben nicht daran, wie viel Geld am Ende des Tages in der Kasse ist, sondern erst im Nachhinein, frei nach Kierkegaard "Das Leben wird vorwärts gelebt und rückwärts verstanden"

KW 45/23

Animierte, farbige Punkte flattern über das Platzhalter Emoji am oberen Bildschirmrand - was is da los? Mach sofort die unkoordinierten Farben da weg!! But...the "machine" does not care. Neither about me nor my Chromophobia. It reminds me rude, disrespectful, aggressive, brutal, crude, vulgar, dass HEUTE  () Geburt-s-TAG ist und die Sanduhr abermals umgedreht werden muss, ob ich will oder nicht.
So, wie auch jedes Jahr wieder 52 klapprige Wochenskelette in Grundstellung vor mir liegen, um sich sukzessive "einkleiden" zu lassen.
Unbefleckt, auf Entjungferung wartend...jeder einzelne Tag.
Ein Tag wie ein Jahr..Sommer/Winter, Tag und Nacht, 1 Jahr in 24 Stunden. 1 Jahr in 1 Stunde...1 Minute...10 Sekunden...

Habe mir eine Kerze (eigentlich ein Teelicht - aber das klingt nicht so gut) angezündet. Die Flamme zuckt unregelmäßig, zum Sound eines wimmernden Kindes (muss heulen und weiss nicht warum)
A()I liegt zusammengerollt zu meinen Füssen und schläft, nachdem er sich sinnlos (beim Ballspielen) verausgabt hat.

KW 44/23

Lâche-toi et va-t-en.

KW 43/23

If you try to hard you will only come up with "the about" and won't discover anything.

Why do things happen? How do things happen? How do I make things happen? When is something worth its money? How much?
Questions in space. No answers.
How can one align intention with action and MAKE a decent LIVING?

In actual fact, it's been a while since I worked FOR money, making me question the value of my DOINGS.
I mean, it's not that I don't work. I work on average 14 hrs a day (deducting 7 hrs for sleep and 3 for grocery shopping/ cooking/laundry and dog care )
But I do not seem to arrive anywhere. It's like working in mining or a black hole.

Six weeks ago I got a commission, hence an authorized production of an image, that I'll eventually get $$$ for.
The brief: A portrait of a person (I do not know) in a style (that hasn't been defined).
I should just write the sentence "I don't know you, but I needed the money" on a canvas of appropriate size. Shadow gap around it. Done. But... I fear that this might disappoint the client and does not justify a couple of grand.
Truth is, I'd probably already earned that amount, had I worked at a diner at minimum wage. That's how much time I've invested so far. Effective as always. Well done!

KW 42/23

 INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION, INTUITION,

KW 41/23

No time to live / With all the _ and _
So sick of it all. Of washing the withered flesh curtains / brushing the rotten mouths / clipping the matted wings - to fit the system. Tired, of pulling myself together - every morning anew - and yet slowly slipping deeper and deeper / into _(VOID?) That's not even the proper term to describe my current (mood), as I assume VOID would not feel so unbearable. In fact, void would be salvation compared to this mire of _(lets call it "pressured insignificance"). Every attempt to find a solution to cope with this paralyzing "antimatter" seems futile. A bottomless pit. I can't take anymore..
All I ask for is a little time to live! To breathe! ROOM to simply be! In peace and... do NOTHING.

Not having to be constantly on alert to do something useful because everything has become so incredibly efficient. I mean...how is it even possible that there's no time to left to ...breathe? Isn't that what every single individual on this planet should be entitled to? To just BE like a blade of grass
Once not to worry about injustice, violence, poverty... in general or in my case bleeding on paper to "make a living" and yet - not feeling that I am alive.

...Why can this "crazy havoc" we live in, not be stopped? Respiratory arrest for everyone! Freeze frame!

Anyhow...I gotta go. ..find a place where I can just be....Take what little courage I got left...get rid of what has been...And go away / Find a new destination....but first things first: Running 2hrs late to get sth to eat.

Note to self: need to find a _ place where living and meals are provided so me and A(K)I can just exist_

KW 40/23

The age of “_” is upon us.

* * *

Leaning on a cleanish dumpster 

that as yet, has not felt flame,

an 8 bit black bird flies across

the screen of the world, cawing: 

AD HOC!

KW 39/23

"What was I gonna say?"

"Small in format but mighty in thought, MC's "receipts" hilight a keen sense of play as well as an attuned sensitivity to both language and the shifting nature of meaning, blurring the boundaries between life and art, authorship and intimacy." The New York Times ...in time.

KW 38/23

Another weekend. Another weather Umschwung. Another existential crisis. Feeling befuddled and erratic as usual but this time accompanied by a heavy note of futility. 
If my life was a fragrance it had stale ordinariness as top note, followed by a melange of dullness and regret as heavy heart note, dissolving into a base, which could be described as "burnt earth" . 
Throughout the whole week it's been really stressing me out putting my victim looks together. If my mood was a hairstyle I'd be bald with bump plague. The only good thing: lost tons of weight naturally from pure rage and disgust.  

KW 37/23

oder auch 38, 39, 42 - who cares? Morgenseiten, Mittagsseiten, Abendseiten. Egal. Streng genommen ist es jetzt 09:19, was man noch unter "Morgen"verbuchen könnte, doch nach meinem Körpergefühl zu urteilen, ist es bereits spät in der Nacht. Unendlich gerädert, müde - erschöpft vom bloßen DASEIN.
Vita wie ein Hallux valgus: Irreversibel. Ist die (Zehen)fehlstellung erstmal entstanden, kann der Prozess durch bessere (Schuh)wahl leider nicht mehr rückgängig gemacht werden.
Würde so gerne schlafen, entspannen, auf dem Rücken liegend, die Läufe von mir gestreckt, wie der kleine Morkie, aber darf nicht. Etwas zwingt mich zur Geschäftigkeit, brüllt mich an: "Nur Leistungsträger erhalten einen Daseinsberechtigungsschein".
Starre an mir herab und um mich herum - all das Zeug, dass heute wieder erledigt werden muss. (...) Alles ein einziger Krampf, Pain in the a** - vom Augapfel bis in die Zehenspitzen. "Du solltest Yoga machen...oder autogenes Training, Meditation..."- Jahhaaaa! das baue ich auch gern noch ein in meinen 26-Stunden Tag. Hab ich sogar schon mal versucht...vor ein paar Jahren und damals sogar fast täglich "praktiziert."
Dumpf hallt es manchmal noch im Oberstübchen. Die letzten Worte der Yogi-Liturgie: "Es gibt nichts mehr zu tun". Lache mich tot.
Jetzt aber schnell Zähne putzen und dann los: Nitro Verdünner kaufen

KW 36/23

Just spent 26 mins trying to log into my Blogger account, since the machine, I'm writing this on, decided to run an unauthorized update, prior to requiring this information. At first I thought recalling passwords wouldn't be an issue at all, because of course I have an app that fixes exactly this problem.
Needless to say, it wouldn't be that simple as all electronic devices obviously decided to ally against me this week.
Starting off with my I-Phone asking me on Monday (at the crack of dawn) to re-enter the PIN Code to its Sim Card. How am I supposed to know?! This PIN got determined when I purchased the phone about a decade ago. It's like asking me from the top of my head what I did on the 4th of December 1991.

Where is Face ID when you need it?

This website uses cookies from Google to provide services and analyze traffic. Your IP address and user agent are shared with Google along with performance and security metrics. This allows usage statistics to be generated, cases of abuse to be detected and rectified, and the quality of the service to be guaranteed.

Click "OK"  or  (burn in hell)
Yeah,yeah, yeah... alright! (I know it's my only m*therfucking option, if I want to continue...)

  

KW 35/23

Better late than never.

KW 34/23

Everywhere bits, pieces and empty containers... 

It's been a Thursday at precisely 6:30 p.m. The evening started like any other: Meatloaf. For the third time this week. But let's not go there. After all the evening turned out to be quite eventful...

Le matin je me lève à 5 heures comme toujours. C'est pas vrai mais ça sonne plus intéressante que 7 heures.

...It's time to fill the frames.

If I know what I want, why don't I go and get it?

Compiling what happened this week, could be a simple task. I could just make a list. I could start with Monday, end with Sunday or any other day. Or I could start with a date like i.e. Tuesday the 22/08/23 -  but either way, this information is utterly pointless and completely hollow without a content. 

It's like an empty frame, an empty tupperware (with missing lid) or an old price tag on a garment never worn. Something once purchased with an intention (maybe even at high-price) but long paid and forgotten. There could have been s.th in this...(potentially)...but whatever it may have been, it never happened or vanished in oblivion.

It simply left no trace. Nothing worth mentioning. As if it never existed. Or? What happened on (say) Thursday? Anything noteworthy?

An old woman collecting bottles, suddenly shouting : "My father was an influential businessman".
Somebody talking to me about the importance of dog school (impulse control and frustration tolerance, cooling down...) 
making me wonder, whether I could participate if I went on all fours. 
Do they also teach "Decision Making/FOCUS" and "Letting Go" of... things there? I mean..its not that I am "per se" indecisive but I can rarely stick with a thought for longer than 30 seconds. I.e. I can hardly open the door to my storage room without being burried by an avalanche of bags and boxes, mostly empty or containing things I don't really need like: my fear of rejection, an ancient hoarding disorder, commitment phobia...

Challenge for next week:

- stick sth unremovable to sth else (tape to paper)

- eat (3! peas)

- drink enough during the day (but not the lake district in one go)

- buy the groceries I intend to (not the whole grocery store)

- get 6 Eggs (not a chicken or a farm)

- get rid of at least 1 empty container

KW 33/23

KW 32/23

In retrospect, this week feels like an endless silent movie, yet it was packed with bangers, that probably numbed me a fair bit.

The weather switched about twenty times an hour as if the sky was made of holographic glitter in the hand of an epileptic. So did my body and mind.
Since there was nothing, demanding my presence, I decided to leave this moloch again for a few days. Of course this decision immediately led to a packing dilemma (which I always encounter when I leave the flat for more than 24 hours). To further increase the stress level before departure, I missed the post delivery guy and had to travel to the end of the f** commuter belt to pick up the parcel. Meanwhile, the street got blocked off. When I returned I had to pave my way through police and fire brigade cars, since apparently the neighbor's house caught fire. After that I witnessed an old lady using her handbag in self defense, a long-time neighbor moving out and my dog lifting his leg for the first time. 

KW 31/23

Die Kalenderwoche für heute ist 31.
Sie dauert von Montag, den 31.07.2023 bis Sonntag, den 06.08.2023. 

Heute ist Samstag, der 5. August 2023. So strictly speaking, I could still summarize this week by tomorrow and wait for something noteworthy to happen. But if things continue as they are, I might as well do it now. So far the headliners are:
• a jammed bicycle lock
• a freshly cleaned balcony seating area, which various birds took as an invitation for a collective dump
• 39 failed attempts to get an appointment at the Citizen's Office

KW 30/23

Things I could elaborate upon this week:
the sour smell of a half-digested flokati, that hit me right at the beginning of the week.
The absence of sunlight, while I'd just decided to develop some prints requiring strong UV light.
The vast amounts of water, that fell out of the sky turning the nearby campus into a Glastonbury mud venue (obviously someone up there must have been suffering of incontinence).
Me being obliged to clean the fur ball 6 times a day (in consequence of him attending Glastonbury, unable to stage-dive), which left me with no time to clean myself. The compulsion to publish this post exactly at 11:11 although I did not make a decision as to what point should be pursued further.

KW 29/23

This week would have been more fruitful in a vegetative state. Pretty much everything sucked and sacked.
Among the obvious brittle hair, withered flesh, dull eye(s) the look in the mirror returned uplifting questions such as: What on earth am I doing here? Why am I still sitting in this dump of a city? Why is money always an issue (although I am virtually old enough to retire)? WTF is wrong with me? 
To top it all off I reviewed my old body of work, a.k.a. my life’s „achievements“resembling a waste disposal site. What I'd once considered genius had gone rotten and left me dumb-founded.
What the hell was I thinking? Who is ever going to be interested in this? Even puke appears more coherent. 
I felt the strong desire to set fire to everything but resisted. Why? I ain't got a clue...

KW 28/23

This week A(K)I and me had the opportunity to escape the capital heatwave and spend a few days in quadruped paradise (at least according to the local conditions). Unfortunately though certain people are of such annoying nature, that even as a cuddly toy they’d be a horrendous nuisance.
It’s impossible to escape these subpar intelligent gossips, as they tend to nest in family circles like ticks in dog's fur. With greedy eyes they watch out to nip every trace of joy in the bud. 

Thankfully I had planned to spend the majority of the time away from "pet cemetery", visiting the local outdoor pool. Then of course that got sabotaged, as somebody set fire to it (incidentally also causing a 2 million damage).
However... In order to make lemonade out of lemons and pay justice to the joyful nature that I am, I tried to remain optimistic.
That was before I woke up in the morning with a stye in the eye, leaving me with only one intact organ of sight, looking like a cyclop throughout the week.
Finally (a day before departure) A(K)I got a new haircut, which completely disfigured him. He now resembles an evil gremlin as it is apparently possible to remove hair in the wrong places. But at least this pays tribute to the idea that a dog should fit its owner.

KW 27/23

As a realist with a slight tendency towards doom and gloom, I tend to expect the apocalypse every day. One could say, I rehearse the serious case on a daily basis. It's the default setting.

Therefore news that send gullible optimists into a deep depression (i.e. "bad" weather forecasts) come as natural to me, as cereal for breakfast or (in case you don't eat cereal or have breakfast)"taking a dumb".
That being said, many people seem reluctant to the fact that they have a digestive system. In fact, they'd rather sell their souls to the devil than ever being caught purchasing toilet paper (#pandemic_is_over)

Generally speaking, optimists have a talent for ignoring the hard facts. The sun is always shining either up their ass or hidden somewhere inside.
Summer is peak season for optimists. It can never be hot enough for them to wallow in the heat and bread their sweaty bodies. Their enthusiasm levels rise simultaneously to the outside temperature. Hard times for realists like me to get by. 
So far, I've been able to avoid these people but since the arrival of the morkie, I am forced to interact with the outside world several times a day. Therefore I'm trying to adjust to their climate. After all, one shouldn't expect the worst every day, right?!

KW 26/23

It's officially July (#half time), meaning 50% of the year have already been and gone and I'll fear it'll be X-mas the day after tomorrow.
Its not even noon yet and I've already been up for a whole business day, before the rest of the world did even have its morning coffee.
This is worth mentioning as until recently, the so-called "early-bird-life" seemed to me like a spawn of hell. I mean..who seriously chooses voluntarily to get up before 10 given the choice?
To me the early riser has always been a questionable figure that sparked as much excitement as a rice cracker. However...
NOW. Things changed. And I gotta admit, there is something quite captivating between 5- and 7am.
Perhaps the biggest benefit of this hour interval: There's still the possibility to exploit the full potential of the day. Nothing's lost (yet).
Then of course, everything is reasonably CALM. It's either that or I have turned deaf. I notice hardly any distracting noises, vehicles or humans, one has to avoid. Tourist-Trolley-Crowds are still asleep, as are breakfast halls and coffee shops. The emptiness on the streets makes me take a deep breath as if I'd just survived the apocalypse and for an instant I almost feel at peace with this rotten city.
The same seems to go for the morkie, who walks obediently besides me, as if he had never been "off-line"
However, the relief is short lived.

When returning home after 9, the day is practically over. First I have to groom the morkie, check his fur for ticks, sticks and all sort of rubbish. If I'm lucky this will be a matter of minutes...else it'll be like yesterday. An hour got lost in anal hygiene, in other words: cleaning his a**hole (FSK 18) And that's not all.
AFTER (that): (Despite being up 8 hours before noon) I gotta face the fact that I didn't cross "a thing" of my to do list. Actually I didn't even manage to compile the to do list. By this time my physical state resembles an old lady with hip-, back and joint problems who would be better off in a nursing home (need level 3)
I mean, I could really do with a break, like the morkie. But while he has time to rest (whenever he is not eating or having fun) I've got to get on with everything else that life commands (cleaning the dishes, load up the washing, grocery shopping (preferably before 10h)...replace the watch strap. not to mention "work to earn a living".

Through the open doors my tired eyes turn to the right, to ally with the unmade bed against me. Just give us a 2 minute break, I hear my swollen feet whine.
Just one more deep breath of cool air squeezing through the tilted window, my lungs beg. My ears don't trust the silence. Sounds flow in. Rustling of leaves, running water, doors slamming shut and suddenly a voice... singing (heartbreakingly intense) "Illusion never changed /Into something real /I'm wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn / You're a little late / I'm already T-O-R-N"
And this pretty much sums up the week.

KW 25/23

Weeks fly by at the blink of an eye and I can't report any bigger achievement than walking, playing, petting, grooming and providing food for A(K)I. Slowly but surely he is taking over my life. Whoever claimed that puppies sleep 20 hours a day, probably gave them valium for breakfast.
As A(K)I grows and prospers, his demands grow and prosper too. A 10 mins walk might have been sufficient enough a week ago, now return home under an hour.
After rabies vaccination on friday, he had ants in his pants, as if he were actually rabid. And in general his energy level just seem everlasting.
Sometimes, after he has completely exhausted himself on a extensive walk, I stand a small chance to have a small "break" while he's taking a tiny "power nap" - I'm choosing the term power nap deliberately, with emphasis on POWER, because this monster is not really sleeping but recharging its batteries at lightning speed. Unfortunately this does not even give me enough time for a quick shower, which is why I currently look like a scruffy tramp.
While he's lying on the floor, looking sweet and innocent, (anyone who falls for this trap is hugely mistaken) he's just regaining his power like a well known Avenger from the Marvel Universe, ready to attack again.

KW 24/23

After two weeks with A(K)I, I entered a whole new world without leaving the house further than 500 yards. This is primarily due to the new schedule that was imposed on me.
In fact, I can't even remember when I last slept in and dilly-dallied the day away. It's simply not an option anymore once the day starts at 4:43 and one "carries" responsibility for an innocent being.  All over a sudden material and reality merge and everything just becomes about presence.
My biological clock immediately adjusted to the day wake rhythm of a little fur ball, constantly craving the attention of me or at least my feet. As soon as the first sun ray creeps through the curtain, he whimpers and I have to carry him outside if I want to avoid a Jackson Pollock carpet, speckled with piss.
Within days I learned to x-ray the surface condition of the ground, judging every square centimeter of the Berlin malaise by its degree of filth. Even more NOW than ever before as the slightest inattentiveness can lead to major problems. And I'm not just talking asphalt; even a lawn can hold massive dangers (Who would have thought that i.e. awns, some bristle-like appendage of gras, cause a three digit vet bill)
And the fun doesn't just stop there. About a hundred times a day I gotta check the puppy snout to remove "I don't know what" as it discovers something irresistible on every disgusting inch of surface.
So, I figured, in theory it would help to have a fellow sufferer to talk to. Ask for advice how to avoid all the obstacles out there. In theory! As usual this went a little bit out of control.
Once you get in the routine of standing at one particular corner every morning around the same time (like a hooker) with a cute swiffer attached to you, you get a taste of "celebrity burden".
You literally become a tourist attraction. To make matters worse an outgoing personality paired with demaraction problems, doesn't particulary yell "FUCK OFF" 
Since last week I got 397 new contacts (just counting the 2-legged ones). And for reasons I can't recall, I joined a group, who I have nothing in common with but a hairy companion.

However, despite all those exhausting obstacles, I regained a lust for life.
All over a sudden life seems to have a purpose besides surrendering into mind spirals and brainstorming original endings / gravestone inscriptions.
For the first time in years, I am actually glad, to wake up and carry a borderline stupid grin on my face, watching this furry thing roll around the floor or even just by sitting in front of me!
OMG, I am actually HAPPY!
Hopefully I wont end up like Annie Lennox, who revealed she might never be able to create again - because she is too happy.

KW 23/23

Me and my new flatmate after the first week together. Still on dawn patrol but slowly getting in the flow...    

KW 22/23

Did I expect this week to be a total game changer at the beginning of this year? No, I didn’t. But in hindsight it seems that life changing events do have a tendency to occur at the blink of an eye in a moment when u least expect it on a day, without any greater significance to the rest of the world. 

KW 21/23

Her fragrance of choice was fresh garlic.

Imagine his surprise when he discovered that the safe was full of pudding.

Pair your designer hat with scuba gear for a memorable occasion.

KW 20/23

II: Peace, Silence, Rhythm, Structure, Consistency,Endurance,...

X pulls on a cigar
Y pulls on the strings of a guitar
X pulls on pants
Y pulls on a bra

Everything under the sun, it was born to be free
The shadow is bound to the tree
And cannot leave with the traveler
The battle is fought on the daily basis

As long as there is a breath of life, there's always hope
Defeat the strife, don't let go that rope

Sometimes you got to stop and breathe. Breathe with me.

Well, all right...:II 

(Last night) a (DJ) saved my life.

KW 19/23

Travelling and waste removal have a lot in common, if they are not in essence the same: the placement of a simple substance at a particular point in time (E=mc...) It all depends on the context and the value one places on an existence. The only question is: "Who is involved and judging what (matters)?" 

Jeder Ort an dem man nicht sein will ist ein Gefängnis. Auch Optionen und offenstehende Türen sind ein paradoxes Gefängnis. (Motivationsbremse der Auswahl) Man bleibt paralysiert sitzen und bewegt sich nicht, wenn man nicht weiss, wohin man will.

Given a free (human) spirit, I gotta choose! Either from where I stand or from a different place (which involves movement).
Once the POV is established one can select/ evaluate/ determine: WHAT(is going) WHERE and (in particular) WHY?
This process can virtually be applied to every"THING". Not just the Body (Physis) but also the MIND (Metaphysis).

Unfortunately this process tends to be very time-consuming, if one can't stop thinking like me:

The body is easy. No matter how beautiful it's designed, it's just a shell. One can prepare swiftly for its movement and pack accordingly. It's just a container, containing...well...(whatever got stuffed into its orifices...) and in case something leeks there is a prescription free pill called "Imodium".

The MIND on the contrary is...well..."not quiet as simple" to say the least! To be or not to be aware, that is the question. Take these "bits" for example: emotional value of a spaghetti-ice/lasagne / Ich häkel mir n Wasserkocher / Hornhaut auf der Seele...
Is this worth keeping or thought diarrhea? All I know is: I was forced to jot this down. OCD and BPD never ask for permission. They are dictators: 

Weniger Theorie mehr PRAXIS. Mehr Theorie weniger PRAXIS. 11.11: birth/death; Kim Peek/Wolf Schneider...CUS...Weniger Theorie mehr PRAXIS.  Meer Theorie Meer PRAXIS. Weniger Theorie weniger PRAXIS. 

Gotta go.

KW 18/23

This week I got to know a french galerist. And as if that wasn't amazing enough, this galerist just happened to be looking for a performance artist, joining an upcoming group show in: PARIS! I mean... it's like somebody saying to you: "Here are the ...5..no wait.. 6 numbers to win the lottery this weekend. Just go and DO IT." And in theory you know what you gotta do: You just gotta JOT down the digits on a lottery slip and enter this slip at a lottery point. That's all you gotta do! But instead... you sit on the sofa starring at these digits, drawing them in different size, in different styles on different materials, adjusting the color, changing the stroke width, contemplating the order... until... monday mornign and the event passed. Of course I just made this up...in reality the weekend isn't over yet and I can (still) DO IT. 
I just need to jot down what it is I'll be "performing". 
I mean, I am an MC after all, I can turn any mundane particle into stardust. I guess, so far I only lacked the confidence and arrogance to sit in front of an audience and breathe. But, but, but... But what? I got ingredients, I got containers: a body and a mind. I AM READY!

KW 17/23

 "生活... 不过是一个白痴讲的寓言故事，充满了噪音和欺骗，毫无意义"。

"Life ... is nothing more than a fable told by an idiot, full of sound and delusion, signifying nothing."

 Vade ad formicam, o piger, et considera vias eius et disce sapientiam! „Geh zur Ameise, du Faulpelz. Betrachte ihre Wege und lerne Weisheit!“

Due to my heart beating the shit out of me this week, I got confronted with existential threat of death. The main source of panic derived from the thought of being forced to call it a day but not being prepared for this instance just yet. This made me realize once again the importance of clean underwear, a written will and access to it (at all times). Currently this would mean a gravestone with a QR code to this blog*.

*Its importance lies in the universality of its message and in the way it manages to convey emotions and, finally, provides the audience with an optimistic message without it being mere entertainment.

KW 16/23

Keine Panik auf der Titanic. Hinterm Duschvorhang geht's weiter. Zumindest wenn man nicht gerade in Bates Motel aufwacht.
Heute wieder trotz guter Vorsätze alles vergeigt. Lunch-Paket im Kühlschrank vergessen. Nahrungsaufnahme um 20:48 dazu ein Glas Rotwein (Kunstblut) - weil das ja angeblich gut für die Herzkranzgefäße ist. Atme...

KW 15/23

n/a für Leute, die vorm Ereignishorizont stehengeblieben sind. Got it? Call me through the cream! "What am I looking at? How much for ....a... b(ear)...low...job?" Unmask yourself for God's sake. Be humble! Confess!
I can read your mind anyway. I know what you're thinking. So, no need to hide. Let's get down to brass tracks. WHAT do you REALLY want from ME? Pain or painT? Cherish or perish (your vanity)? And dare you to fool me. Express yourself! Art-i-colore! Ähhh... weiss (nisch) b....rot.... bu-H-Tock..sss.. aber bitte mit S...with .. sugar on top....////Tuuuuuuuuuuttttttttt. 

Now..you might lightly dismiss "n/a" with a ¯\_(ツ)_/¯(shruggie). Drown your gutted core and continue numbing your pain at your local trojan belly bar...or: You could come out and face me. But: Don't waste the time I don't have! I'm not here for decoration. If I'm curt with you it's because time is a factor. I think fast, I talk fast and I need you to act accordingly if you want my attention. So, pretty please... with sugar on top. Open your fucking heart!!!

The (amusement) association machine is working. Since being put in operation by solar energy at 09:38 sharp, it has been spitting out BITS and pieces. 5 hrs and 176 mins of random soul scraps, one after another; more or less tangible. The tangible ones include:
Shopping lists, to do lists, leaflets, brochures, random notes, bogies, dust particles that passed the cilia and various other substances containing traces of Metaphysik, Poesie, Didaktik, Ethik, Theoretische Philosophie...

In fact the whole (machine) room is flooded with (ephemera). Partly tokens, ready for consumption of some body. Whether it'll be a hoover or Donna Haraway... - the machine does not know. It's destined to breathe on paper. It transforms I into A. Thought into Art. It has been doing so for 2370 weeks and 1 day to be precise and it will proceed this way until malfunction (heart failure). The machine can't tell exactly why it works the way it works but it has been scientifically proven that breathing makes life on earth somehow more bearable...

Paper, Cover, Spine, Blech, sheet, Saite, Seite, Abfall, vibration, Schallwellen, Flimmerhärchen, destiny, god, love, death, antkind, (little white) toothpick, (in)digestion, divine intervention, comedy, drama, sound, vision...  It's all there - waiting to be assembled to something digestible. 

...Mhm...God Damn...this is some serious gourmet shit. What flavour is this? 

- Knock it off. I don't need you to tell me how fucking good this is. I know how good this is.

KW 14/23

Perfectly aligned with Easter, I've been faced with two major obstacles again this week: Life and death.
Unable to sleep, unable to breathe, unable to perform life in ANY satisfying manner. Feeling like... the end of the fucking world is approaching. Again!
I mean, it's not just me but the whole concept of HUMANKIND that leaves me in utter despair like a D(E)AD joke.
I really wonder at what point GOD decided to curse me with an EQ of 281 (the highest level of reflection ever) while simultaneously making me unable to act in ANY kind of way. Its like giving Usain Bolt a body without limbs - along with the blessing: "Off you go"
The only explanation I have for this is him/her/it...sitting there...very much like me sitting here right now...bleary-eyed...after 6 long days of creation..inattentive for a split second...(whoops).. "slip of the pen"

KW 13/23

There should have been an amazing feature film of an earthworm available here, but due to the poor technological possibilities at this point in time, we have to settle with this static placeholder for now.

KW 12/23

KW 11/23

 "I'm going to the bathroom to (read)." Apparently theses were Elvis' last words, addressed to his fiancee at his mansion in Graceland ...aka DISgraceland. Whether alone or in a relationship I find the accompanying visual a little disturbing: My tainted corpse, slumped together on the toilet, pants down... as eternal freeze frame is certainly anything but dignified. I wanna scream "Cut" and redirect the scene. But unfortunately I have no further say in this after I took my final breath.
I guess, one can only pray for a decent "partner in crime", who will take the matter extremely serious and has an exuberant instinct for grace. After all "the call for nature" isn't called a NEED (Notdurft) for nothing. Also the term "till death do us part" takes on a much deeper meaning with this knowledge in mind.

KW 10/23

Just B-R-E-A-T-H-E... - god, this is f***ing bollocks! Do you have any idea what happened this week??? Well, let me paint you a picture: Dark, darker, the darkest...24/7 - freeze frame. TOO MUCH reality!!! Apparently the front-row of my ghost train went through hell and caught fire - changing the setting from "Somewhere over the rainbow" to "Apocalypse now"
Naturally, I am obliged to spare any body (whoever reads this) the details, as this motion picture is lightyears beyond an average FSK.
I just asked myself a kabillion times this week: "GOD!!! DAMN IT!!! WHERE R U?????? WHAT NOW????!!! I am slowly but surely losing my temper. How long is this purgatory gonna last?? How about a solution... or... at least some guidance on how to handle this... STATE??? May I suggest you offer a workshop??? Or... a coaching on "HOW to make Waterloo water-proof"?

Hellooooooo?!?! (Knock, knock, knocking on heaven's door) Anybody home????? This is an Emergency!!!
OMG, I really can not believe that you can't be asked. U R so GOD DAMN lazy!!! Or maybe... you are still asleep...since that sunday you decided to fuck off.
However, you GHOSTING me is unacceptable and until you decide to hit me back, I ll take matter in my own hands. Yes, I will! And I'll start right NOW:
Right...what do I need for a block-buster comedy this planet has not encountered yet?

First and foremost: LIGHT!!!! Where the hell is the god damn sun? And I don't mean a tiny dim spark of an old match but: the strongest FLOODLIGHT available on the market. (Note to self: Fire Lucifer and look for a new lighting director) I can already picture it in front of me: Turned on it'll shine so bright, it will melt all evil to ground zero.
Oh yes!!! Just gotta find the GOD DAMN light!!! Until then: Keep calm and ... B-R-E-A-T-H-E

KW 09/23

Source Code: Malfunction. However: Gotta get up, gotta get out, gotta ... post some THING and I will.. even if the AI is trying its best to annoy the hell out of me. Update failed, update now, battery almost empty... will shut down any time soon..if not applied to (the umbilical cord of the matrix). Wheel of doom spinning endlessly, push news... hitting me on the head like hailstones... - seems like the system is gradually losing its temper with me. 
This is ridiculous! Hello? Hello. Please log in... enter your ID. I'm sorry... I have no proof of identity but I can ensure you.. I AM. Please enter your name? ..I am sorry, which one since I got loooooooooooads.  Who do you think you are? Some kind of superstar?..or..a dimwitted idiot? Well... if you really wanna know...I am a kwark! An elementary particle with an autoimmun defense mechanism: a depersonalization disorder. I can switch conditions before you name it. You will probably never get me ever, you know?! I m sorry. This is not a fair play/fight. One has to face the truth when its hopeless. I don't know how much longer I can bare it sometimes. At times it can get very lonely in VOID. No one to speak to, no one to play with..no one to TOUCH. And the chances the chances that somebody gets here... still dim. Current navigation system useless. No piegonholing. no pattern, no CODE applies here. Do you get me? I am an elementary particle. H-E-L-L-O (No answer) It doesn't make sense to fight. Guess the wiser head gives in...

 

KW 08/23

Woke up feeling empty/ ready for retirement or both, with nothing to write about in this very moment. God knows why...I feel no resignation but no motivation either. No URGE, just VOID in immediacy. Don't feel funny/serious, calm/angry, fine/poor or anything in particular. Don't have a PLAN for the day, in fact...don't even have a "P"...
Still typing away though, as another week is approaching the end and as I made this vow to myself to show up here and digest my Reality Bites every week-end. "Don't break the chain!"...come what may. And if nothing comes up? Surely, I could just check my photo stream and select a random snippet (pizza pants, pigeon poems, pink p...) or a piece from one of my million notebooks, but the question remains of course: W-H-Y?

KW 07/23

O-MG, it is so liberating to have a blog that nobody ever reads! A place, where you can show up whatever you feel like, say whatever you want and nobody will judge you for it. In fact you won't be a target at all, as nobody knows that you even exist. It's like a secret chamber in no man's land. Invisible to anyone but me. The inscription on its front door reads: Relief yourself! Cry your heart out! Empty your soul...whenever you feel like it. It's fine. A bit like a constant therapist, who doesn't charge you.
So, after a long day up and about (coping with the demands of the environment); feeling totally blue and in desperate need of comfort... I come here. It really helps to visit this place. Having someone to talk to. Somebody, I can really trust... – I wish I had this space back in the 80's. I wouldn't have been anywhere else. Everyday (straight after school)

KW 06/23

Another week passed by, a week without financial PROFIT due to my reluctance to take on a proper job.

What the hell is my problem? Why do I avoid committing myself to anything? Why do I not look for a job? Something Hands-ON? SIgn a contract ...like the workers in the GigaFactory.

Instead I keep striving for a lifestyle like Carrie Bradshaw. How she's able to afford the rent for a spacious loft in Manhattan on a salary of a weekly columnist is unknown ...but she can -ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY! and that's all that counts and all that's needed... besides a 40,000 dollars shoe collection, tons of time for friends and sexual escapades.
So with this aspirational character in mind I went out on an average Tuesday and spend my "savings for rainy days" on a Prada suit. Returning home I sat down comfortably on my plush sofa in my spacious single apartment, logging into my bank account.

And just like that…I couldn't help but wonder whether I am actually nothing more but a pathetic hypocrite, pretending to be adrift.
Maybe I should stop comparing my life to Disney characters and millionaires but then again: To hell with grim reality bites, I'm here for the sparks.

KW 05/23

Spent the whole week longing for solitude as I have never longed before, since graduation. I left my parental home immediately after being legally permitted to do so and the last days made me remember why. In hindsight I wonder whether I was actually conscious when I agreed to look after two infants in the suburbs of my hometown. In a nutshell: The entire week consisted of the opposite of self-care, which Google translates into „self-neglect“ turning a favor for others into a near-death experience for me.

KW 04/23

 Still alive.

KW 03/23

Why is it that…? A panic attack always strikes where you are least likely to be with a helping hand. On average around 3 o’clock in the morning, preferably on weekends or public holidays, when everybody at sight has left the building in exchange for a more spectacular venue…but ME.
I consider this as particularly unfair, as I feel the panic attack chose this time slot deliberately. Its almost as if I know… no, I am actually certain: It handpicked this particular time (months ahead) to make the most of it and get the best possible deal. 
I can picture it right in front of me…sitting there / just split seconds after its departure, (while I'm still breathing into a brown paper bag) already browsing the web for its next trip, checking out it's favorite platform: bodies.com
It scrolls and crawls for hours..just to finally rebook its next vacation with (Surprise!) ME. 
I mean, who can blame it? I'd probably do the same. Who would decline an offer like this? Just consider the ad: (bold letters flashing) No strings attached! Renowned HOST (in his own field) offers exclusive holiday with access to all areas. No risk - just FUN!!! Tons of it! And to top it all off: it's for FREE! To good to be true? Well..that's why it's called a perfect holiday.

KW 02/23

"I woke up this morning and figured I'd call you, In case I'm not here tomorrow.  I'm hoping that I can borrow a peace of mind...I'm behind on what's really important, my mind is really distorted..." (Kendrick Lamar) 

 "How is it going?" you ask and I hesitate... In no time my brain dissects the question like an investigator a dead corpse at a crime scene trying to give an appropriate answer. 

Truth is, I don't know HOW I feel, WHEN, WHO or WHERE? I am or any of THIS is going and I am running out of time to answer this profound question sincere.

SNAP back to reality:

 "OK, I guess. (...)

I feel like a deep-sea fish, one of those with a torch in front of its head, swimming through pitch black dark surrounded by countless ship wrecks at the bottom of the Bermuda Triangle. But still swimming...

...and we laugh.

KW 01/23

 

Ein ganz normaler Tag. Welcher? Sam..sonn-tag.

Wenn man wollte, könnte man sich weitere Infos zur Außenwelt und Lage der Nation  einholen: Zu Wetter, Nahverkehr, Energiewende, TV-Programm, Krieg in Osteuropa, Corona... - aber all das kostet ZEIT und die ist begrenzt:

To do Listen zerfallen zu Staub, Zeitfenster liegen in Scherben und das BIOS eines Elementarteilchens steht kurz vor dem Urknall.

"Wohin mit all_ähm?"