LOOKING FOR THE GARISH JAMBOREE

being sick is a good time to recover from the aerial barrage of impressions. i enjoyed it somehow.

MUCH THERE TO DO, APART NOTHING

chidren never evade. it's actually true, they suffer through everything.

the rogue is trying keep himself occupied. busy man. something's fucking gonna happen - now entertain him, please!

yeah, the kicks: i've found lots of places where you can breathe normally. where you can act nice to people. where you can enjoy being. where you can care about more than your personal entertainment.

and there are places where you get usually annoyed. where people brag about how amazing that very place is. how self-indulgent they are. how quickly they want to move on to see more.

well, it's not kent on that journey, but does moving around mean to stay at one reference point?

so sad that we prefer annoyance over boredom. we feel the most lively when we are pissed.

get bored, mate. get bored forever.

POSSESSED

if you observe what happens after a loss you might experience this:
1. you are shocked
2. it's not as bad as you thought it would be

unless - indeed - you are totally involved with thinking about what could have been different. be sure to remind you: you will do stuff like this for ages coming. no problem with that, pal.
it's a story of missed opportunities. some call it failure, some call it life.

come back to berlin, more lessons in limo service. but stop blaming people for good!

what are you looking for?

WHILE IT LASTS

welcome, i am willy wanker, your host on this tour. i'd like to introduce you to "the real world", not to be mixed up with the "imaginary world".

a strange community you don't want to belong to - but still, some habit makes you pretend some interest. once you slaughtered "jojo" for lunch, you wanted to breed more blisters.

amazingly, we mistake pain with liveliness, this is the outcome of our daily media overdose.

and finally, you will start stuff like saving the world by reading books and curing hiv by watching daily soaps.

i need more of these postcards.

LOW VOLUME

it's good to rant. capital letters prevented several wars, it's the world's most eloquent utterance.

funny thing is, you can actually decide whether to be pissed or not. in fact, they wanted to charge me 0.80 EUR for an urinal usage last week. a stinky one. so i decided to not piss myself.

that's basically what freedom of choice is all about.

think of the highwaymen, their families, criminals have necessities, too.
act for the invisible audience. exhibit your invented emotions. enjoy more singapore schlong.

STRAY DOGS

mate, sniffing on other people's things - what have we done to overcome our bestiality. they all have been beaten and abused and still they do care, just beating and abusing to show it.

i avoid the consequences, let's just pretend the best. and then we delude us in expectations, it's really spartan where we wanted to indulge.

following the light of the sun, we left the old world.

ONE THAT HATH SEEN NOTHING HATH KNOWN NOTHING

any attempt to predict your emotional reaction to future events is a pitiful failure. whatever you think that will happen, even what you think what is right now - you are wrong.
it's basically that we take imagination and call it perception - the results are too obvious.

the only solution is dissolution.

I, VOYAGER

so you wake up in this alien bed and you feel the crumbs and it's not your crumbs and you see the stains and it's not your stains and you would never ever have placed this wooden reel on that wall. pardon me, did i mind?

something to tell about, telling people who wouldn't even listen in the first place. gaining acceptance i could have lived without.

PR STUNT

yesterday, i thought about how some people are mixing up attributes.

compulsive, well amost obsessive as they are - those groupies.

you are now about to witness the strength of blog knowledge...

this one dares not to inquire within so the assumed outer world is observed. a world mistaken for something different than he is.

the moment he identifies with everything makes him bland:

neither promiscuous nor wealthy, i happen to reach the border.

"sir, do you have anything to declare?"

any declaration would overwhelm my honesty. i dive, i pirate, i daze, i care, i suffer.

"cosmopolitan self-deception!" someone is shouting in the line. i strongly agree, mate.

was i the one leaving? will i meet the one coming?
can he be the one i imagined? or will i be the one to be remembered?

so we'd better all join up in a club and have a sip of fizz, cristal or krug - you decide.

seeing is thinking.

...AND ACTION!

so he is leaving on that midnight train and it is my duty to comment whatever he does, whatever he loves.

see: he says he's a rogue. a rogue!

basically, we are just identical twins.

yes, it's the young and smart seeking, oh dear, yet another one lost from the productive spheres. like we'd care, do we?

once in a while, they meet up on the hill and throw a dime. then kill each other. now the rogue is on the run.

he didn't get involved. he couldn't relate. make that a world's first?