Holidays are about to get perfect.

Ok, I did so much stuff this week. I met a bunch of persons, had amazing conversations, so therefore I will present something like a best of, which should express a mix of summer vibes and represent the time I’m having.

I also decided to write more often: How come? Since there is enough to write about.

One of my favourite guys this week was the supercool guy on the end of the phonethingi. I called in Switzerland, a intern with a superfunny accent picked up the phone: “Indian Skateboards. Gruezi” which is only funny if you’re able to speak german. I imagine him perfectly relaxed. Doing his summerjob, making skateboard on his own, always with a fine spliff in his mouth and nice music coming out from boxes above his had. There are guys cutting the wood, some pressing it together others giving it the fancy high edged design. They are like christmas elves, with sharp ears, funny shoes, baggypants and emerica-shirts. Working in the little factory somewhere on a mountain top in Switzerland producing stuff to make people happy.

On Saturday I was on a party where I praised the longboard, told the story, I suppose I must have been annoying. But people smiled, and I almoust have a gang to ride towns and hills. There also I was bedraggled by people, so there will be the thoughtfull part of this weeks story:

What is it you call home? The people there are closer to you than everybody else, in the same moment the seem neglecting your personality and individuality and not at all understanding who you really are. But to great measures, it’s your own fault. You hide yourself behind the mask that you built when you were a child. Either you’re not willing or not able to take it off. If you think you’re great in what you’re doing (to cite Naruto who said: “This is happens to you when you’re skillfull: you get arrogant and lonely) just get home as fast as you can. Speak to the person who knew you when you were a babyboy who peed in his panties or a teenager with the crush on the superpretty girl, but busy to fight his acne and his doubts about himself, you just can’t be arrogant anymore. You’re then one who you were when you left. This might be cool, this might be horrible. But at least it tells you who you are.

Please imagine badass people, real stars, at home in a family people. It makes you first smile about them, and finally about yourself and your family. Have fun doing it.

“This is what happens to you if you’re skillfull: you get arrogant and lonely”

(But never ever at home: except you’ve never left it for a long time)

There is not a day to waste. Somewhat.

Finally the funny months started. The months when you’re project and all the rubbish that are loaded into your brain all over the year can be realized. Ok, ok. I know that I’m the one who keeps preaching: “Realize your ideas, do it. NOW!” But to be honest sometimes it’s superhard.

But not these months. I have moved away from Geetown. I live where I once lived. Between the foxes and lions (check the Macchiavelli quote), I read books and try to realize some ideas. As a promise, as a plan for these holidays some of them shall be announced here – I have three months time to realize them. From time to time I’m going to report on the progress.

1 ) Decide what to do in second term next year/after next year.

2 ) Get a longboard and become a fairly good rider

3 )Do this journalist tasks I found online:
http://www.10000words.net/2009/06/journalism-grads-30-things-you-should.html

4 ) Develop some OWN pictures.

5 ) Get outside as much as possible

6 ) Read: “The wealth of Nations”, “Dreams from my father” and, yeah, “Erec”

7 ) Get my stupid motorcycle driving license

8 ) Be/become an good intern.

9 ) Write and rock outstanding papers.

I think this is enough – any suggestions are welcome. And please visit me in the burrow. We can talk and ride our longboards.

Holidays are nice
Holidays are fun
Holidays are wonderful
If youre the one
Thats leaving on an airplane
Sitting on a train
or just wasting time
Watching the clouds take shape

And God I wish that I was running
Somewhere with you today

Everythings lovely
Yeah everythings fine
I’ve got more than I need most of the time
But still something seems missing
Like theres a crack inside
If we could just get away
And leave what divides us behind

AND ONE FOR THE BURROW:

Au! Der Magen knurrt wie Sau
Ich hau ab aus meinem Bau
verschließ die Tür,
ziehe durchs Revier
markier’ hier und da mal, dass ich da war
höre Gelaber,
schleiche gerade über die Promenade
bin Zeuge einer großen Maskerade
Große Buchstaben, grelle Farben, die mir sagen, dass sie Kabelfernsehen haben
Gestiken von Gerngesehenden, aber jeder Fuchs weiß,
dass ähnliche Garderobe heute leider nicht mehr Schutz heißt
Deshalb schnupper ich, was befindet sich da
drunter
immer auf der Hut wie Udo darunter!

Jede Nacht, jeden Tag auf der Jagd, denn das Rudel tollt, wenn der
Rubel rollt!

Eine Pfote am Mikro, eine auf den Tasten
ein Auge auf’s Geschäft, eines im Plattenkasten
Ein Ohr für’s Rudel, eins für den Gegner
ein Tanzbein und ein Arschtreter.
Ein Fuchs muss tun, was ein Fuchs tun muss, Luxus und Ruhm und
rulen bis zu Schluss.

Fools are determined by words

The last two days I was around with people I can’t really stand. Some of them. In an advertisment for the University of Iceland I once read: Talk sense or be silent. Well silence was a word that didn’t exist in the tiny universe of these guys.

So I became silent as an upcoming storm.

I spent the whole day together with these people. In a lunchbreak  – it was outside, raining in a mountaineous forest – I took my seat a little bit distant from the group. Not to look for isolation (o.k., maybe a tiny bit – I do this more and more recently, hm…) but for a dry spot and some calm moments. So I sat down in that little cave, very moisterous, from where I could watch the whole group.

And after a few moments of silence, since the cave was somehow isolated from any sound – magic cave, wow, i thought – everything changed. The faces of my disliked  companions turned into beauty. When minutes ago there was just the wish in me to scream all their hypocrisy and narrowness at them, now sympathy awaked. I saw smiling faces, bodies shaking in laughter, people sharing food in empathy and growing bonds. This made the day easy.

Well, me, I’m lying here, with nothing in my ears
Me, I’m lying here, with nothing in my ears
Me, I’m lying here, for what seems years
I’m just lying on my bed with nothing in my head

Thoughts about passion, love and commitment

First: I’m sorry. It’s really late, and I’ll not have the time to read through this again.  There will be many mistakes (as so often) I hope, my dear reader, this wont stop you understanding.

Recently my life starts to move upside down. The responsibility post was a first signe. There are more.

Number 1) In my head now: Love and attachment: This is a hard topic. Let’s  approach the question Yoda-style (O.K. – This is nerdy) the chain of arguments is as follows:

Love leads to attachment, attachment leads to fear, fear leads to anger, and anger leads to hate.

Does anyone agree? Disagree? I like the line. Right now, I keep on trying my old style: loving and not attaching. This is somehow not working. I don’t want to be jealous, fearfull or angry. How can you solve this? Almoust impossible. Next week more on this – the second thing is much better

Number 2) I thougt about passion. Passion is not loud.

It’s supersilent and in the beginning of an idea it’s nothing but the whisper, which, if spoken out to loudly flies aways- Passion is following your ideas and maybe values (what an horrible word). Following until the end, and sacrificing anything for them – even yourself. Everybody who believes passion is represented by salsa-dancing guys with white opened shirts or in a shouting and screaming fight with your boy/girlfriend, is – sorry to say – wrong.  Shouting and screaming can be an expression of passion, of course, but they are not passionate itself.  Passion is silence: a guy that is doing his job with intimate love for the detail, quietly but stubbornly. Passion is the guy who works to make his living and cuts sleeps to get to his hobby. The girl who follows her ideas even if her family and all her friends hate her for doing so.

Austria is not a passionate country – but not because people don’t scream or show there emotions.

Austria is not a passionate country,  because people don’t follow their ideas to the end. And before they even try, they fall in compassion for themselves.  Statistics say: “This wont work” was the most used phrase in this country from 1938 until today.  People see stones on the way  or cliffy passages as problems, never as chances.  They are afraid to loose the tiny nothing in their hands for a new experience.

For the lyric lovers: Lyrics about passion – to be honest – listening to the song is much better – and they don’t really fit the text.

In diesem Freibad, das sie Leben nennen
Lernt man als Bademeister praktisch jeden kennen
Bevorzugte Stile sind Brust oder Kraul
Doch auch dafür sind viele zu lustlos und faul
Machen die Boje, lassen sich treiben
Würden bis sie schrumplig sind im Nassen drin bleiben
Ich hol’ sie gern raus, doch kann das nicht entscheiden
Außerdem kommt noch dazu kann ich Wasser nicht leiden
Und sollt’ ich doch einmal ins Becken springen
Dann nur, um dich aus dem Schlamassel wegzubringen
Ich hab’ unterm rechten Arm ‘n Rettungsring
Und mit dem linken mach’ ich einen auf Schmetterling
Egal wie fett es klingt, es ist ‘ne starke Droge
Und davon loszukommen bleibt ‘ne harte Probe
Ich schwimm nicht mehr, check meine Garderobe
Da findest du alles, nur keine Badehose

Ja, ich schwimmte, schwamm und schwomm
Bin endlich angekommen
Hab endlich wieder Land gewonnen
Endlich Nichtschwimmer, schmeiß an den Song

Man könnte meinen ich hätt’s jetzt erst gerade entdeckt, tja
Doch Chlorwasser hat immer schon so fade geschmeckt, tja
Ich sitz auf meinem Turm, hab’ die Lage gecheckt, tja
Und fühl’ mich dabei wohl wie die Made im Speck, tja
Ich sag es direkt: Auch ich hing im Wasser rum
Es klingt unfassbar dumm doch bestimmt ist das der Grund
Dass mir die Sache heute stinkt wie ‘n nasser Hund
Ich bin endlich Nichtschwimmer, tschik-e-tsching derassabumm

Hesse is an idiot.

If there are weeks when things change, this was one. This days I reconsidered: arrogance is totally unnecessary. Persons who know me will shout:

“Zkar changing his mind, this is impossible – intruder! Get out of his body.” But friends and fellows, I did.

After a long and intense talk, I found out that arrogance is nothing but stupid. It makes you blind. Awareness, is ok, also straightforwardness and to show character. But arrogance turns yourself pride and blows your ego until nothing besides it matters. Which turns your life into a desaster. To others much more than to you.  I mixed things up in the past. There is a difference between doing stuff that is good for you and being egoistic. Those are recklessnes, arrogance and anti-anticipation.

It’s the idea of responsibility that made me change my thoughts. If you’re responsible for other people, arrogance and egoism will become your biggest enemies. By being a responsible person, you start from zero: doubting all your decisions, your actions and finally even your thoughts, since you start to get the greater image. I think responsibility makes life finally deeper – and to something to take serious, not remaining it that joke that is was before.

I can’t think of lyrics that express this emotions. But maybe I’m still to confused and do not understand things fully. I was lost, but dear friends, finally I’m on the way to the Northern Star again.

Next weeks maybe some thought about love and attachment.

About being an arrogant asshole.

I don’t know why girls and boys, but often relations in my life end this way:

I get called an arrogant asshole. This is probably true. But I never took it as an insult.

I take arrogance as a word for pride, and everybody i ever respected was proud. Proud of himself. “Me – we” was I suppose what Ali said, the arrogant dancing bee, the trembling man, one of those who changed things. Proud means, you respect yourself, you want to be with people you respect. I watched “American Gangster” the other day and got a deep understanding for this. Do so if you can’t follow my word.

Anyhow, by beeing proud, by considering yourself somebody individual and special, your time gets precious. You want to spend it with people you love. You live once and this with hope. So why spending it on watching TV, talking about what your neighbours did and why you didn’t move the lawn.  So do what you wanna do, but with passion, that was the message so far. And if you wanna get of a relation, don’t wait for the next week. Or if you are up to learn something, do it right now.

I don’t know why this is considered by arrogant. Maybe sometimes it’s reckless. This might be true. This is where love comes in – when what the “me” wants is less important than what the “we” wants. More about it next time, and here again some amazing Lauryn Hill lyrics I rediscovered with a friend – Lauryn if you read this: Make music again.

Now, now how come your talk turn cold
Gained the whole world for the price of your soul
Tryin’ to grab hold of what you can’t control
Now you’re all floss, what a sight to behold
Wisdom is better than silver and gold
I was hopeless now I’m on Hope road
Every man want to act like he’s exempt
When him need to get down on his knees and repent
Can’t slick talk on the day of judgement
Your movement’s similar to a serpent
Tried to play straight, how your whole style bent?
Consequence is no coincidence
Hypocrites always want to play innocent
Always want to take it to the full out extent
Always want to make it seem like good intent
Never want to face it when it’s time for punishment
I know that you don’t wanna hear my opinion
But there come many paths and you must choose one
And if you don’t change then the rain soon come
See you might win some but you just lost one

Aaaaaah I’m busy

But take this folks, gave me confused times:

There is no problem, because there is no solution.

Shigeko Kubota

There is no solution, because there is no problem

Marcel Duchamps

Paris Is Burning While Costumes Pass By

Oh, my dear blog,

what happened.  Even if Paris and my head are burning, there is no reason to cheat on you. Cheat with lousy films and badly made coffees. No men is left behing – so aren’t you my blog. The Northern star is still glooming, even if slightly desperate.

That should be enough as apalogy.

So here am I. 5 Thomas Pynchon and Mann books, 2 seasons “How I met your Mother”, 2 suited up nights and many many perfect days after., I’m sitting here with my head burning listening to a weird guy called Peter Kraus. You can only you this fevering. Today, story telling day. So we’ll speak about carneval.

This season I was everything a human beeing could ask for, a Pirate (very boring), a Camel Trader (very colourful), a Joker (desperatly desired) and a fettered medieval farmer (extremly men in tights).  I had amazing nights and got to know 4 different sides in me.

The Pirate was astonishingly similar to the peasant. We mainly grumbled and snarled, but in an extreme charming and sophisticated way.  As the Salesman, oh dude, how versatile and assiduous was I. I juggled drinks, dances and was the guy at the entry. I was everywhere and with everyone. Finally the joker: from many sides I-man have been told that this suites my charakter, I don’t know what they all think of me. But I give you this. When suited up, neither one or the other way, people watch you with somewhat scared eyes (maybe this was due to the scars and the make up in my face). But anyway a lovely position to live in.

So the carneval thing is somewhat weird. I have friends who call this fascist humour and in some ways it is. Then, if you don’t take the costume of the person you’re representing, but much more, the costume of a person who enjoys life. (My main references are some carnevals in Germany and in Southern Austria)

So to take it as a chance to be somebody grumpy, somebody assidous. But never take a dress to become somebody funny or to enjoy life.

Since then, you’re have nothing left to loose.

All of the boys and the girls here, in Paris.
Sing to the night without sight, but with madness.
I can’t keep up, I’m a wreck, but I want it.
Tell me the truth, is it love or just Paris?

My heart is yearning, but Paris is burning.
Paris is burning all night long.
My heart is dreaming, but Paris is screaming.
Paris is screaming all night long.

Kids in the street drinking wine, on the sidewalk.
Saving the plans that we made, ’till its night time.
Give me your glass, its your last, you’re too wasted.
Or get me one too, ’cause I’m due any tasting.

I’ve lost my way, its hard to find it through.
I see the night, but im lost outside of you.
I’ve lost my way, its hard to find it through.
I see the night, but im lost outside of you

Application for Future-Asylum.

Examination time. Boring time. During writing senseless reports, trying to remember facts about history or stabbing in your nose, there are these cozy intimate moments, that pop up when you wanna be somewhere else.

Today when I burned my head and wished microsoft excel was nothing but an awkward dream, I flew to the future.  What a sweet time I had there. Even if it was totally unlike Marty McFly’s “hoverboard” experience.  It was not utopic or desperate, it was real and touching. There wasn’t one future, I was outnumbered by future.  I saw about 10 Million ways in front of my feet, all I had to do was to take one step. And then a next one. Oh me, oh life.

But I couldn’t. I was standing there, in front of me all these amazing possibilies, all these ways I had prepared in my head and they were there,  just waiting for one singular person to walk on them, to take new direction and invent something never seen before. It wasn’t the lack of ways. It was to joice I couldn’t face. I didn’t wish for any more ways or ideas. I wished for 100000 feet, to walk them all. They are all worth going, all worth to be explored,  just I couldn’t.

Sometimes it would be nice to be a sponge. Just seperate and you’re fine.

Another future thing that came to my head this week was that we (or maybe just me) escape if the present is hard to face. But fugees are not really welcome. Who knows if you get a visa?

So maybe it’s better to stay,  just to go on holidays in tiny moments, but don’t let them become to time consuming, even if its one of the best things we can do in the cold cold night. Forging bright and warming plans.

this week: my grand-grandfather, forging plans for the 20th century.

Sleeping during daytime

Am I the only one to wish winter would be over.  Today I slept 14 hours and I’m still sleepy. Maybe I got attacked by a spanish fly. Or 25. The only thing I’m eager to do is forging plans or scheming in proper english. And watching movies. Today I met a guy who looks like a Legend of Bagger Vance golfer. We had a chat about politics and life.

He told me that golfing and listening to the opera are the only thing that attach sense into his life. Although he wasn’t cranky just calm. In Iceland people were told to talk sense or to be silent. Maybe it would be nice to call a coffeehouse that way, or even a shopping mall. I guess talking sence doesn’t mean not to talk about meaningless things. It just remembers to skip smalltalk as my friend the humbled whalehunter said. But most people can’t deal with that.  Sometimes it’s nice to repeat conversation that you’ve already had before. Like a well known tape or your favourite song. If you have them to often though they get lousy and disgusting. What shall we do? Sometimes I like to speak pathetic and sometimes rude. B’ut even that is not allowed. If you keep yourself to the rules of talking, social success is possible. If not, go home boy. What a sad thing. I guess if everybody would be obliged not to speak in his mother tongue, things would be easier. Or maybe not. If there is just one way of communicating, one way of expressing things, nuances and negative undertones can’t be made or even realised. On the other hand, you have to say goodbye to the beauty of language.  Oh no, were did I get again. I just wanted to announce that writing this blog in this moment will be my first step of reducing sleep. I solemnly promise.

All I need is a little time,
To get behind this sun and cast my weight,
All I need is a peace of this mind,
Then I can celebrate.

All in all there’s something to give,
All in all there’s something to do,
All in all there’s something to live,

All I need is a little sign,
To get behind this sun and cast this weight of mine,
All I need is the place to find,
And there I’ll celebrate.