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Random Articles
The kitten and the alcoholics, sex and drug addicts... He sings about the old familiar sting. Up till now I haven’t forgotten how it feels. Last night’s splinter in my leg was a perfect reminder and also walking past some bike shop even increased my emotional level. The incompetence of this city got me home too late. It’s bright now and I don’t even feel tired. I just have this constant need to wear my hood just to prevent myself from throwing biased and prejudiced utterances and accusations...
300 words I’m going to make this short, like real short, because why would you, after five years of following this blog, re-read the same shit over and over again? How many times did I say I was on the threshold of change and it all ended up the same? I don’t even want to know the answer. But honestly, am I improving my writing skills and building on my whimsical ideas? Have I ever even written anything worth taking note...
What you want is not meant for you... I saw him. He bought himself a cup of coffee and as usual he was gazing at his Blackberry as if dreading all the people around him. I used to do the same thing, pretend that I was busy writing a text message. Now you wonder why I didn’t walk up to him to say hello. I don’t really know. Well, I thought he was with someone, as he was talking to some woman, but in the end he...
3 short trips I have just decided to do at least 3 short trips this year before going on my long, long journey, which is still in process. It’s a little bit demoralising for me at the moment, waiting. You feel a lack of control when certain plans are not ready for implementation due to the future not looking transparent enough. And for a long time you feel numb and cold, except in your overly calorific dreams you sweat like a pig....
Dear me Dear Paula, how is it going with you? Have all your plans succeeded? Is everything alright? Sorry, way too many questions at once. I guess I am ok, many ups and downs as usual. Right, so I take that your love life is a total bummer then. You don’t seem to be that lucky when it comes to love, eh? Do you still blame the mirror that you broke years ago? Or the chain letter that you didn’t forward?...
Without a pen So I got the journal on me here at Sunterra, however, I’ve got no pen, which sucks. It’s better writing to you in your absence, which is why I came here. I also didn’t want to disturb your sleep. Never seen you so exhausted. Sipping at a very nice Chinese green tea and will do some shopping afterwards and get you something sweet to eat and a grande cup of latte. There’s nothing to question about my kindness; there...

Orbit

We have entered Mercury Retrograde again. I believe it’s a good time not to worry about anything and just let the stars mess with our heads and do fun things, good things and even bad things. If there is one thing one shouldn’t be doing during this period it is making big decisions or communicate something incomprehensible, because not one single person will understand you, and you will most likely be collecting the shreds of the biggest ideas of your life, feeling miserable. Perhaps it’s the best time to reflect, research, make notes and think ahead, but not execute anything, yet. It’s all about preparation and timing. With the amount of solar flare eruptions I am not surprised why we’re all currently in such a messed up state of mind. Back in the old days we seem to have had way more stability and order, because we didn’t have many options. Unlike now, we’re crushed with all the possible choices that we have, decisions that we are able to make, but cannot make. It’s a deadly paralysis of the mind. We also get bored more easily; our attention span is becoming more goldfish-like. Moreover, capitalism is making us forget our own personal values; it feels like everything that gives us comfort needs to be purchased. I like to use the term ‘art’ as something that combines creative elements such as art itself, literature, photography, poetry, music, etc. Being human is to express oneself and hoping that someone out there understands how you feel. But he or she most likely does not and it’s not necessarily a bad thing. We all perceive things differently. None of our experiences are ever the same or comparable. And yet, we inspire each other through words and actions, but we perceive an idea differently. I’m at a point in life where taking action has become crucial. I no longer want to wait for anything. I no longer want to shelve my dreams and wait for something to happen. As an absurdist it is deadly to stagnate, because the meaninglessness of life will always catch up and say, “What’s the point of it all?” Though, it’s not always easy to keep rebelling against absurdity. In the end you’re merely making up meaning to keep yourself going. Hope is the only thing that will always die last no matter how corny is sounds. I believe in the stars, as they reflect a hazy outline of who we really are. If the moon already has an influence on humans and earth, then what do you think all...

Er nennt die Pflanze Paula

My body’s currently unstable, my entire left side seems to be struggling since I stretched a ligament in my left wrist. But this injury is nothing compared to what others have. I can’t afford a physio, that’s for sure. I’ve used up all my insurance after merely two visits. I’m already irritated when told to rest for at least two weeks. What am I supposed to do? Focus on my novel I guess. Approach more presses, send out more emails, can’t afford to stop or give up. Though sometimes I forget I’m an existential absurdist, dreaming of a perfect date with Camus in heaven (or wherever he is). Too much dilemma going on right now – trying to solve them all – one by one. But I’ll need the left side of my body to function so I can do my push ups and planks – the only way to release the stress from work. Book work needs to move forward, too, so I can tell my family good things I’m going to do for them in future. My guru is standing by me. He’s the only Cancerian that I know who is tough and doesn’t take shit from anyone. I sometimes wonder how often he’s fallen on his face to become who he is. It will be a productive...

Three Libras

Rest both your feet on your desk. It’s a kind of day you would try to teach yourself how to move each single toe on its own. If you are a former piano player you would’ve practiced that with your fingers. Fingers are much more mobile since you have long phalanges and metacarpals. But toes have a slightly different composition and need more practice if you ever want to use them more. You have to pay attention to them and speak to them like Beatrix did in the movie. If you ever want to get to know yourself better you need to get to know your toes. Here’s a little story or observation: When totally still I have a massive gap between the big toe and the rest. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard about toe readings, but I was told it meant that I was an isolated person – a loner. Unfortunately they didn’t say I was a good actress. I still believe that I can teach myself, though. However, I pay attention to my toes and notice that the big toe likes to spend time alone, every now and then it works well in conjunction with the ball of my foot and it gives me stability. The second, middle and ring toe, on the other hand, are a trio that like to have fun; often they would stretch upward together and pretend they’re as big as the big toe, but the big toe doesn’t give a fuck. Their little sister, the pinkie toe, lacks confidence and usually keeps to herself whenever her siblings are trying to reach high. Sometimes she looks over to the big toe and wonders why they can’t be close since they’re so similar to each other. At least when the second, middle and ring toe are not moving they would involve their little sister in a cuddle and ask her how she’s doing. She needs that little love, as otherwise she’d feel useless. I don’t use her often, either, unless I’m doing some form of balance exercise. And now a little secret: The second toe has a thing for the big toe and would occasionally put her head on big toe’s shoulder. He doesn’t mind. I still feel like I need to teach each single one how to look after itself. I look after them by massaging them for a better circulation. The big toe likes it when I press just below the ball of my foot. It bends forward as though thanking me. And when pressing into the arch of my foot...

I don’t

Enough of beating around the bush and metaphors – I shall be plain and simple for this one.   I don’t care what people think anymore. I don’t care what people don’t understand. I don’t care what people really see. I don’t care if I’m a socially awkward introvert.   If it doesn’t feel right, it just doesn’t.   We’re all different and that’s all there is. I won’t take shit from anyone anymore. I won’t let anyone push me towards something that’s not right for me. I won’t chase anyone, unless I have a serious bone to with them. And I will no longer explain things more than twice.   I’m sick of feeling bad. I’m sick of feeling guilty. I’m sick of waiting. All for no good reason.   I will do what makes me feel good (without harming others). I will do what I think is right.   If you ask me who I am, all I can say is that I’m someone with anxieties that decided not to go on medication (, because I have my own ways of dealing with them). If you have a problem with that you have to go, otherwise I will.   When I say it’s enough, trust me, it is enough.   On the other hand I care about a lot of things. However, a majority of it is broken and it’s beyond my ability to fix it. If you know how it feels and if you can empathise – good. If you cannot, then don’t say a word. I’m not stupid, I would obviously focus on what I can fix.   It sucks to be a Cancer, because it takes more time to toughen up; we fall on our faces often, because we hold on for too long, or we set our hopes too high, while deeply inside we know it’s not right. My favourite Cancer is in his fifties – and he knows how people tick, but I...

Comfort in Chris’ voice

I don’t know about you, but usually I am only able to cope with one failure a day, not two. In the last few hours I’ve been looking for excuses to make myself feel better. It started off at work when I realised that I am not cut out for accounting, but at least I was able to figure out my errors, but the errors were 4-6 months old, so I can’t fix them on my own. But do I really want to do a course and invest my valuable time into it only to find out that I want to change job within a year’s time? Accounting is not my background, no, but it doesn’t have to be, I only needed a good eye for detail and focus and the errors wouldn’t have occurred. A little too late. This evening I took a climbing class to improve my technique only to find out tonight that my technique was non-existent. It was my first climb in over two weeks and I was unable to plan my routes, unable to crush the brick wall in my mind. Every move felt wrong, every position was uncomfortable. Two hours later I was in pieces.   I haven’t even been back for a week and all I’ve been doing is throw myself back into my old routine, thinking that it will be fine. I had no rest at home, neither mentally nor physically. I’ve wanted to cry for weeks, but can’t. And then my horoscope pointed out high stress levels and lack of sleep for today. The stars know. I’m just not paying attention. I last meditated two months ago, I think. I have no space in my head for anything – everything wants attention and all I want is to switch off or focus on my alter ego instead, and stories that can go on paper. How else am I supposed to remove inexplicable emotions or interpret unsettling dreams about being trapped in the mall? The lifts aren’t working so I have to climb up the walls. The doors won’t open – do I look for keys or use a hammer? I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep my hopes up like this. I feel like I am close to something, but at the same time I feel far away. It must be two different things that I feel. In a case like this wouldn’t you focus on what’s close and make the best out of it, make it come true? Not let anything come in between. Not let anything come...

Home

It feels like I am close to a panic attack or something. I’ve absorbed a lot of negative energy from someone who really needed to let it out. But there is nothing that you can do to facilitate their anguish, hate and resentment. Back in the past I used to hold grudges, too, mainly because they gave me something to write about, literally. It wasn’t until years later when I realised that holding on to pain is nothing but stupid and the writing turned out to be full of self-pity. But I’m past that age. I’ve made a lot of changes since then. I’ve been working on my own happiness and I can’t wait to return to Canada and continue with that, because it is not possible in Germany. Things are sad here no matter what you saw in my social media. I only happened to bookmark the happy moments. Who wants to see or read about the sad ones, right? In fact, I haven’t really had a day off to myself, so I am nowhere near rested and time has gone pretty fast. My book’s not ready to be published, either. I haven’t watched my series, not to mention the new Twin Peaks. I have no time. I don’t remember the last time my dermatitis was so bad. All this mixed with post-pill acne and general allergies. It’s getting better now, but my face was burning. My old habits of sleeping in till late & going to bed late kicked in as well. Home makes me deadly sluggish. And I can’t keep up with my workout, although my wrist feels better. There are a lot of things I want to go into details about, but I am not going to. This will have to wait until the first draft of my memoir. I currently feel like I’m unable to feel ‘hope’. There are people whose mental state is unchangeable. No matter how constructive and positive you’re trying to be – they shrug you off, because they are unable to believe. How deeply hurt and angry must they be?! It’s like trying to break down a brick wall with your bare hands. I’m also making a huge effort to meet as many friends as I can, because I care, but there is no way I can fit four coffees in a day and I am sorry. I also feel like I need to crawl into a hole for a while and recharge. Things will be finalised and executed in June. No excuses. I will tell you about the e-book,...

He was the highway

20:09 It feels like a long flight, although it isn’t. My legs are still numb. I mean I sit at work for about the same amount of time as well, but at least I get to walk around. Trouble sleeping, but I did nap for a couple of hours followed by two movies – neck’s sore now. Don’t know if I can go back to sleep. The teenager behind me is playing games on the monitor, which is also my headrest. Imagine someone tapping you awake for hours, except that you are awake, but they won’t stop. And the breath of the old man next to me smells of stale wine. On planes I’m always near babies, always. Just like at concerts I have 6″3 people in front of me. No further comments on that. My nausea has gone, though. But I’ve been eating too much bread. My wrist is still sore – never bend your wrist when you throw a hook. I need to meditate.   08:56 London – I feel like home again, although I haven’t lived here since 2013. Not much has changed to be honest; the train system’s all the same. I didn’t get my trifle in the end, because I forgot it has cream on top, if you buy it from the shop. I have no Lactaid and perhaps I shouldn’t have a trifle for breakfast, either. I’ve had too much bread in the last 12 hours, too. Hope I remember my way around. I never really hung in London Victoria. Gonna make my way to Barbican and then Waterloo. Craving yoga. And sleep. Hungry, too. I’m flattered that London is greeting me with sunshine, while Calgary marked my departure with bleakness and rain.   16:59 I’m on the Gatwick Express back to the airport. So that’s almost eight hours gone and I don’t remember when I last slept, not to mention what day it is. I managed to catch up with some friends, but unfortunately we didn’t have much time. No one could believe that it has almost been four years. And to be honest London hasn’t changed: Pret A Manger is still across the road from Costa at Barbican and Southbank still has all these fancy restaurants. They seem to have added more and more glass buildings, which just look ugly when juxtaposed against the one hundred year old architecture made of bricks. I’ve had two coffees, too many snacks, but constantly feeling hungry. Tiredness is kicking in for sure.   18:52 On easyJet, less than two hours before home. Can’t describe how...

Back cover

I don’t summarise things, because that’s when you lose the whole point of it. When you’ve written a book you shouldn’t be able reduce it to a short story not to mention a short summary. It’s horrible. All the authentic and down-to-earth sentiments would disintegrate into some tasteless and dull adjectives and adverbs that consist of no meaning, because you don’t see the whole picture. But as my friend Ed pointed out, some people check the back cover for smashed insects. I hope that people won’t do this with mine until they have read it. Then the back cover won’t matter, will it? It’s going to be a paperback, so unlike the hard backs there won’t be a separate sleeve inside the book on which your synopsis goes or whatever you want to call it. I believe the only thing that I can do is read back covers of at least fifty books and learn. I was never able to write the opening of anything. It takes Damon Albarn up to three hours to write a line, but it took Philip K. Dick a year to write thirty books. Some minds are like on-going typewriters and their only weakness is their short-term memory. Apparently I should end the text on the back cover with an intriguing question, but I am trying to think of something that’s non-stereotypical. So yes, it’s complicated; I can’t just go Dandy Warhol, grab Marilyn Monroe’s face and re-invent it. Postmodernism, these days, needs to be handled with more originality, which is not easy if you only have 150-200 words.   Anyway, I’ve come up with this:   >> Ellen Parker is a junior heart surgeon in New York. The city is her hideout; the hospital is her life, and the patients are her guinea pigs. With her PTSD in denial, she finds meaning in operating theaters and sex. And yet her existential dilemma continues to throw her off track. As her past unearths and becomes more transparent, she realizes that success alone isn’t going to fix anything.  The story touches upon female guilt, but examines femininity on a different level. Ellen is an absurdist, who decides to revolt and believe in something that drives her forward. But what if what she believes in isn’t the...