Absurdistan Blog

Blood on CCTV

2007-10-28T07:22:00.005-07:00

These grisly ignorance, the fear that you, the blood
bibbernden lumps freeze. The brain gymnastics in all
directions, looking for tiny shreds least one reference point.
But where it also moves, it slips and slides back into the
zähklebrigen swamp complete helplessness. Nothing offers. The
house, from a side street. Gusseisern fenced. A freudloser
rhododendron bush in front of it. Cars park, passersby stroll
on the pavement. Anytime someone leaves the house. The view
remains unmoved. A door slams. Silence. Actually, completely
harmless. But who has the look ever thrown? And why send anyone
on the video tape preserved views, without regard to the final
races, and carries him into apparent children's drawings with
black contours and Blutgeschmier? Again and again the house
entrance. Thoughts turn in a circle, tumble in the boundless
space, finding no reason. One sees: Georges, as he breaks to
work, his son Pierrot in the Heimkunft. Otherwise nothing. But
why?

And then this Flüsteranrufe from somewhere. Without naming
them. Paranoia writhes the stomach every time, if Georges and
Anne Laurent rätselnd front of the giant screen of their
television amid their bücherüberpfropften cold living room,
fast forward, rewind, searching for the hidden clues. Georges
knows all the big, and considers himself a place for such.
Finally, he moderated the most successful literary Talk round
on television. But there is no dark spots, perhaps somewhere in
the past? And it could harm someone? Suddenly, not just the
doorstep passage. Georges birthplace, an unknown street, a
rooster with abgehacktem head. Oppressive reflection images.
The noose lies close to entangle themselves deeper and deeper
Georges and Anne, always panischer is the fear of persecution,
no one shall exercise physical violence, but the feeling to be
observed without knowing by whom, the next step suspect to be
paralyzed everything. And the videos draw districts.
Blutbeschmierte postcards landed in the school of Pierrot. And
again and again at family Laurent himself

Very slowly lurch long ignored reminder shreds back in Georges
selbstgefälliges memory. A durchtbarer suspected manifests
itself. He stumbles over his own narrow-mindedness and self
justice. Will trust and honesty, but he tries, even his closest
confidants to deceive, contains important to them prior to his
past will not make it. He suspected and convicted, even though
the evidence hardly tangible than soap bubbles. Fragmented
trust what Anne, as the only wise and sensitive acting family
mother, desperate. It runs with husband and son against
mistrust, bornierte and verhärmte emotional walls.

Caché, the new film by Michael Haneken
zerknabbert the nervous costume, is a genialisch-herber
boulders and even recently won the directing prize at the
Cannes Film Festival. It blurs the boundaries between filmed
reality, gefilmtem movie filmed in the reality and gefilmtem TV
filmed in the real world. An incredibly thrilling and
disturbing film about guilt and atonement, lies and
concealment, he turned. With a fine sense of nuanced character
traits and relationships with psychological acumen and unusual
means he stokes the fears of persecution, which is spread when
one realizes that followed and monitored - without knowing by
whom. He defines the wrong tracks, hidden, twisted, confused.
Spammers. Also, the audience will lied, it will be deprived of
important evidence, so he was in the same situation as the
movie characters. Nothing is clear, but we must somehow his
vision of the world so zusammenzuimmern. Very slowly lift the
veil, little really happened and it is almost like Jackson
Pollock, blood everywhere. Then something happens. But who is
at the end of guilt, who is the real perpetrator and the victim
who? And who has all really started? A grisly good film.

Not very crisp

2007-10-28T07:22:00.003-07:00

"Since you have the salad."

"I wanted but did not."

He curls the forehead to a confused Faltenknäuel.

"Salad is healthy. Nahrhaft, refreshing, fiber. "

Funkelndes toothpaste smile.

"Ballast. Since sagste was. Such salad, I wanted not. And do
not tell me that the salad here healthy. The tugs and ziept to
nerves. "

It grummelt.

"You are also demanding."

The tone is patziger.

"I had a funny idea got me pretty, red threads meditative,
verschmitzte punch set ..."

He sighs, stemmt the elbow on the table and the fists in the
aufgeplusterten baking.

"So rather cables?"

"Actually, no salad, but I like to be someone grad meat salad
verwursten would."

"Too salad verwursten without sausage?"

"Come to me not even stupid!"

A sonnenfinsterer view hisses at him.

"What's wrong?"

"As I said, I had a great text almost done. Wasweißich how
long I sat there. And shortly before the Road Chicken on the
"back" button, and everything came off. Since I have the salad,
all right. But that's for nobody well, robs me nervous and
vitamins, speeds up the heart rate, increased blood pressure. "

Schulterzucken.

Word schreiben und dann rüberkopieren." "I
say 'yet: Texts always write in Word and
then rüberkopieren."

"When you say that? So far, you did not have said. "

"Is nonetheless."

"And now help is still not on. Wise sayings bring me the text
does not. "

"But you still have it in your head?"

"Yes, but no time everything down twice-and especially not in
the mood, the horse again completely from scratch aufzuzäumen
where I can still almost completely fixed."

"Impatient and irascible?"

"It's looks then."

The view is mistaken half wistful, half angry through space
and fragmented on the woodchip wallpaper.

"Well, sometimes I have to go. Not there's dinner. "

"Strammen Max? So, with fried eggs of chickens unhappy,
because they will soon only be allowed outside after the
winter, where it will nix the pecking? "

"Snow chicken fried eggs?"

"For example."

"Nee. No Strammen Max, in any case? "

"But?"

"... Bread and butter bread ... ... salad."

Warning Levels!

2007-10-28T07:22:00.001-07:00

"Working on a good prose has three levels: a musical on which
they composed an architectural, on which they built a textile
finally upon which it is woven."

(Walter Benjamin)

2007-10-27T02:50:00.001-07:00

Standing two skyscrapers in the basement ironing and butter. If a strip Horn over and asks: "What is orange and goes a long way in the mountains?" The left skyscraper elevator and the wrinkles croaks "no idea." "A Wanderine." Say the right skyscraper "Had my irons not just evaporated, I would have typed, tomorrow about 'New Year's Eve. But I would have gone anyway. "

Eighteen? Jo. Twenty? Logger.

2007-10-27T02:49:00.007-07:00

"Bekackt, Walter! Bekackt! "

Baadls massaged his chin, ordered his cards on the hand.

"What should I do with the grits here? Since chases a scrap sheet next to me the whole evening. And since wag 'I still times, and then something. In each village a monster because I can soon yes' ne dogs Pension open. "

Fump! Jo floppt the Cap of the beer bottle, embarrassed grins and takes a sip strong.

"Oh come, Not kannste still zero."

"The best is still open, what? The sheet is leaking like rotten arbor in the allotment garden of my aunt. Bekackt! Bekackt! I mean, can the stochastic but did not. So much shit as I have tonight to get the hand, must but something good. "

Baadls grummelt encroaches into the Chips-Kumme and fills a handful in the throat. A few crumbs from the mouth stumble angles, and again entangled in Bartgestoppel.

"Bekackt!"

"Nu already come what Want to play? In the time it takes you to the announcement brachst are other people already with the wheel from Hamburg to Paris driven. "

"You me too. I hätt 'lift. Real. "

"Ab. Ab. "

"You have too much Werner watching."

"And you still did not say what you want to play."

Jo scharrt with their feet and turns on the frequency of the old suitcase radios.

"What do you know, that's how long will probably take until today I least one smart sheet wars?"

"Three hours?"

"Very funny. I mean, but even this may not be. This contradicts everything. The gauß'schen normal distribution. Nietzsche said: 'God is dead'. When I look at the angucke so, I say, not only because since a few hundred years, agrees: 'Gauss is dead'. "

2007-10-27T02:49:00.005-07:00

To be is to be (Socrates)
To be or not to be (Shakespeare)
To be is to do (Sartre)
Do be do be do (Sinatra)

The bitter end

2007-10-27T02:49:00.003-07:00

Gel still dripping wet from the glitter hair,
He mellowed as the camera itself.
Oh how shocked we were all suddenly,
, And saw how the dream crumbles to dust.

The giant pink, bent, broken,
The curved front chest swollen with pride punishment.
Thanks lawn after sensational hat's smelled,
But the hopes frozen to stone.

To jump Panther ready, it is flown,
His arm, his leg thwarted chance to chance.
Deeply elastic, he has bent,
And yet crumbled at the end of the Fassance.

A light ball, with sich'rer hand caught,
In sending Hecht leap but then entfleucht,
Zerdepperte the Heldentumsverlangen,
The gala evening shortly before closing contaminated.

Teddygebären

2007-10-27T02:49:00.001-07:00

"My parents always thought that verbildet television." Inka kringelt laughs and one of her golden curls to the left index finger. "In that respect, they have the old black and white TV discarded, and Dad has instead work weeks in a doll house carpentered, then on the Fernsehtisch was built. Even with lighted Puppenklo. " Outside, the sun shimmers through the crumpled WOlkendecke how fat stains in butter bread paper. Igor smiles as he tried to sail his ears still a bit forward to turn to better listen to her. His tinnitus fiept again today especially loud. He tilts Gedankeneingesunken coffee, as he looks out the window. The cup is running over, the freshly starched Baumwolltischdecke sucks with brown spots are full. He talks contrite.

Inka can not be swayed picks a cigarette out of the square box, lights it, considering blows genüsslich Kringeln in smoke at the ceiling. So, I have only last week for the first time the Simpsons. " "But your childhood is already at least 15 years ago." "Yes. But we have always played dolls. And I still see little away. " "Strange." "Why?" "Only in this way." "Ach so." "Yes." "My brothers and I have often played that we are pregnant." "Your brothers also?" "Yes, they were bauchhöhlenschwanger." Igor swallowed nearly a Kekskrümel, when he accidentally laughter in the trachea transported. "And dad was also pregnant. But Kreißsaal dad has smoked since he only has a teddy bear was born. " "And you?" "I smoke now. Although I should stop, but I like to smoke. " Inca pulls at her cigarette, closes his eyes, grins and says: "Maybe yes, I get somewhere in a teddy."

I met my Mich. (II)

2007-10-27T02:48:00.009-07:00

Pigeon eclipse the nocturnal streets was flowing, the moon hid his light behind thick clouds. Some snowflakes danced in the pale light showers of street lanterns. I almost slipped, but beherzter a grip on one of the lanterns saved my pants ground before contact with eismatschigem reason. Before I went, with strubbelschwarzen hair and cozy winter jacket, a young guy, probably as big as me. Since the oats pricked me, I went quicker step behind him, took him almost one and typed him on the left shoulder, a step quickly to the right to do so. He turned around. Sah anyone. His facial features derailed confused. I brought the index finger and said: "Haa-haa!" He grinned spitzbübisch me and said: "What are you only for a fox." The cold lamp license reflected in the entspiegelten scratches his glasses. And I saw that I was he. Then his arm suddenly went high and almost frightened! - He whispered: "Behind you! A dreiköpfiger monkey! " Now I turned schreckerstarrt back. Nothing. A lone Bäckerelieferwagen, lots of darkness, ice cold, lanterns. Then we grinned at each other and said almost simultaneously: "Verarschen I can be alone." Shortly later: "And together it's almost even better."

Denkwürdig

2007-10-27T02:48:00.007-07:00

"Why am Rhein's not already in the Middle Ages ferries have? They have yet even in ancient Egypt on the Nile alone. "

Au lit avec "au lait"?

2007-10-27T02:48:00.005-07:00

Someone puts it, or someday with someone or without someone for any reason in any bed. That is not necessarily amazed, and I am no different. And once since New Stem apparently keen interest aufkeimt, insights into the Schlafgemächer netzumtriebiger erhaschen writers to give me at least a photographic glimpse into the area where I mainly to nachtschlafender aufhalte time in which I durchlebe bizarre dreams in which I gedimmtem light reading great novels, in which I famoser with music beschallen leave. An enormously comfortable, the pleasures to be quite diverse and inviting opportunity. My höchstpersönliche cushion Burg, my bed.

Kramen subjects in the so-called, as they only rarely should

2007-10-27T02:48:00.003-07:00

The glove compartment was for a ausgeleierter, seated wrong word sweater that term for that is what it means, and everyone knows it. So I propose a fast regular exchange, finally finds itself behind the flap nothing that keeps the fingers warm. And everything that I think are souvenirs from the old, better times, while the shimmer of your tail lights in the direction of East dissolves, where you have a better life to believe. I was looking for some legal sweep, the rain rattled on the radiator cap when I came to pictures, which I have long tried to forget. And so, the idea drilled into my head that it's too important, as it had been. But I have absolutely no hint of an alleged debt of how our love slowly zerbröckelt. And here, where disappointment and regret at verkeilen, I lay awake on the night.

Available for: Death Cab For Cutie-Title and Registration

Tätäää, tätääää, tätääää

2007-10-27T02:48:00.001-07:00

Today is only slightly different than last year. Konfettikanone march, Alaaf-Rückholbändchen sits. Dr Dom let Mer in Munster. Helau.

The wild North West

2007-10-27T02:47:00.011-07:00

It will be dangerous in the giant meadow lengths my hometown especially when no hot tea with Kluntje and Rahmwulkje within reach. Instead of flashing guns and live ammunition, it is so far in the East Frisian Plains advisable to look at Mehrfachteefiltern arm.

Sound Wood

2007-10-27T02:47:00.009-07:00

From Switzerland will stockende flying objects thrown across the border. Michelle's has caught, I follow the invitation.

First A track .. From your earliest childhood.

As a four Zweieinhalbkäsehoch brought me through clever, even when watching the record player in the living room to operate. Besides Georges Moustaki, and the first two albums in the Dire Straits belonged primarily Hannes Wader to my discoveries. All too happy to primarily "Hannes Wader sings songs workers." And so as I moved through the tiny Steppke amuses East Frisian home village and sang "On to the fight, to fight, to fight, we are born" ... Before my parents took me to the chest and I kindly suggested, but perhaps now prefer a different song to sing. Since I did not understand what I sang and I Rosa Luxemburg for a maximum plüschpinkes neighbor stopped, I just felt that it seemed more appropriate songs for munteres walking through the neighborhood there.

Second A track .. You with your first great love assoziierst.

R.E.M. Night Swimming

Third A track .. The yourself to a holiday recalls.

"Exit music (for a film)" in the wonderful piano-jazz interpretation of Brad Mehldau Trio. In "fnac" in Bordeaux, these guided me throughout the France-1999 on vacation and still conjures images forgotten again.

Fourth A track .. Whatever you in the public do not want to admit so glad that you like him quite like it.

The trend, I think nothing of gustatory blinders. Permits, and what do you like lots. If, then perhaps "Blue (dabadidabadai)" by Eiffel 65, in the original while schröcklichst arranged, but in the version for piano selbstarrangierten suddenly almost irresistible.

Fifth A track .. The thee-plagued by lovelorn accompanied.

"How come your arms are not around me" from Kristofer Ĺstrřm & Hidden Truck. Has the black darkness rather verdüstert then, I was desperate longing but exactly.

Sixth A track .. You in your life probably heard most frequently spotted.

Difficult. Probably "Alice Childress" by Ben Folds Five debut.

Seventh A track .. The instrumental is your favorite.

The 2nd Sentence, the incredible Adagio from the 7th Symphony of Anton Bruckner (1883), which he on the death of Richard Wagner wrote. Unbelievably great music.

Eighth A track .. One of your favorite bands represented.

Achherrje, which is difficult. There are too many. But I suppose "Fog (again)" by Radiohead.

Ninth A track .. In which you yourself wiederfindest or where you are on a certain way feel understood.

Motor Psycho - Vortex surfer

10th A track .. The thee to a specific incident reminds (& what that is).

The very first kiss my first great love, I swapped its former parent before my disco to Trent Reznors words, "I want to fuck you like an animal" from Nine Inch Nails "Closer."

Eleventh A track .. At the best you can relax.

Again, the scenery was not appropriate. One of many possible answers is "Sicut cervus desiderat ad fontem" by Giovanni da Palestrina.

Twelfth A track .. For a really good time in your life.

Kettcar - dikes ... Almost exactly a year-then still very fresh and with rotweinverschüttetem Esprit.

Thirteenth A track .. The moment your favorite song.

One hardly answerable question chases the next. In short, almost spontaneously: "Last cruces jail" Two Gallants.

14th A track .. You devote your best friend would.

"Serpentine" by dEUS.

15th A track .. Where you have the feeling that it unless you like nobody listens.

"Too young" Blow Beat.

16th A track .. You mainly because its lyrics like.

A great many: The Weakerthans - Pamphleteer

17th A track .. Neither German nor English, and you very amusing.

"Mister Mayers Inst" By Kaizers Orchestra, "Ŕ étoile ton" of Noir Désir, "Glósloli" by Sigur Rós ... Hach, the Beschränlung to a single song mellows.

18th A track .. At the best you can abreagieren.

Tool-Stinkfist or Fall Of Troy-F.C.P.R.E.M.I.X.

19th A track .. At your funeral should be played.

The Nocturne in B flat minor by Chopin. Even if I have no wish to waste thoughts here.

20th A track .. You be the best of all time would expect.

From practicing guitarist zergniedelt, ausgelutscht and overstaying ... And yet, "Stairway to Heaven" by Led Zeppelin. And here would have a whole armada of other stroke of genius deserves to be mentioned, but ...

Weitergeworfen will not. Who likes's notes. But I would be interested in answering the following confessing music fanatics, for example, Burnster incredible, even if the floor to allergy suffers, Miss Fox, Ally, Nora, MC angle or Enno. Take it or leave it, anybody.

Wochenendliche wisdom

2007-10-27T02:47:00.007-07:00

"Football is a game that only by the presence of an opposing team is complicated." (Jean-Paul Sartre)

Zerschnittene loneliness

2007-10-27T02:47:00.005-07:00

Seidig shiny struppen whiskers under his crooked nose. One of them has been resolved, and has reeled down on the brittle lips on his tongue tip lost. He spits out moist air to get rid of it. He is the hairdresser. Not Crane, no movie character. He is the hairdresser. The men's hairdresser, to be exact, but since he is rather long only the seat. If you have a hairdresser, when we no longer upgraded? If you still can dress the hair, but no one hereinschneit, airs on the hat and greeting to the rotating Knautschlackleder-Drehschemel front of the mirror settled? Only the neck ausrasieren. Please not with the scissors. If the beard perhaps even a bit. Nothing. The whole day is the Barber on the middle of his three waiting chairs. The seater. His hands, a number of small scissors cut scars on his left hand, folded into one another. The eyes a little sad, her shoulders drooping. The hope in his view is old and tired. My shine is peeled off.

He sighs, lighting a cigarette. Almost slow the thick smoke hovers at his crooked nose gone to the room ceiling. In addition to the roaring of the trucks in front of his small shop is the quiet crackling embers of tobacco, each of his lung accompanied trains, the only noise around him. He feels alien in today. Everything is so different. The barber there is only on the opera stage, and the hairdresser can no longer call his shop if he does not want customers einbrocken wastage. And not only that, now you need fesche Barber with breathtaking zerzaustem hair Schopf, abgedrehte accessories, the latest products, art designer furnishings, hot music and a silvery Klotz, in the twinkling of milchschäumenden latte macchiato or feinherben aufbrüht cappuccino. With such tricks buzzing the business. Here only the drone trucks.

The hairdresser has something for no money. A glass of tap water, it could offer its customers. That would them from the next room pick. Even Gern. With a dunkelgelben smile. And the presence of women makes him ever so nervous. Almost helpless. His spit dries out, the neck is brittle, the hands are wet, the schlingern thoughts, and he does not know what he will say. That is his whole life. And so, no one likes fesche young hairdresser. He would also not even money to the employee. And so nobody comes. And because nobody comes, nobody dares to even look. Because an empty Barber Shop may not be the best. As can be thought of the hair cut elsewhere. Not for this Ewiggestrigen. For others get a coffee. With milk foam.

But long he can barely pay the rent Laden. Two reminders, the landlord already sent to him, because he was delinquent. And, although he received the landlord the rent for forty years, not increased, and recently even lowered. But it is not a customer. Maybe one day. The old customers are nearly all dead or moved away. So the hairdresser often sits alone for hours on the middle chair. About him the old cutting crouch on the wall. All still work. Everything collected themselves. With love and devotion draped on the wooden board that he screwed into the wall and gedübelt. So is its plant in the corner is often the only one who he is a glass of tap water can offer. Sensually he called it "Lulu." They listen to him, if no one else comes, and that is often. You know his concerns and desires. Especially when it gets dark in winter, and nothing is heard except the Verkehrsgebrüll outside and the crackle of his fervor.

Previously, it was different here. Since waberte heavy cigar smoke through the tiny shop. Men from all age groups jostling on the chairs, refused to narrow stone pillar next to the door. Since rang his old fund. His heißgeliebte fund. Meanwhile valuable. Even with real crank. If today is no longer something built. True solid, holds several lives.

His shop was the message Shift situation all over the place in the quarter. They scuffled herein felt in heavy coat, and since they were already all. Mr. Johannpötter, Mr Paschulke, Mr. Rottenberg, Mr Mark Stein, Mr. Tollkötter or Mr. Jelinek. That was a mess. This policy was made. Someone brought a beer with, and remained even after the haircut hours, because it was such fun, in the busy bustle, the heated discussions about politics, football, or lawn mowing finger in the pie. Because life took place here.
The Barber Shop was the small, close and cozy afternoon master table. There was one at home. But those who were here at home, are no longer at home. Tot or fort. And the connection of the time missed.

The Barber never had a feel for trends, almost a little afraid of them. A timid faith in the bright, hectic modernity. He is the only hairdresser. He cuts hair. And plauscht likes a little. With his voice, always rough, tobacco and deep as too long sleep. Gimmicks for Others, like he says. White today because no more manual work to appreciate? Even today, no. Nobody. From morning until 9:00 at night to 6:30. And that, even though he himself a new Easter decoration created. Dyed eggs, a little green gift from the gardener, a few light yellow ribbons to grinding curved. Everything flows over. Now he closes the door again at the heart of all the whole day as well. Perhaps yes tomorrow again a customer. What a joy for the hairdresser. He would even him spend two glasses of water. And even a free shave on top. Just because he is so happy. But still, it is not tomorrow. Tomorrow maybe.

2007-10-27T02:47:00.003-07:00

Is that a slate Skifahrgebirge Mountains?

Thinking Marathon

2007-10-27T02:47:00.001-07:00

Too much thinking too highly, too much nachzeitige simultaneity of various complementarities, too much makes WIssenschaft between headaches.

About turnaround

2007-10-27T02:46:00.007-07:00

How often had Heinz-Dieter on the roundabouts sworn. An impatient and jähzorniger Schnurrbartträger as he quickly lost the focus. Again and again he kurvte in roads, which he never wanted to travel because he did not understand the signs. Was it perhaps was that Heinz-Dieter barely could read.

Or he does not bog from the rotors and accidentally rammed trucks, cows or helicopter crashed because of a rotary vertigo flushed and confused. "Hach," sighed Heinz-Dieter now before luck when he and his rostroten Scirocco in this traffic circle in the district Emmendingen imports. "Roundabouts, in which only goes straight to lob 'ich mir". He thought and accidentally drove into a red road barrier while trying to abzubiegen.

Oh Hairbei their word games, Part II

2007-10-27T02:46:00.005-07:00

Between Prusten and despair arrives quickly, when it comes to word games. Not infrequently borderline. Often already one step over the precipice, and strained wortwitzig shows just the industry's Hair Stylist frequently. A small inventory, it was some time ago once. Here are some new additions, beyond any. We read and bestaune:

Giant Cuts
- Schlemmer Cuts
Super-cutting
- Drumhairum
- Hairvorragend
- "We behairrschen our craft"

Vergissihnnicht

2007-10-27T02:46:00.003-07:00

Only rarely the watchful eye catches a glimpse. All too rarely does he ever in the wild espy how he Hügelschrägen along tappert and sometimes the wrong side hinunterpurzelt slope. Especially since he is if, then almost exclusively in remote valleys of British Columbia look. And so many of its existence until now remained hidden. And even for those who in any way with his cute appearance came in contact, he is almost forgotten-the bevel slope rodents.

Those who seek to invent

2007-10-27T02:46:00.001-07:00

I never Readiness. I can not even knitting. This is what distinguishes me from some other people. And a few of them apparently wondering how many stitches because they just zurechtgestrickt. This family knows the inventor Council Because she has a knit stitch counters invented. But that's not enough. With zeal düsengetriebenem invent anything, what you never dreamed of and that you never have dared to ask. Anti-ant-picnic blankets with double-sided tape, "Bumelade" so that we no longer annoying Zweischrittigkeit until butter and then jam on the bread must foam, with the pictures we paint on the grass, a Klositz with vibrating massage, so that ' the faster and more convenient fliutscht or Schwimmbrillen with compressed air cartridge glasses complaints against papers, a sound for pain perception, a Fischdosenspritzschutz, scissors, the paper collects ... Very surprising.

He found and discovered by the Nuf

2007-10-27T02:45:00.009-07:00

"Gray is all theory, and ash are their supporter."

(Gerhard Kocher)

Rarely needed knowledge with which one can shine at parties ...

2007-10-27T02:45:00.007-07:00

Who his head for half an hour against the wall suggests, it consumes about 150 calories.

Flügellahm

2007-10-27T02:45:00.005-07:00

Completely were Elsbeth and their flatterhaften Mithühner not sure whether it was the bottom of the facts on which they had just landed. That would still be considered. Unfortunately, however, losses can be reported.

In Schluckt-ein-Specht-ohne-mein-Beisein

2007-10-27T02:45:00.003-07:00

Whoever comes too late, is not very early turn. Until quite recently, I have come to hear that the reibeisenstimmige Wuschelbart- schluckspecht Harry Rowohlt tomorrow in Muenster reads. What exactly he reads, he tells no one. For 16 € a very rewarding but costly affair. The prize is me, but do not scrape-it is already sold out. And so, I will (inevitably) at home simply my great Flann O'Brien-Buch rausholen (have), and one or two glasses of stout drink on the zottelige rafters, a few kilometers from the hall inspires me. My wallet is the only one who was there, I thanked the absence. Nevertheless.

Head Stand

2007-10-27T02:45:00.001-07:00

Sometimes the world is upside down. Sometimes it's also just a pink box with unknown contents.

Tomato Future

2007-10-27T02:44:00.009-07:00

Perhaps heavy metals can also be humorous. In the lead-casting can be funny, at least in Gegossenes interpret it. If nothing better to do, or rather on metal want, you can also remains schmadderige tomatoes on a cutting board as a challenge seherische used.

Fifty years to eat your chicken

2007-10-27T02:44:00.007-07:00

A half-century was the bird tinned since moved Les Lailey zuleibe around the plate. The mid-fifties, he got it done. From his tender bride Beryl, as part of a Präsentkorbs. A canned chicken in jelly. What a delicacy. As his eyeball herded Les since the magnificent gift, it is like a hidden treasure. Before furtive glances dawned hidden the rifle plate decades previously. And now, fifty years later, to the golden wedding of the two doses was the chicken on the table, which was tastefully Canned turned on. "It tasted wonderful, most a little too salty," said Les. But he says as Sole; His wife, with whom he is still happily, was overwhelmed by caution and dared the roast. Fifty-year-old meat had her stomach skeptical suspect, even if not the hint of danger of bird flu there. So she left her faithful husband gelled the spring animal. The made her happy, beat all the concerns about a decades expired shelf date in the wind-without the slightest Magengrummeln afterwards.

Oh, tell, oh!

2007-10-27T02:44:00.005-07:00

Kitzelig kullert a Schnötteträne. Among upper lip nose, is being slowed by bereitgehaltenen paper handkerchief. Reißfest. The nose shimmers in dunkelrosé. Cold clanks crystals. Fege Sauseschwitzend I use my ass wire through the shallow street canyons. Even a curve. As it is, the City Theater. Ruins remains blurred reinforced concrete, glass. Lange, I was no longer in it. But tonight. The short Cordjackett zurechtzupfen. The glass doors to welcome me turn around. The scent of Guiseppes mustache whirs through the foyer, I come Otello. Tingle durchsprudelt me. For the first time in a long time I give again an opera.

The sky is full of Blechspeichengewimmel and old lamp shades in the room, the three ranks are lined with Flechtbastplatten. The faded Schick of the seventies. The light goes off, the curtain will be raised. In the dark hall are green Notausgangleuchten position as lamps of a space ship. On stage squats eckigwindschiefer a huge box of steel pipes, the distance to a theater festival recalls. The box is sturmumbraustes ship and rulers palace, ambush, catacomb, garden, rooms behind closed doors at the same time. The eye feels at the sight not flattered, but with time develops the backdrop of their charm. With thunder, and spätromantischem Rumtata schmetternden choirs fetzt the overture to the ears. Then dip the intrigante Sausack Jago, the chronically jealous wood Bock Othello and his charming, unschuldig-schuldige heart Dame Desdemona. Hinterlistig trickles Jago Othello intriganten Mumpitz into his brain, it requires mental horns. According feels this is gehörnt, swings on the Heckmeckmeister. His brain synapses and spit stew before kränkbarer and seemingly betrogener love embers. The Schwelbrand in brain and heart is a large-scale fire, burning everything and burn through because Desdemona who allegedly blown differently.

With wild schwungvollem force and pathos, delicate and lyrical Melos encapsulation umbraust the music from Verdi's opera version of "Otello" our ears. And even if many visitors to the strange Sets for zerrümpfte noses ensures that the voices of dazzling brilliance, the intonation of the sound security body, and especially the diversity of the orchestral nuances timbres astound. One such successful musical opera performances were in my ears no longer in Munster.

2007-10-27T02:44:00.003-07:00

After the Sinnflut us.

The laptop misery

2007-10-27T02:44:00.001-07:00

Barely more than 03,000 residents live in brummelgemütliche Ihrhove, a small village off the main road from empty after Papenburg Castle. Ostfriesische diaspora. Two-brick houses dawn pushed each other along the small streets. There is a bank, a church, a soccer club, even years ago in the third league played a decrepit station, a blocked Raiffeisen warehouse, the "limit" - a small but very fine indie-disco, Charlys fish shack and a new shopping center at the Ihrener road.

And where exactly would the beam of my anger flammenlodernde a fire ignite, if he only could. For in a small corner between Aldi, and Gammelpizzeria Combi-market squeezes in a little ibid computer store. Tumbe hordes sparwilliger laptop finder racing there, the shack, because the two operators brand laptops used by companies to buy and resell favorable terms. Since I too for the dissertation on the stalk for a possible favorable laptop (as a Christmas gift), I first looked at a shop for used laptops in Munster, I recommended several similar business, but then heard from just one in Ihrhove, 12 km from my home village.

As I said surprised, therefore, also the owner of the store, with whom I shared, albeit two years under him, the primary school attended. Enormst friendly and caring he beat me a friendship price for a IBM-Thinkpad, which indeed was not wrong.

"And weißte what? We are looking for you even among all models, which we reinkriegen, a really great model. You will see. Klasseteil! " Freudig surprised me, I spoke briefly with my father; Then we said. This coming weekend, the computer and then got ready to be picked. Vorfreudig So, I went on the following weekend, again with the Trödelzug of Munster after empty, and from there by car to Ihrhove. Twenty people squeezes into the tiny shop, but not for me predefined device. The trouble, but now good.

My father brought the unit a few days later, my mother found that I gift-da-even at Christmas only to handle themselves so that the special gift of the respected remain. Okay, happy. Then came the Christmas Eve. Among other lovely gifts I grabbed the laptop, joined him and I was happy to set up, pushed the start button. Once he went high, then: Schwock! Blue Screen errors. Crash. Padautz!

The next time is not different. The device angry out of the window to throw my mood would be complied with, but probably my 12-month warranty claims expire. Nix went. And we remind us: "We are looking for you even among all models, which we reinkriegen, a really great model. You will see. Klasseteil! " So, I called on 27 December promptly, described the shortcomings of achso great part, and I was asked to pass it quickly. Made.

"Ah, oh, yes, broken. I look,'s whether I can repair. Call Now afterwards. "
"I need's but quickly, I am starting from tomorrow no longer here and now also need to work."
"Sure, no thing."

He said no. I will, however, slightly annoyed, in the late afternoon. Device broken, fix anything, it must be exchanged, but no straight replacement unit there, all sold. Wars in three days until new ones. In my brodelte it stronger, the eyebrows moved to a pfeilscharfen Winkel.Nun well, in God's name. Even my parents were both owners by telephone again to their disappointment and anger participate. And they even cleared a deadline until 3 In January, for the Neubeschaffung and refurbishing of the equipment. "Super, nice! Of course, by then we will have everything ready. You no longer need to call in advance. "

At the time my father went so again the 25km out and back then, and? Nothing. No device there. "X grad is on the road and gets what. Tomorrow. " The next day I called in the morning, now back from a distance and again in Leer, around my birthday to celebrate. "Yes, device is there, kannste pick up." After lunch I went to the first station, to a very important guest pick and then jump on to the shop. Once again. It was 16h. In an hour at home had a very good, old friend, whom I had not seen the dawn of time, announced.

Like almost to be expected squeezes itself again about 20 customers like daunenbejackte Ölsardinen shop in the "box". About friendly welcome. Oh, and congratulations on the birthday! Twenty minutes of waiting. Then finally. "Yes, ähmnääh, your device ... so where is it ... ähhh ..." He jumped into the rear of chaos populated area. Mr. Hustle outward and oaks of devices. The outwardly exceeding fifteen technicians received individual parts sufficed. Smart! Smart! My unit has now assembled, and soon flüchtigst. He was allowed German keyboard stickers draufpappen, setup. > My neck artery was thicker than Ottfried Fischer and puckerte like a drum roll; My lips were thinner than a scalpel cut.

I wrested the wrong snake shop owner the laptop. Quickly up in the car, okay. Later I noticed the machine was a little faster, but had only half as much RAM as agreed. Well, this can live with. DVDs played fine, as agreed. Since the laptop does obediently peacefully and his service. But I was only a little vorerste week. One of my best friends, I wanted to burn a sampler, this time with the laptop. And? Sure! It is a Nur-Lesen-Laufwerk in it, no burner, as was denied. Even Urschreitherapeuten had frightened before the sound pressure waves, which in my room almost legten.Und rubble? For almost two weeks now, I try to shop by phone to reach. With suppressed number. Does your, it's someone to answer the phone? No. Either is busy or no one takes off. Allegedly, the phone now muted, as the calls the sales talks hinder. I think it is more than a pity and quite annoying. A good business and a good business, there are two pairs of shoes, gentlemen. Already disappointing.

Stock without lock and two smoking barrels

2007-10-27T02:43:00.009-07:00

From time to time, the ghost questionnaire waves through the network and countless heads are beulengezeichnet because they made unannounced little sticks were thrown. Such met me now with delicate balancing out of the hands of Mrs. Frank and Dudu. A little, it is like painting by numbers or by filling out personality tests in relevant journals. Nevertheless: During the breakfast, I krümelnderweise up, the questions to be answered ...

Four jobs, which I had previously:

* Stockwirbler behind the drum skins, the world mean.
* Illustrator a "learn counting" book
* Plaka color in the glass counter in a store inventory
* Caliph instead of the caliph (just for example)

Four films, which I also look after zigfachem still love:

* Pappa ante portas (Loriot)
* Store Clerks - The guardian (Kevin Smith)
* Big Lebowski (Coen-Brüder)
* Night on earth (Jim Jarmusch)

Four recently read novels, which I have fallen:

* Toni Morrison-Jazz
* Jon McGregor-After the Rain
* Gustave Flaubert - Bouvard and Pécuchet
* Magnus Mills-To King

Four places where I have lived:

* In Leer, a small town ostfriesischen
Born in Muenster, the metropolis of Münsterland
Born in Barcelona, the much metropolischeren capital of Catalonia
Born in Mainz, the incredibly pink homeland public broadcasters

Four television, which I like in front of the screen fläze:

* Harald Schmidt (ARD)
* Simpsons (Pro 7)
* DENKmal (3sat)
* Dittsche

Four places where I was on holiday rumgetrieben:

* Dublin
* Rome
* Minsk
* Gunzenhausen

Four of my favorite dishes:

* Champignoncrčmesuppe
* Lasagne
* Cheese tortellini with cream sauce
* Pannacotta with fresh strawberries

Four Internet sites to which I often verirre:

DENKmal
Disk tests online
ULB
Not Funny

Four places where at the moment at least, I would like to be like this:

* Grog with a Monkey on Iceland
* In the night life in Barcelona Ravals
* With Gaukeley Gundel in a gondola at the Venetian lagoon
* In bed

A whole bunch of writers, the questionnaire already bent. As the chain letter etiquette apparently requires four more now to fill invite, I knock care with no single case, Pe, Rulla and grandfather. Otherwise might take, who likes.

2007-10-27T02:43:00.007-07:00

The proximity of the end item is near an end.

Insights into the National Sports ostfriesischen

2007-10-27T02:43:00.005-07:00

Glitzernd drips from the erythematous tip of the nose. The temperature is not more than a zero-sum game, while we spend hours by the cold of the East Frisian Low-level shuffle. Fourteen are we. Twice seven. On narrow streets between small cattle pastures, Wall hedges and tiny farms through. Against Bibbern there is the anticipation of green cabbage. And mulled wine. Against cold finger is gloves.

What do we do? We throw small, heavy balls from Russia to America. Why we do this? We compete in Bosseln, the East Frisian national sport, a sport that so many on the other frozen nose rümpft and in Karachi, Buenos Aires or Los Angeles would be difficult to imagine. Why? It takes for what is not there: small, like a little winding, paved roads and flat with no movement possible. In Ostfriesland find something more frequently if you know, in Karachi, Buenos Aires and Los Angeles barely estimated.

And what do you now, if you have found a road? They meet in groups at approximately 10 to 20 people and one or two Bollerwagen with coffee, tea, biscuits and often and also likes Kruiden, mulled wine, or other clear Kehlenbefeuerern (the truly ambitious athletic Boßler renounce selbstverfreilich on the spirits share). Then, too boßelnde track down, usually about two to three kilometers, once again, and back to cope. Because Bosseln can you imagine how long-distance goal without bowling ball or wide cones without cones.

Now the ball is with Schmackes thrown along the road, in the hope that with every throw greatest possible distance to go. Because the goal is to make the track with as few throws go best with less litter than the opposing team. Special items ( "Schött" or "Schööt"), there is, if a team throws so far that not even the opponents with two litters the same distance.

And so you can stroll along the balls thrown behind, incidentally chats with friend and "enemy", the fires on the roadway sausenden balls or fishes with strange equipment, small Eisenkörben on broomstick (right), the balls from the matschigen Schloot (ditch ), if they too swear by the line abandoned.

After two or three hours refreshing walks through the cold winter, the shivering then an end. As a rule stapft man then in the warm room, where one of the hotly awaited gourmet food in the form of green cabbage or the National Court ostfriesischen "Snirtje" hermachen. Not infrequently, some of the groups at the end of their street Boßeltouren, ball, team and dish twice, with the aim of increasing snake lines closer, the more air with the time in the liquor bottles court has found. That may now but everyone decide for themselves. The true athletes remain more in the East Frisian thermos flask. And the best of the best (there are whole league with competitions) occur every two years, even at the European Championships, has the game but also to Ireland, Holland and England lost.

Moi-męme

2007-10-27T02:43:00.003-07:00

Now and stones can also soften. Strange unrelated, but almost simultaneously trudelten several requests to the mail compartment. "Ole, you remain so strangely faceless behind the absurd mask. How does the man behind the confusing world? " Why now and cumulative? You know, perhaps others. I have never been a big sense is seen me here to immortalize visually. But heartfelt pleas do I dislike a "P". In this respect, there is quiet after the recent infants also had the rare opportunity times, a contemporary photographic impression state. I lüfte my (yet so few remaining) optical anonymity. The photo, incidentally, is only two days after this fiasco. Voila, c'est moi.

Who has not yet, but still wants to whom the idea strudel new gewitze incursions into the brain coils, and has sputtered ever, or who continue until just lust has until Monday morning, the doors opened at the title contest. Yet, the opportunity there.

The snow and I

2007-10-27T02:43:00.001-07:00

The snow and I
What we have in common.
Both we would be happy today
So much more is left.
But we both had no choice.
For him it was the thaw, I
It was time pressure and the schrillende alarm.

Hit it like Hazelwood

2007-10-27T02:42:00.011-07:00

Outside clangs the night. Ice cold bites as with the Vampirzähnchen just lying skin. The breath breath clouds above the lips. Inside knuspert one by ofenfrische pizza, yaps, laughs, pulls genüsslich at the dump, bevels the beer bottle and lays his head in the neck for the rest of Schlücke beer from the bottle to sip. Fun and relaxed Gewusel. You know it, yes, so students Parties. The Arctic Monkeys dance from the pits. Since Jays phone rings.

"Hey man, Hazelwood here. Age, geht'n what else? Bisse Where? Let draufmachen a ma! "
"I am in grad ner private party."
"Yes super age, horny as pearls or what?"
"Jo."
"Geil, I am there."
"Wait 'times before I ask briefly."
"Boah, how are you there? I come over. Sachmal where. "
"No, wait 'times."
"Sach and I come clearly?"

And as Jay submit it away and still asks. And clearly, the Hazelwood come. Only you have to know, Jay has forgotten the host to tell what this one is, of Hazelwood. But Jay was also good wine. As ever dreamed of the memory in deep feather beds, it's about something. And then he goes off, the Hazelwood collected. Because he has already been well tanked. Is it always bad to houses and roads, which otherwise always a shit. It was never there, or had never been there, and what should we be huge pile of stuff to remember that you never again need eh?

And then suddenly both are back in the hallway, and the Hazelwood with partners like Grützwurst nose and eyes like goulash soup. His shoulders bulligen überschlabbert a football jersey of the English national team, his cowboy step is in hamburgerbrötchenfarbenen Baggypants at half-mast. And ne hairdo between Tingeltangel-Bob Atze and Schroeder. And there he stood still, the Hazelwood, and except for the Jay knows he does not. Rumms! Because he is first in the empty living room on the couch. And nen ordentlischen first sip sugar cane liquor. Pop And that must be noticed that the most ne birthday party. The hosts also for the rest of the bottle gift, because he should be happy if he ever gets what.

And yet not so sharp devices on the party as promised. And funny music. So stuff that the whole ticks and wannabe rocker hear it. But the Hazelwood has his Gabba-CDs forgotten. After a buffet. And so he breaks the first half of focaccia bread and grabs with the regular Pranken nen Batzen tomato butter from the bowl. And sweeps the entire plate of peppers. What, was the second pizza plate thought? Who are you and what do you want from me? Go shit, age!

And then back into the living room and the first video shelf checked. Couple this very hot streaks. And first Train Spotting removed and the recorder and pushed the door, because otherwise is too loud, the whole Gesabbel of people. And, I tell you, the Hazelwood and Jay have ne first half-hour video watching. There is the host, which then has occurred and then asked if they do not feel well, and so on, and that Videogucken ner Party already rather unusual. Well, the Hazelwood is not Unmensch. The television is not alone.

Is it then just to the Host room gone. Amélie-Japanese posters on the wall, what a girl Bude. And then just as turned on the tube. In the first boxing match. Hot Shit. And the others have embarrassed and dreingeschaut first nix said. And found the Hazelwood then but enormous behämmert and then gradually went into the kitchen. The Hazelwood has also found the DVD and first since so much thrown into the player. What matters is for cowards. Was too stupid to's on. Now go watch boxing. But then the first reading easy chair from the corner and plucked clean, the middle of the room. I tell you, as a bold, he dagelegen Pasha. Wide legs, feet aufm desk chair, and then only "boah cool" and "hau him the Omme broken, you Drecksau!" Hollered. Just as at home. And the hosts took the whole ungefragte behavior pretty shit. His Faust has repeatedly shrugged, I tell Dir But he is so well-educated. But it was getting a little tense, because I tell you, when Hazelwood you never know whether the non - when nobody was looking at-what is inserted, the other would later miss.

And then still Magenknurren at Hazelwood. So the rest away from the buffet. And even with the tongue licked off the cake platter. When the head of tomato soup like to also put in the pot, but then so were olle philistine in the way. So back then. And weitergeguckt. Tomato butter with the fingers in the trousers just mopped. Scheißegal. Sah then a little like the blood of children's corpses, which Geschmiere. And without hot pearls, and only with such comic Uni-Heinis is also boring. So I made the rest of the sugar cane liquor and collard purely so in the throat. And beside Jay ashamed because this is actually a very dear. And he has also noticed how the bescheuert Hazelwood now found all. "Ey, I will ne Olle, age! Let ma geh'n into the Black Sheep! Or somewhere where we can still make it clear beads! " And so taumelten of Hazelwood and Jay eventually go. Because of Hazelwood would still ne pearl. He came but only up to the bus for home. And since it has the Jay reingesetzt then. The rest of the ceremony took place in turn, not so wrong that the Hazelwood rather go somewhere else. So really liked him, they had not.

(Still up: Joining the title contest)

2007-10-27T02:42:00.009-07:00

Everything happens in the present.

Her with the title!

2007-10-27T02:42:00.007-07:00

Brain coils on, very sharp thinking and win! Because I have a problem. My dissertation is about to start, and although I rarely am embarrassed by the words, and the issue is clearly defined, I am still missing the title, the whole thing sparkles and crisp to the point. I have intensively with the issue, but the exact and precise clip, the subject of investigation and almost precisely formulated in a few words, I will not really succeed. Zig tests, but as yet almost every passing geschrammt; No one has made me really happy. For the application I need now but the final title.

In this respect, I am writing here a spontaneous competition. I schildere you what I planned, and you go in you and tried to find crisp to the point. The best title wins a prize! (Undoubtedly very seriously!) As profit beckons the winner of a selected me himself novel , then a short time later in the winner Mailbox land. Minderwertiger Murks like Poertgen-Herder is not verscheuert. The jury for the award is made up of myself as a superb cast.

What's also going to be? It will go to a comparison of synchronous communication modes, ie different ways in real time to communicate with each other. Specifically, I plan to compare Face-to-Face-Kommunikation (ie, the direct encounters with other eye to eye), telephone and chat with respect to the information-sharing in the work mode and with a special view of perception and emotion. What can I do to what mode me a picture of the comparison to make, even by his emotional mood situations? Based on what charms and instructions from my picture emerges communications partner, as is taking the identity of education?

"Communication and emotion in real time. A comparative analysis of synchronous communication modes in view of the possibilities of the perception of emotion expression and identity design "- a little bumpy, a little long for me so far failed.

In principle, yes Face-to-Face-Kommunikation are all sensory perceptions are available. I get the content of the conversation, I can comparison incidentally also see posture and gesture lane, I can tune the language exercise, see how the opposite dresses, it may affect etc. .. And just gestures / facial expressions (nonverbal) and the voice melody (paraverbal) are so important transmitter of emotion expressions. What happens if I use the comparison and his gestures / facial expression can no longer see when suddenly both communications partner spatially separated in different environments and contexts participate on the same conversation, perhaps not even ever seen? How is compensated him that I (as in the chat) not even hear, and the whole thing rather to a sort of "to the language spoken angelehntem written drama without dramatic concept", "never comes to performance?

The Tour left the legal route is excluded, a presentation of the prize to myself will not take place.

Video killed the radio star?

2007-10-27T02:42:00.005-07:00

Schringschringschringzirpschringzirp
Nüdelwüdel Paik is dead
Schringschringschringzirpschringzirp
Gniedldidl Paik is dead
Schringschringschringzirpschringzirp
Nüdelwüdel Paik is dead
Schringschringschringzirpschringzirp
Gniedldidl Paik is dead

Tröt-tröt-tröt-trööööt. Humpahumpa. Ruarg. Ruarg.

Yes is the mournful melody
That echoes in their head
Without a beat they march along
Believing Paik is dead

(With allusion to the Residents)

News from the series of "things I have never done before":

2007-10-27T02:42:00.003-07:00

With elephants previous einparken sideways.

My Life in the Knife Trade

2007-10-27T02:42:00.001-07:00

How many dozen times, I have noticed that our views are little more? From your chair, I can judge the exuberent disgust over my mere existence felt. Klär me as to when exactly you such a tremendous part of my life are sure all your lies scratch me, the only aimed at me to plunge into chasms. Pustekuchen! Once again! Werd 'me again of a reaction depends!

Oh, I am bitterly to the walls of sheer ice remember, the emporschossen from nowhere. And I can assure each of the lies, which you ever dreamed you and persuaded you. You blutest me out until I am withered and dried; And I ask not why I stay behind with the dust. Judas kiss, I announce, thanks for all the fish and all the things I am now! I am unverurteilt. Hey, wait kindly! I am still not through with the screaming!

I tell you what, and defend, that you are thinking of nothing better. Verscheuer 'for my life' nen gold bullion. Search you fix someone else before I will be too old. When I refer to the price of beauty live, you will see me with all your shame pay! I erspähe every glimmer of light in your brain coils each time anew when I vorbeigehe only for noise and whispers. My pleasure in my suffering itches me no more. I am beyond your stopwatch lost in the real-time of life is the real life! Remained standing! I am still not through with you!

Do you not trouble you to collect. I was in grad me from the room to verkrümeln, when the door of your judgment zurückschwang. Perhaps halt 'I just inne to attend your show, before then I will go my route. Too many of these childish games hab 'I need to watch. For every minute of every day, which I have agreed, durchwurmt biting me shame. The worst enemies are all too often verflossene friends.

Frei by: Boysetsfire-My life in the knife trade

Bon anniversaire!

2007-10-27T02:41:00.007-07:00

Cultural tourists, more than ever before with Mörike than travel to Prague reading flow. Perhaps you will hear the closing ceremonies of the World Cup even the Lacrimosa from the Requiem? Perhaps, the World Cup because of the Mozart year completely, as in the time Rattelschneck mutmaßte?

The anniversary marketing machine buzzes as mistaken. According to Einstein now Wolferl. Commemorative have (even in that case) absolute rights, but especially high economic activity. The hype of the giants makes me almost dizzy, almost driven to flee. Listen again next year to hear Mozart.

But one of the greatest composers of music history, despite my distaste for his zähneknirschenden commercial cannibalization deserves to be given a musicology student at the 250th Birthday congratulations. Congratulations, John Chrysostom Wolfgang Gottlieb.

The third bread knife without bread knife

2007-10-27T02:41:00.005-07:00

The third part saga, in which obscure memories open new levels. The reader is hurled into foreign worlds. Future actions cast their shadow hidden, new tracks creep in, but still remain ambiguous and await their discovery.

"Too much silence makes mellow," Gregor thought, "Time for music."

He raffte and scuffled on the CD player. His gaze durchschlängelte the overpopulated wood shelf with the recordings. In short, his index finger to the lips sprüden, mused. Then he plucked a plate and sent it out into the abyss of Abspielers. He slumped back into the chair. The quietschten feathers. With the elbow he stripped his coffee cup. Almost had his cappuccino from the rest swept. Only a few drops schwappten.

"The spots I can wegschrubben tomorrow."

A carillon strummed slightly slanted against slow schepperndes drums, psychedelic guitars and long strings. Novo Kain for the soul. The eerie, huge girls' eyes, the diseased eye, the beautiful freak. The first panel of the Eels. And suddenly it clattered into his head. The music drove their knöchrigen long finger, won the Dietrich from the pocket and opened doors to hidden brain. There was a cinema in the head unannounced performance with old recordings long forgotten geglaubter experiences showed (on Super-8?) And only a little blurry. Gradually sharpened the image, the colors were clear. The film listened to the alarmingly barren working title "Gregor Eels-CD buys."

He peered himself on the shoulder. Gregor as Neunzehnjähriger, October 11 prior years in Minsk. With a blurred denim jacket in the weathered market hall from zerbröselndem washed between Dynamo Stadium, the Museum of the Great Patriotic War and the place of victory on which the eternal flame burned. About whom there who had triumphed, Gregor was eliminated. Also, for whom the flame burning. Probably the Patriotic War had something to do had. Completely absurd it appeared at least not the idea.

The market hall was a giant of weathered concrete block, whose roof bröseliges far lebensmüde curved and arched. Among quirlte melancholic liveliness. Schäbbig bekittelte farmers were overflowing into diesel, angerosteten Blecheimern out to knallblauen their tractors to refuel. Canisters were perhaps too expensive or simply not their beer. Fuel splashed over the edge, seeped into the porous gravel soil. Suddenly krabbelten even memories of the equally fascinating how excited disgust smell there from the treasure chest of memories back to consciousness. The smell of fuel mixed in the haze of freshly baked bread, pickled cabbage inserted, urine, Halva, red Bete, mothballs and abgehangener blood sausage.

Here in the market hall, there was almost everything life necessities. Anything to cook, bake and fry made jackets as trousers, hammers, circular saws, night vision devices. But some things perhaps in the urgency list of survival less far above. The most prominent example of this category was for a short Gregor meterhohes plastic cross of Jesus' crucifixion been in the dozens of small, colorful LEDs embedded. At the push of a button blinked this hectic, and this squawked from a small loudspeaker at the foot of the cross a melody, Gregory of a CD with Russian Orthodox liturgical chants to know believed that he once years ago at a flea market very favorable refuse. Besides the obscure Cross had on the trestle still aufziehbare tin soldiers of the Red Army stood, which also LEDs blinked. From the eyes. Almost uncanny.
Again and again had zahnarm friendly and smiling, wrinkled men in kälteanfälligen Lumpenkleidern "Drushba!" - Friendship! - And called on Fraternity Offers to drink vodka with home-tries, the boys for their hochprozentiges potato distillate enthusiasm.

In some corners of the harsh market hall could be tons of tin in which smouldered below charcoal, the so-called "Rattenbäuche" buy. In dough eingeschlagenes minced meat, whose name and sight Gregor but the appetite away. A few meters further seller sipped beer from a Einweckglas. He even had the ring alarm drangelassen and art prints sold in appallingly poor quality, mainly painters of the twentieth-century Magritte, Dali, Kandinsky, Miró. The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction. The technical reproductive possibilities seemed in this case further. For a moment there was still tilted Gregor been a pressure of concentric circles to buy Kandinsky. But the paper stank sour, the colors were very pale, the print itself is very streaky. Furthermore: The travel bag was on the Hinweg almost torn apart, where there should be a poster reinstopfen knickte without it? Gregor had not bought it.

From a relatively windstillen corner in the hall crowed music by the lively confused murmurous, feilschende feilbietende and goings: The Folklore Trio "Kressiwa", German: Feuerstein, played in traditional costumes gewandet, raging wild Polkas, dances and painfully slow mourning songs about erlittenes suffering. In each held two break Balalaika-Spieler, and the singer is selbstbeschriftete vodka bottles at the neck, causing the sharp brandy in alarmingly large Schlücken runtergluckern the throat. Some arteries were in their faces burst. The two dancers, in addition to the group included, were not getting a sip, perhaps out of consideration for their leg coordination.

Somewhere there was totally unexpected Gregor of the CD Eels found on a small patchwork quilt, Plain, intermediate or greasy bacon rinds and bloody, gehäuteten sheep's heads, Marie-Orthodox icons and old military uniforms of the Soviet era, it was a more than amazing Fund. Not U2, not Michael Jackson, not the Scorpions-the Eels in a heap of Soviet Schlager-CDs. Ironically, the Eels. And suddenly appeared to him as a much better investment over the shabby Kandinsky printing. The only western CD, which he otherwise there would still can buy would be "One, two, the police" by Modo. A nowadays not unduly nearly forgotten piece of music. Frank, the bassist of his former band, the joke had once remarked: "If I want to leave the Cheer and I want to kill me, I will stylish lay in the bathtub, brüllend aloud, one, two, police 'by Modo hear and then with a toaster thrown into the water. "So far, Frank still lived. Thank God.

Continued ...
Part 1
Part 2

It was once ...

2007-10-27T02:41:00.003-07:00

In very young age was in a forest and verschmitzten Wiesenschrat middle of Ostfriesland a fondness for strange headgear is not always deny.

The quiet spell over the summer near the north beach

2007-10-27T02:41:00.001-07:00

Cozy is the sun rays through their warm dust in the air to the Helmholtzplatz slide. We enter a typical house at the Prenzlauer Berg. The entrance door to the barren whitewashed house floor is smeared with graffiti, whose salary probably even the sprayers themselves now forgotten. Come clean and the same right as resident Kathrin and her lovable Teenie-Sohn Max now and she likes to paint. The houses, which she paints, as seen from the houses that they paint Well, almost. Then you can then compare how different it must have if the houses at some times different. Perhaps we could also sell it, but so far no one is interested in that. As long as they reject being on zuckerkulörfarbenen coal furnace. Even if Kathrin use the money well.

The little paradise high above the street

Because Max longs finally jogging shoes with built-in air conditioning, shock suspension and other gimmicks to have that in his friends and especially his sport, secret love ones. But work has Kathrin currently none. And with nearly forty, no! Neununddreißigeinhalb, it is trained for a show advertising designer not so easy for a new job. Especially when one is shy. They müht, visited Assessment Center courses, the success hides, but continued somewhere in the bushes of the neighborhood, the hood wearers secretly pee, if none is looking. Currently, it has enough for now. But it really works very little. Panties are still scattered across, could be bought again, except Schoko-Flakes, milk, wine and vodka is almost nothing in the house. Wine and vodka hike until late in the night with the top attic. There has Kathrin's best friend Nike pastellgestrichenes their empire and a small concrete balcony on which the whole aptly mild summer night talk, laugh, drink and dream. From wonderful professions, the right faustgenau dream man, a bit more easily in everyday life. With blood geweiteten beschwingt-benebeltem cars and awareness can also talk to the ex telephone pranks or pharmacist to concoct.

The whirl through life

With too much liquor in the blood stream and hoarse laugh strumpelt Kathrin often only in the morning back into their verschluderte Butze. Often with such great Gerumpel that Max distracted from their sleep scares. The next day, the empty bottles as thick as the head. Träge peels, Kathrin until around midday from the sheets, while the kecke Nike shrill in their provocative clothes and knatschengen have their daily morning tour starts at her job, dependent old people to look after. Because in the mind of the schrumpelfaltigen Kauzes Oskar reigns again rollercoaster. Just his dead wife to visit, the coffee jar is on your own in the hearth scrabbled and the loo flushes itself miraculously still not by itself greise Mr. Neumann lies motionless with his verhutzelten Alm-Öhi-Bart in bed and surprise: it has yet to school. And the mischievous Helene frets kuhblöden again with her daughter around, her daily accordion playing, and above all, the beloved penny Charm lectures ban. Shortly afterwards, Kathrin almost on the streets of a carpet-truck übergebügelt, with the horrors of them, but suddenly takes the lives of all those involved surprising turns ...

It seems like it is

An intriguing fragile Idyll characterized Andreas Dresen with fine line in his film "Summer in front balcony." Fully unflattering and loving eye for detail, he has his characters and accompanies them with a view to their warmherzigem trips through life-at Straucheln and failure, in the delicate moments of happiness and in the hours just before the abyss, with their sehnsuchtsvollen Schwelgen, in the small sensations and disasters, while airy upgrades and harsh dreamier bursting bubbles. Alcoholism and death, love and life, sex and frustration, child and pub. The kodderschnäuzigen and often verschmitzten dialogues are wonderfully refreshing and nowhere.

The center of things

On miraculously creates Dresen, Sponaneität to stage and the exact tightrope walk between ungestelltem, heart zerknirschender refreshing wit and melancholy. Nowhere kitschy, nowhere flat. Here are jam-Aldi and Lidl-Cola for breakfast, with the loving devotion to the low-cost dishes served, the underwear still hangs over warped chair. Everything seems coherent in its fragility, which is the life-nothing. It is as if you have a clear view in a strange life. As would be the third man in the league, the middle sternüberfunkelter summer nights behind the struppigen flowers with Nike and Kathrin albert on the balcony, was sitting with them in the evening beer at the bar of the pub around the corner, in the middle of the loud and quiet, funny and sad moments. Bolstered by the film is totally unpretentious and genuine game of the actors who kauzigen and complex characters to life, sensitive and mischievous merge with their roles. Added to the atmospheric images, the camera has captured man.

The city in the city and their film

A bit is "Summer In Berlin" for the Prenzlauer Berg, what "Amélie" was Montmartre: A dense atmospheric love letter to a district with his people and his flair. But is "Summer In Berlin" less playful and magically, clings to the fractures and difficulties in life and city, and not just refer to his peculiar, confining, delicate poetry. For me, "Summer In Berlin" almost a small miracle cinema and perhaps the finest German films of recent years.

The new look

2007-10-27T02:40:00.007-07:00

A small but clearly visible change is in Absurd Istan confiscated. Thanks to the great help of Kathleen, I could be creative, have the weekend pencils and brushes curved and must now present a new header. A little less simple, but somewhat absurd. I hope that the loading times are not hours.

The Wa (h) ren interns

2007-10-27T02:40:00.005-07:00

Gedauert had it. But after years of static tests, eternal Afterthought at neuralgic points and problems with the material consistency has now recently unveiled to the serial, virtual shopping cart is presented, also in the (internships) as a candidate and laid goods can be transported easily.

Screenshot of www.praktika.de

The bread knife goes on

2007-10-27T02:40:00.003-07:00

The second part saga

Two weeks ago, the. Maybe even three. Since then, Jörg swear in a boiling sea of physical passion Submerged-for the rest of the world disappeared. Also for Gregor. Janine just 20, had an apprenticeship as Floristin canceled and jobs now at the front desk in a strip club schummrigen location on the bottom of the harbor, not far from the Hamburg Mountain. According to Jörg, it germinated in the hope that there will soon also to be able to dance and maybe even Star Revue up. Intellectually rich water they could hardly Jörg, who has his economics studies in a financial consultant for publishing textbooks for Accounting lektorierte.

Memories of the joint bars evening, in which he made the news Jörg had krabbelten from memory, while Gregor briefly from the ears chair rose to a powder cappuccino aufzugießen.

"Intellectuals ... papperlapingpong eye level, I sach you! Too much intellectual eye level to provide time for short-sightedness! You should think less and act more, my dear! Too much spirit paralyzes! If the intellect completely tail and look at the vice pressed, he misplaces dsie view on the essentials. If I try to mind-level stimulate wants hab 'ich but my friends, "Joerg outlined its position. "Not much light up. But front 02,000 volts und'n damp slot, which is the main thing. Man, that's true ne grenades bride! World class, as long as they are not your mouth to speak out toward. Thanks God it does only rarely. " He had impish zugezwinkert Gregor, kumpelhaft him on the shoulder and knocked a metal laughter from the throat clatter. "Only fun!" Then he had two Absacker still be ordered. Gregor had mitgelacht. A little artificial. Then he said only: "Sometimes you are really full Horst, weißte that? But yes, women seem to stand out. " Jörg had energetically pulled at his cigarette. "What you leave a can, old man!" In his new plate-pool mixed with a thin Fiepen. His face swelled red that he had swallowed the smoke.

With Gregor had laughed. But such statements were opinion and not his cup of tea, made for dizziness due to severe Kopfschüttelns. Sure, it also resulted in the sight of a well-shaped female body attractive, tended tingling and the synapses began spontaneously einberufe a chord work shift. Nevertheless.

"Gently sweeping curves, lips moist, tender bites under hot kisses, in the back festkrallen their breath whiff felt in the ear ... Sure, the ravishing, great. Verwuschelte hairs between zerwühlten pillows, wolllüstiges grin after waking up ... Traumhauft! But when the body except Lichen nothing to a woman finds interesting, except the passionate affection is not a level at which you share something with it ... If you make a joke and you only see Glupschaugen confused with an imaginary, flashing question mark on the forehead, verständnislos ... If they then perhaps still at least silly giggles, because they suspect that what you just said, you may well have to be funny ... But this is scrap! Since missing but the Major ounce of 'more'! "Gregor muttered to herself when he was in the boiling water tipped his cup." The lust for the female body, but in a much larger and broader appeal rise ... The only makes a woman desirable, or not? Am I really too idealistic? Is this already too much to ask? "'s Own, he had that right thinking, a priori, the" target group "tremendously reduced.

And his track success in recent years, but a little from the eyes had lost. Jörg would already know what he did. Moreover, it was finally his life. And that was how Gregor easily find sighing had for some time but much more exciting than his own. Raindrops clapped incessantly against the window, have come together and ran a turbid tears down the disc. Television wanted Gregor not to read, he was after rough day at work too tired.

As a graphic designer in one of the major advertising agencies should Hamburger he is a new logo for the airport Fuhlsbüttel design. It should be fresh, cheeky and concise, curious, and a Backward aircraft, a runway and a rising sun should it be seen. Twelve designs he had abgerungen PR-Chef and the airport operator sent. Dr. Achenbach. This was not a rudimentary promised. Arroganter Ignorant!

"It removes something from the fight against the Don Quixotes windmill," Gregor thought, and began a smile, the obese PR-Chef the airport than with the poor rudernde pinstripe suit Windmill present: Trinity with his chin, fleeing, fettglitzernden forehead with the almost on the back of the head reclusive, gray hair melierten approach, with its borderless, deliberately on the most deeply held high nasal tip geschobenen glasses. These opaque buttermilk this view. His mostly brown suits combined it with great determination in shirts and ties impossible patterns and color combinations, in which sight is almost grauste Gregor. At the same time, Dr. staged Achenbach is like as art patrons and glared at angelesenem openings with half knowledge, was also allegedly flew to London to access an auction for a genuine mitzubieten Magritte. Probably was Dr. Achenbach said at the exhibition opening been on the Jörg and Janine had learned to know. Probably had his unsachverständigen, erzkonservativen eyes especially big outcry in the Missgeschickliche view.

"Arroganter Kackschnösel", it escaped Gregor, ears back in the chair, the hot cup of coffee on the upper floor. Small Wutfunken glommen in on him. Especially disdainful Schnösel like Dr. Achenbach vermaledeite were the reason why Gregor's social life in recent times quite often to the benefit of unnecessary work had come back. A point that was more than angry aufstieß.

Contrary to his gönnerischen gesture, the universalgebildeten Nimbus, the Dr. Achenbach anknipste before leaving the house, on the way to public events, left his office only on large artificial intelligence. Mainly hung fuzzy aerial photographs of the airport grounds or exterior views of the terminals on the white, cool walls. And yet the brightness made an arc around the room, the gloomy interior decoration klobige-fearing, simple dark cabinets (solid oak), in which a family photos (provided), golden framed. In a Black Forest cuckoo clock, in addition to a black steel shelves with files folders. On his desk lungerte a miniature replica of the Sphinx from lapis lazuli. "Did my mother brought from Egypt." Had Achenbach purred-Gregor then nodded approvingly, his subconscious to start wondering and faded away only to a related connection between mother and Sphinx recalls.

Part III follows shortly in this theater ...

Part I

Omas old bread knife

2007-10-27T02:40:00.001-07:00

The first part saga

The altersmüden iron springs of his Ohrensessels quietschten as Gregor had to fall. "If you have what could only smear," he grumbled. Then again spread the previous silence. Schlaff and sluggish Gregor hung in the cushions and stared out the window down. Long minutes. Below: the dark Ereignislosigkeit the street below his apartment. Street lanterns langweilten the regenfeuchten paving stones with their cold light cones, close to densely parked schlummerten small car parked at the kerbside. No hint, no sound.

Even he himself remained motionless, half of a Dämmertraum umfangen, undecided. None of his friends had time tonight, let alone desire, do something about it - although he once previously Feierabend them. Although he had not yet reached Jörg tries. Focusing on one or two of Guinness in "St. Patrick's "meet around the corner, that would be fine ne thing. Gregor loved the dark brew with his moorbrackigen consistency. His fingers huschten on the telephone keypad. Patiently waiting Gregor travels spaces. Then finally.

"Hello? Oh hi, Stephan! Is Jörg also there? ... Who is? ... When Janine? Janine, Janine ... Who is going to the executioner achja again ... .. oh ... . and that's er, I mean ... who are now really? ... Yes, manure, I just wanted to ask him if he ... well, it also does not matter ... nee, was nothing urgent ... . well, do love him nen greeting. "

The sparkling passion, Jörg they felt understood Gregor not. But how both had found each other on the outcome of an opening for contemporary art. Briefly rustled a smile in Mundwinken Gregor. Janine is not interested in art. But she was happy to exhibition openings, because it's free to drink champagne was her favorite drink, which she loved so not least because of drinking "so funny tingling in the nose." This time, they sneaked into the gallery and immediately in the direction of the lean-oriented glasses, in which they are amply served, while the art gallery owner interested in the exhibits brought closer. Fluxus. Sound like luxury, was Janine. And Luxury was exactly her thing.

What Janine was not good, was level. And so they had within a short time nearly a half bottles of sparkling wine in her sparkling glass and poured behind her bandage was with their high-Stöckelschuhen on which they are moving very awkward, as it was sturzbetrunken, stumbled and in the cold buffet offerings. Directly between grits and red Matjesplatte. It had a markerschütterndes Geschepper given, and until they are held, Janine was on the floor, verkeilt wallpaper in the table, on the buffet was draped.

From her flowing, dauergewellten red curls troff grits; In their brief and deeply cut dress klebten evenly Remoulade, shrimp and Ziergemüse. For her décolleté towered the tail of a mackerel. From their own adversity touched by alcohol and woozy, Janine began to laugh hysterically. Rather they have shrieked.

The hochwohlgeborenen visitors to the opening solidified horrified, and threw her reproachfully verständnislose views, rümpften pikiert their noses, turned from happening and tuschelten with excited faces. The only amused by the whole thing was Jörg. Actually on the way to the post, he was only coincidental to the gallery vorbeigeschlurft. Spontaneously, he had the view through the window of his plans umgeworfen, and decided, as Kunstinteressierter but first a look at the newly opened exhibit to throw.

He had a small packet in the arm. That put an old bread knife, which he was raised by his grandmother had inherited. It had a silver handle and concave chases eingravierte fine illustrations of old English roses. Rare, valuable antiquated. Jörg had from the beginning is not liked. It was only years around located in his apartment. Unused. And so he had summarily auctioned on the Internet.

Jörg bent over the still helpless herabgefallenen between the bowls and plates in the trestle trapped, clangorous Janine laughing, and helped her get back on its feet. Suddenly he pulled his kurzentschlossen packet again. He rejected the idea spontaneously, the packet with a knife right now to bring to the post, but it was also started for a couple of shrimp Janines dress to scrape and then pushed her with the knife tip the delicate seafood in the half, verdutzten mouth . "Let us savor the delights on your dress and then each other ways," he had whispered into the ear. His words verhallten not unheard, he took her by the hand and both left under the indignant glances of the other visitors, Janine still uncertain step, the gallery. "I am a Mackerel!" Had they Hinausstolpern hinterhergegrölt the room. Remained understood. They tottered, they giggled, they metal in his arms.

Continued ...

2007-10-27T02:39:00.001-07:00

"Quäääk" was the only thing the duck realized after the mouse and the elephant accidentally beam with a borrowed gun shrunk and transforms wooden figurines.

Hack attack?

2007-10-25T05:44:00.005-07:00

Others say they would nix. But I got the feeling that someone has hacked into my page and the layout rumgepfuscht. A strange image in the header, beige unterlegter text, very, very strange! When's still with whom it looks like: Schreit! And if it is true, a shame that you can slog unknown bad, especially over the Internet. Maybe everything but just a mistake? !

2007-10-25T05:44:00.003-07:00

It is not enough to have no thoughts.
It is also unable to express them.
(Karl Kraus)

A hero of his time

2007-10-25T05:44:00.001-07:00

In the midst of life met him Kornél Esti suddenly. Previously, they were like twins unequal. Then, the schurkige Schlingel Kornél just kicked. How unequal they were equal. For years now heard nothing more from each other, then suddenly. The memory makes confusing phrases and suddenly, it is as if he's never been away.

Here is the gesittete, hardworking and hochanständige writer whose repertoire idea for some time but it is barren and abandoned as weathered mining ghost towns in nordrussischen Arctic Circle areas. There, the mischievous Rumtreiberling, lively source of adventure crazier ideas, a verschmitzter Bohčme, full-genussfreudig obscure projects, and arbeitsfeindlich crazy.

Both complement each other like Ying and Yang. The first is the fist, the other the eye. Fits perfectly. Age and ego, as a couple and yet one. And so rotten it is. One tells erflunkert sparkling and experience reports, the other writes zealously. And so durchtanzen it in the memory almost one dozen amazing stories. Abstruse incidents in train abroad, trips in the city where the truth is told, they roam the goings nichttsnutzige bohčmer Schlauschwätzer in cozy coffee houses, dive into the iridescent charm of Budapest, guzzle insane Erbsummen meet university presidents, nothing can be better than that of public events through seliges Slumbering to shine.

Still, there is a lot more to discover, beschmunzeln and fun to browse in this equally exciting as enjoyable novel full of life, whose witty and eye sharpness today emit less; In Dezső Kosztolányis great work, "A hero of his time. The confessions of Kornél Esti. ", which in the late twenties was, but only in just two years, also appeared on German. Nachwievor Kosztolányi is hardly known nurmehr seething secret here. "A hero ..." One is less stringent than a novel augenzwinkerndes collection of stories, it is, but every single one of them wrapped his own magic, a stunning Cloutier, captivating atmosphere, sensuality without mawkishness, Esprit and wit without platitudes, feinstrichige sketches in detail without losing Intelligence without Besserwisserei.

Thomas Mann was a great admirer of Kosztolányi, Peter Eszterhazy he is "the greatest Hungarian writer," Sándor Márai saw in him his idol. Strangely, he is still barely a concept to someone. But those who know him, and remain mostly rave. During his re-discovery a few years ago, the reviewer wrote the Süddeutsche Zeitung even: "Desző Kosztolányi was a genius, maybe even a god." I will not here cheering Babel Tower building, but everyone here this novel highly try.

Before joy, I almost burst yesterday when I discovered by chance that there are other, previously lost novels around Kornél Esti, who recently appeared. I have no hesitation added. The reading lamp next to my pillow in the next few days longer burn, I durchstreife new Eugenspiegeleien, let me push back on the glittering flow of a language of my favorite authors. For me the discovery in recent years.

Also, losrennen and arrange! Verschlingt him. Laughs that beams bend and break. Badet in almost amazing voice elegance! The süffisante Hintersinnigkeit admired. Maybe it's also for you, perhaps even a hot discovery? Who's interested, you can find more votes.

A man, a car - an expiration date?

2007-10-25T05:43:00.007-07:00

Meanwhile, K.I.T.T. Probably no more TÜV.

The Un-Tag TM (I)

2007-10-25T05:43:00.005-07:00

Unverhofft sometimes more often than you think, in general, if you are not so profitable. Insgeheim scrawls one secret wishes, desires and expectations in mental Kladden, look again into the daily routine becoming thicker book of the past experience, and tries to guess what might come. Once the expected future to the present, and experienced little later, the past has experienced, is adjusted. What I hoped for and expected? What happened, what is not? What surprises are hit because one chance in the sandbox can not play? At the end of periods ends to look back on the experience - inventory, räsonierendes Resümieren, the bottom line is zurechtgezogen. Does today's one or the other. Yesterday also, and even before that a lot. But what is not happening to me today?

I am not hornbebrillten Schnurrbartträger in violet robe met Felt, the Apricot from the shirt collar looked.

I have no unexpected invitation for a lobster buffet by the government of Pseudowinzstaates Sealand.

I said that, despite the bear forces and hands as Kneifzangen not broken faucet.

There were not suddenly a rescue ring of a pack DGzRS tacks, or a rosemary - whirlpool-tablet in a red aluminum foil in the refrigerator.

Ulla Kock on Brink is not on our apartment door jingled to-Window-Color image with manure Fork's motives for the fight against the dying forest to sell.

2007-10-25T05:43:00.003-07:00

Something had changed since he last through this door was kicked. But he helped himself Kopfkratzen initially not strong on the jumps.

On the evening aloud

2007-10-25T05:43:00.001-07:00

Sometimes miners working underground. Entsteigen then at the end of the layer to the elevator, bonded hauchfeiner dust the skin pores, a certain similarity to coffee powder is not always deny. Maybe drink miners also like coffee. At least from time to time. This is not too much-needed thoughts on the relationship of Röstbohnengebräu unteridischen tunnels and bubbled in my brain, when I am in the queue in front of the "Miner's Coffee" einreihe.

Density Drängelschlangen before neuschicken coffee bars are not commonplace in Munster. Rather whistled the sparrows from the rooftops that the Nestor, Doyen and the German Zarathustra column matters, the bad haferstichlige Glossenschreiberlinge, Harald Martenstein stone, between coffee beans and milk foam for a reading colony. Together with Radio Q, the Uniradio, they have the famous writer Ling of the Tagesspiegel and the TIME for the "Poetry night" after Munster piloted.

Inside there Gewusel. I-Books are up, headphones squeeze at the apex. Finally, the reading live on the airwaves, and then even to download on the website. Champagne will be served. Feedback loops are humming, a champagne glass fragments when someone in the audience wants to keep shut their ears and forget that the hand up to date Prosecco Hold been used. The audience coos and burbles bunt confused.

Unlike Blogger readings here, however, is "Bunte- or gala ^blogging" TM nonsense. Who also on the reading and watch who is whom do not yet taken but positively or negatively amazed, who, you know what I said and did, who came with whom and who is at the bottom with whom heimgeht interested this is hardly, except myself because hardly anyone knows someone of those present.

And now comes the Masters, briefly anmoderiert, shuffles from the Angestellten-WC, where he was allowed to maintain his audience. Strip needles on its anthracite suit, nice beard umfusseln lausbübische the smile of his lips, his eyes glisten keck. His voice knarzt rough. And, even though he did not smoke and cigarette shop in India around the corner in Berlin just bought lighters, because the owners welcome him to always be kind umschnurrt. Unprätentiös, and wonderfully self gewitzt he spins the threads between its texts, garnished with anecdotes.

A good inventor, he is not, he says. But an everyday eagle-eye. With schwungvollem stroke he outlined the bizarre Duscharmaturen between madness and auto workshop. The Berliner knödeligen meat salesperson, the purchase of a mozzarella salad verhageln or the horrified Karstadt saleswomen glances when the well-heeled customer standing with the premium Happy-Digit - card suddenly double grain purchases. He reported unsuccessful effort to Hipness thanks to the guns to him the fate pfefferte between the legs in an attempt, in Kreuzberg to Coke to come to it at least one time even tried to have. Also, why he prefers in Munster than in Berlin would buy shoes. Only thanks to him we are thinking about whether Hitler may have problems with dry feet, and where the relationship between the Internet and penis size is.

Whether he actually almost a Stückchenpfütze on the Frühstücksfernsehmoderationstisch by Thomas Koschwitz would leave after his foot with moisturizing cream teeth cleaned, or whether it only has seen too much Amélie, disturbs no great spirit. The diaphragm quivers in prestissimo. His wit and edgier nonchalanter peppiness accelerates the time. Holterdipolter, it is already gone. Much too fast.

The audience falls on the books table, squeezes in front of the lectern to Sigi kidneys. Please for Eva. Can you write that I am your biggest fan-so I think my biggest fan Harald? Gieriger turmoil. Elongate arms, hands grapschen. When I suggested to Bauchhöhlengegrummel. Time for the predator gastric feeding. Maximum amuses me leave the coffee refill and make me on the way into the dark night. Once Q Radio on its homepage reading than the recording download has made, I will be there with me on a board ban. Because war's toll.

Gift horse's mouth with a scent

2007-10-25T05:42:00.003-07:00

Kilo-way dead matter would me dull and helpless gaze, it would be uncharitable not in a plastic bag gepfropft. Kauert now in the corner. A helpless, slightly stupid bunch, himself no favor. From one place to another hunted. And those from whom I got him a gift, are those who just favor. Quite the contrary. And I feel almost guilty for my resentment. What a gift and then forget it moppern, these are the right. Mürbelfuzzi ungrateful, which I probably am now. My stomach crunches angry, my mouth angle between eiern erboster high tension and disappointment ausgeleierter back and forth.

Geprickelt has, as at Christmas, I got an email that I won. Gehüpft my heart. You do not win every day for a prize. And then even a book Poertgen-Herder package of the best, largest book retailer in Muenster. New, great fodder for the bookworm? ! Great!

I had participated in the Christmas raffle of "Campus Relations", the student association for PR-Praxis. A handsome team of sponsors, they had good cause for the win and a fine package of various gains lace. Very nice, dedicated people who are beyond lectures and seminars voluntary projects in the field of public relations. Almost a little excited I was when I was allowed to drive today vorfreudig festive gift-giving.

Friendly faces welcome called me, asked me herein. Quick was the digital camera hervorgekramt for the handover photograph. Smile. Cameras click, flash! Again, you have geblinzelt grad, as I squeezed off. Klaro, will be made. Again smile. For such a happy occasion. Gespannt what the renowned bookstore itself as a price for the students so has in mind. A little fragmented but then my anticipation. When I was out there - again - with the fervent exploring my profits began schubste the disappointment, the smile on the bridge railing. It remained firmly bravely tried to back up again, rang for his life, but it fell down and zerschepperte the ground.

The joyful students had assigned the winner spendierfreudige bookstore:

First: A abgegrabbeltes paperback: "Real estate sales in Italy, acquire, possess, sell, inherit."
Second: A thin, broschiertes guide book: "My garden paradise, the herb garden."
Third: "The horoscope guide for the bull."
Fourth: A Graphologie-Set with plastic ruler and magnifying glass.
Fifth: "Indian aphrodisiacs. Brief introduction with illustrations. "Eingerissenem envelope.
The sixth "Marianas longing." The life story of a nun in the 17th Century.
7 "I killed Norma Jeane" Hanjo Lehmann. A novel.
8: "A hundred ways to see the moon" From Nathalie Weidenfeld. A triangle story, which recommends Wolfgang Joop. Plastic wrappings torn the novels.

All remaining conditions and velvet returns without "deficiencies copy" -Stempel. Eight books, a serious bunch, just still on the Billigwühltisch, already winner in the plastic bag. Hingerotzt. Spendierhosen remnants of the ramp. Actually, a wonderfully absurd compilation. Krude, obscure, nobody needed abseitig as can be. But what to do? Aid Loses Schulterzucken, verlegenes smile even from the students, a little embarrassed seem. A little touch of pity, we had to give away what you got sponsored.

A small smile dances in the melted delight in trying to guess what point of view the books collected here have been like. What more could a student be like? How much would I have a coupon for self congestion Search pleased, happy, even if only for a single, small paperback. Instead, a loveless closely wild mix obscure Ramschbücher for me even after hours of thinking but "gifts" or "dispose of" too little thinking of what else I would do so gladly. Relaxed in the reading chair gefläzt, do I become a little aphrodisierenden secrets from India to ransack and briefly amuses with magnifying glass and plastic ruler in handwriting samples after hidden motives psychological research.

Loving like I can announce who is on a look of the books would - or all of them. If the MC for the property including a nice Jacuzzi nor the purchase of a villa in Italy is planning - I have the perfect guide for that. Who between late April and May is born, and then burn, a horoscope to tinker: No trick. Briefly unscrambles the bad conscience again high: Freu you! You have won what is not ungrateful. I would be happy now, but especially about creative ideas, what I do with my sending plastic bag along papiernem content geschicktestenfalls queues. Fine, that there are other books stores in Muenster, Gutenachtlektüren my future, I will only buy there. Pity.

Wings of Desire

2007-10-25T05:42:00.001-07:00

2007-10-24T03:39:00.003-07:00

The boring way between two points is a straight line.

Berlin faces (I)

2007-10-24T03:39:00.001-07:00

The right jacket pocket is after, the thin beige fabric, the skirt is too weak for the grain bottle, into which he has. Now he strumpelt by the slippery snow Schivelbeiner the road. Schrumpelnasig, warzenwangig. On shockingly old. Lonely curls hanging slack rough under his woolen cap. Geglänzt have probably been a long time. He clasps his hands with rotgefrorenen cardboard cup, the coffee steams. The only heat for him on that icy penultimate evening of the year. The soles of his shoes dissolve. His facial skin is dry and zerkerbt as Landschollen after months of drought. "Down, down, down with the government!" , Muhammad said. "Down, down, down with the capital!"

About him flickers the broken neon sign of Windelservices. "Workshops, accessories. Everything around the winding, "is blurry letters to be read. His left foot remains in a black Eisma Czechoslovakia hang lumps. He plunges. The coffee cup flies in the snow. A cozy puddle melts the hole. "Damn hoe. Snow shit! "He curses as he can hardly sit up. Again and again he slips. I durchwühle my wallet. Finally succeed him but to stand firm. I am committed to him, consider him a coin. "Here. For a new coffee. " Surprise twinkles in his eyes. One moment he looks only. Then follows the most marvelous, zahnarme smile of the year. "Thank you," he growls disconcerts. Again, "Thank you! What did I deserve this? " "Only in this way." "Enter at eight. The snow here is scheißglatt. " About me on the steel tracks the stop Schönhauser Allee, which rushes the subway, I wanted to catch. Who's cares? Another will come. Soon.

2007-10-24T03:38:00.009-07:00

Somewhere between crack toothpick yellowed teeth. And then there was this green face, from which a schauderndes, sour smile herunterfloss like vinegar.

Wash and dry

2007-10-24T03:38:00.007-07:00

"It's strange," said Luci, curved her chin with his thumb and wrapped a two curls on her finger. "In the past, my boots were also in the deepest snow waterproof and snug warm. Kilometers wide, I could so through ice cold poles, nothing had my feet feel chilly. But apparently I have a small hole in the sole cut, as I two weeks ago at the cathedral at night in broken glass underfoot bin. Now I can already look for a quarter-hour hike through snow wring my socks, and after 10 minutes my boots from the inside hair. "

"You föhnst your boots from the inside?" Ada curled the forehead and searching her handbag for a cigarette lighter.

"What else can I do? My boots to get moldy? Moisture is in the long term for leather fatal. It is not long ago, because I have the wardrobe tidy my grandmother and my old leather backpack found again, and I years ago when it had forgotten. Under the wardrobe is the cold, damp cellar. He stands at the poorly insulated outer wall, and the room itself was rarely well heated. It may be only a good year location, but he was completely gets moldy, grauweißhaarigen excessive lint like a schmuddeliger invented. "

"No tasty idea," mumbled Ada, which is just a cigarette between his lips had pushed, with the newly found Lighter promptly inflamed. Their lips kerbten in, silvery smoke danced to the ceiling.

"Quite the opposite of his."

"But mold is generally not very tasty idea. Especially me alone already thinking about the weißfaulige creep back to Steven recalls. "Adas pressed her lips together. Their turned pale skin, the mouth angle downward arc. They drew fierce in their cigarette. A few flakes of ash landed on her black velvet pants, were swept aside nimble.

"Steven?"

"The Feinrippunterbuxeninformatiker, with whom I Kandinsky in the street for."

"You have times in a WG usual?"

"For years, before Steven me and for all times by the desire to residential communities cured."

"I remember only vaguely."

"You Happy. There was no more vivid than half his refrigerator, all too often populated and the same angegessene yogurt a three-quarter of the rear corner before the long fibers soon enough that he would have by itself herausklettern, once the door is opened. "

"Ürgs."

Suddenly up at Adas facial features before schmunzelndem pleasure, laughter and angular escaped between their teeth shining through.

"The old rascal has also constantly on my expensive Washes Out and shower gels. Whenever I have the luxury of giving my body with something really good to maintain, Dior, Chanel, it was - poof! - Empty. Although faults - just emptied all my shower gel bottles alarmingly fast. I have always wondered how much soap he rightly came. All care products, flushing, shower gel forth all belonged to me, not him. If just shower gel shortage at the man, I am the last, the bleats, if you look briefly served elsewhere. But I have no desire that the cleanliness of others at my expense. Have not at the expense of my dearly acquired care products. Eventually, I pointed him once. "

"I would also."

"He looked at me just as stoic cold cardboard and filled with indignation at what me because cloud him to insinuate something. He was not a thief, and certainly not Duschgelschuft. "

"But the rapid consumption of my deliriously Waschemulsionen, shampoos and shower gels continued."

"And what have you done?"

"Eventually, as my Chanel-shower was empty, I have it with Remoulade refilled. Two days later, suddenly, a bottle of shampoo for oily hair on Duschbeckenrand. "

Ada laughed again, small Rauchwölkchen raced from her nose, she drew one last time at her cigarette, and crushed them in the ashtray.

A posteriori

2007-10-24T03:38:00.005-07:00

And he still said: "No, but I have enough beer. No Bacardi. Have nothing to do with Fanta. The evil ends. " And then he was invited but punchy. And hardly Fanta in almost pure rum. Could you with a magnifying glass looking for partners who Limoanteile. Harter substance, which I tell Dir And not just a glass, at least three. And Sect And then still beer. And not just one. Because the part is so, and is also New Year's Eve. No Pardon. And his self-squatting precaution in a rescue capsule, moved to a higher Warft back, fled before the flood and looked at it from slightly elevated body from outside. Even he was only half Zerschlürftes awareness. A good humored Dämmer, liquid ignorance watered him, and his awareness of liquefied be triggered on in clear water. He still knows everything, but he was not quite there. Dozens nice faces, the potential enormous nice conversations and everything but a little schalou, because you know, you see in the fog rarely clear. The next morning, when the fog has been cleared, he says, the only right. And what all of it probably might have thought. So, have never met, and then, but even such a thing. Donnerknispel. And do not properly noticed, was midnight. More than strange. And then sometime the night went. And thought, "Hey, you be grandiose sense of orientation, but go instead of the familiar roadside dadrüben long time, it should also work." And has that worked, but until more than an hour later. In between Dean shuffling between überschneiten glistening lakes in the Tiergarten, selbstverlorenes eggs on the streets of 17th June. And in between the snow but more like peanut butter ice-cold. Bräunliches Gematsche. Angetaut. And, as with almost Karnickelködeln inside, the Streusplitt so you do not slip. The shoes gnash at every step. Odyssey. Almost winkelscher general sense. Huch, very empty in the victory column. And the S-Bahn station Bellevue. But only pure and out again. Now S-Bahn-Fahren not just because you never know. In sonem condition. Dogged Weiterstapfen. Without a plan, but with fervor. And then, but completely and without a city plan in the unfamiliar city back. Eventually hooked awareness again climbed from its encapsulation, the flood pulled back. A crowd had fun, a little sore muscles in the thighs and kinsternde idea that an illustrious mountain enormously sympathsicher people it would have to be sober to know. The opportunity will come. Does he, as he blushed slightly butter on the multi-grain bread slice smears. Almost a touch of Selbstfremdeln durchschwummert him. Then he stirs klackernd with the spoon through the steaming coffee in Steingutbecher and thinks: "After all had fun."

Mooi Fiert!

2007-10-24T03:38:00.003-07:00

Snow whistles. But he is soaked masses on the roofs of the city. Where else to sit sparrows. And the whistle again. Currently whistles also virtually nothing from the rooftops, but the condensed rumors that the year will soon take his hat and dashes in the past. Hit all fun and sturzfrei into next year! Let champagne corks pop, spared from Kapuzenpullikapuzen D-Böllern and let you go good!

Lying hope

2007-10-24T03:38:00.001-07:00

The flame of snow in Teekerze glanzlackierten porcelain angel flickered briefly. Then a thin soot quoll flag from the soul air holes in the back of the angel doll, which until just flickering flame was extinguished.

Still stollenvoll sat on the eve Wiebrand and Helga on Christmas breakfast table. Wiebrand tried with fire and zeal dull knife to the hard egg heads, Helga climbed from the chair behind the massive oak desk out to other aufzubrühen coffee.

To date breakfast in a little sag to be stretched Helga. My sweater slipped slightly and gave up for a few seconds to look at their rosy belly. Suddenly a joyful grin curved Wiebrands comfortably curved mouth.

"Well? Grad Have you considered how chic it looks when a small brilliant in my navel sparkle would treasure? "Helga ask coquettishly.

"Not quite. I have a look at your pocket and dared about why because a garbage bag herausbaumelt band. "

Second fragmented hopeful romance in a flash as the egg shell, the Wiebrands blunt knife had finally penetrated.

2007-10-24T03:37:00.009-07:00

Trojan Horses teeth.

2007-10-24T03:37:00.007-07:00

A few stragglers squeezing still in crowded shops, to the last but still handles the appropriate gift to buy, as the boxer's fist on blue eye adapts. Many are packed travel bags, backpacks and packages stowed laced to settle in overloaded trains in the direction of home idyllic Christmas tree with fresh apples natural trading session. In a few days already balls at the lush bellies before lunch. Gift paper and clear film rustle among the pine needles, tension crackles, shivers of anticipation. Dad tried Dicki with the miniature nuclear power plant-kit, is the stuff neutron accelerator in the combustion chamber and cute astonished, as it "Puff" and makes the cow falls. Opa crows' earlier was more tinsel! " , Climbs through the mountains of paper and seeks an outlet for his new record player, while mom is on the hot Heinzelmann Saugblaser happy.

Also I will be soon on the way home, in ostfriesischen climes with the Christ child to drink a Christmas, the love relationship again in the eyes to look under flickering candles and chocolate to feed the feet up and gained dear old friends meet (and the obligatory Christmas Parties also a lot of people whose existence me since the last Christmas party again almost eliminated and no matter was comparatively).

I wish you all now, before I's empty no more timely basis, potential and give highly enjoyable Christmas day, whatever the individual plans, aspirations and traditions look. As I myself have graphically documented, is the Santa Claus on the way to recovery. Cold baths with spruce oil show surprising salutary effect. Perhaps it is up to Christmas Eve but was back up to the dam. The hope green.

2007-10-24T03:37:00.005-07:00

Mole clusters are often heaped on.

I Aistear dtreo Atha Clíath-memories of experiences in the capital of the island green (III)

2007-10-24T03:37:00.003-07:00

Kracht on stone gravel and mud. The loading area of the Frontkippers ever steeper slopes. Ratsch. A hoarse thunder. The cluster is located. Small dust clouds dance around. With shovels kohleschwarzen push him apart. Steel on stone metallic clanks. Bagger scratching the soil. Krrk. His diesel köttelt and smokes. The gasifier's not doing more long. Pneumatic drill fragmenting the rocky earth, tar and squawking is milled apart concrete, pipes disintegrated under the force of intersecting Flex into their individual parts. Srrrrrrrrrk. Ting Ting.

Pneumatic Hammer wuppern the ground level. Welding on into old dirty forehead, smeared with the dirt. Blaubehoste hub wipe the dust from their eyes, move their helmet correctly and drain new concrete slabs. Rast Lose steam engines, spray sparks, press and roll, rumble, beat grubbern and clatter. Trucks set back. The backhoe turns. The excavator leader drops the cigarette between the pedals. Accidentally. And here will soon scorching hot new skin on the main artery of the city stuck together. The city lives, the city quivers.

The boulevard in upheaval. On photographs were lush trees here. Currently there are construction site lattice and fences. In the narrow escapes squeeze between the fences to double the gelbblauen double-decker buses. Motors resent, to the howl If the gas pedal. Small cars are clamped in between. No one honks. The sidewalks in front of people burst. All are waiting for their buses. None grumbles. A maze of shopping bags is the way to the slalom track.

Since hardly trams travel and there is no subway, everything goes here and every bus, seems's. The überfülltesten bus stops in the world, there is probably in Dublin. O'Connell Street has a very special sound these days. Unablässiges, lively stuff in many languages and volumes durchschwirrt the gray afternoon air on both road sides.

Many wait at the traffic lights (which perhaps only lights in the world with a digital countdown second, which shows how many seconds or red), to hinüberzusausen. The construction noise. Countless small charity groups crow Christmas Carols and clatter with slotted cans. Schmalztriefende Panflötenweihnachtslieder zähfließend dripping from the speakers before Clery's department store and glued the pavement. A blonde woman with grellhellblauer jacket leans on the shop window and smokes. They snips the dump on the klangklebrigen stones. An itinerant preacher whiskeytrunkener keeps his small mountain sermon. His head resembles one in the sunlight become limp broccoli Rose, rotbärtiges his face is oily. He huddles both arms into the sky and jangles curses on those who are wronged. The city is alive. The city quivers.

Hundertfünfundneunzig to-one

2007-10-24T03:37:00.001-07:00

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Avian bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird
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Avian bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird
Avian bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird
Avian bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird
Avian bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird
Avian bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird
Avian bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird
Avian bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird
Avian bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird
Avian bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird bird

When the foot is the curse

2007-10-24T03:36:00.009-07:00

Wulnikowski is on a rusty nail taken of the shoe sole drilled directly into the meat. Precisely in the foot, eh where already a toe missing. With feet he will now forever by you. In a black dress and with zerlaufender potato nose he comes Urs, the Swiss funeral entrepreneurs from the Horn Street. Three years ago, they were briefly neighbors. Urs looks Wulnikowski and says:

"My uncle has times on the hand pissed, as a dragon fish it has bitten. Piss disinfected. "
"I only know of dragon fruit."
"No, dragon fish. There's also fruit. But not bite. "
"And what should I look at the shoe sole pee, you idiot? I have enormous amount of snakes, but I am not a snake person. "
"I am monitoring this, if you want."
"Does foreign Piss disinfecting ever since? I have my doubts. "
"Piss Piss is. We will surely all the same Piss? ! "
"Okay, then piss me."

Urs tried him on the walk to pee, but the effort is too great. He never made it. Even more, they can still laugh. What made the walk is perhaps the vulture knows, the sky or anyone. Otherwise it will be the future.

Labels: Wulnikowski

I Aistear dtreo Atha Clíath-memories of experiences in the capital of the island green (II)

2007-10-24T03:36:00.007-07:00

At the northern end of O'Connell Street, from Buskolonnen and small cars roaring, is set in stone, the Parnell monument. It spreads the Gate Theater-his round belly, to absorb the statue, it should fall. Left hand is the Rotunda Hospital, Europe's first official maternity clinic. The grandeur of this magnificent boulevards crumbled abruptly, and now, we turn right into the side street.

Verwaschnes as in a children's apron, Nichtmehrgetragnes, despite everything, something happens. Two cottages, whose brick walls of the dreckiggrauen, greedy tongues of rain forever niederklatschenden sore and dull licked were opposed to different high and shoulder-to-shoulder together as a national player in the drive to the camera anthem. Top tiny homes, down schäbbige pubs, decaying Internet cafes, African barbershops, Off-Licence liquor stores. Neon signs überflackern hogs garbage bags. The drängelnde O'Connell-Street surges of traffic here, the metal spray sweeps over the Tar blankets eastward. A pair trainingsbehostes devours each other. A small, dunkeläugiges girl turns with the left hand on his golden Kringelohrring and sucks on the right thumb. The palate is marmeladeverschmiert. Grease stains on the pink shine Quilting. Before the pubs are chewed sausage pieces and other morsel in galligfeuchten puddles. Parnell Street.

We turn left into the Northern St. Georges Street. Only one more corner, and the atmosphere turns again. Also still splendor Boulevard, then comes schlumpig-herunter, wuselige trifles Street, now bourgeois living quarters. Zig Bakery dozen Georgian citizens' houses. Braunrot brick front, hoisted upright, clear off the horizontal gable. Freud Lose uniformity. The basement stairs and entrance gates of schulterhohen includes black Gusseisenzäunen. The variation is only in the size of the window and the momentum and the opulence of the sandstone pillar portals with their artfully übewölbten with glass, colorfully painted entrance doors. Colorful inviting inputs contrast with tristem, uniform walls.

Art full curved, arabesk decorated street lights bow to the roadway. Right hand, at the beginning, is completely inconspicuously in one of these houses the James Joyce Center. It has until January. The hostel relic of the Master is renovated. Several hundred yards uphill, as unobtrusively, is Mount Eccles Court, our hostel. With Slavic accent welcomes us the reception Dame. We live under Croatian rule house and learn that we are at the next day the room will exchange must get key cards and breakfast pieces of paper and disappear through the whitewashed light blue, slightly distorted wooden door to the stairwell. The stocky, steep staircase moans and injustice under our feet like a singing dog, as we up to the third floor to climb. Short breathers. C. is still not better. Sticht abgestandener sweet smell of chlorine in our noses.

Card in the slot put it klackt. Curious enter our home for the coming night. Klein is the Bude. Two newly purchased beds crouch in the narrowness of the sides. Bräunlicher mold hornhautfarbenen climbs through the walls. A single table is left in the corner. His former friends, the trash cans and he chairs were removed before the dawn of time. Cold wind shreds sweep by the cracking of the wood window. Between the weathered rungs give schlierige slices the view of a courtyard. A nested maze of walls, partially covered with barbed wire. The white paint is chipped widespread. The bathroom is deleted in the same color as bad teeth cleaned, the Klorollenhalter dented buckles under the load of emotions layered rust. During the mirror kleinstgewachsene only for a glance into the human face possible (I see myself up to the chest), appears to be the basket of shower gel in the shower for basketball players, and is designed two meters high. C. sweats and goes immediately into the bathroom. His stomach is not better, the head still hurts. I let the heavy baggage, ask worried him if I can do something good and make me on the first urban exploration, while he initially in the small chamber remains to sleep and again forces to rest in the hope that the nervous stomach and a migraine mörsernden-beat them.

2007-10-24T03:36:00.005-07:00

And then she asked: "How was it? Is it true that Richard Clayderman then some pieces for Mozart composed? "

Sir, if the Vikings proud enemies wear helmets

2007-10-24T03:36:00.003-07:00

We stuck in a dilemma, then, seven years ago. Jan and me. Both were we in the central pillar of Bass Ubbo-Emmius-Chores Leer. Well, in the Advent season, there were two great performances by J.S. Bach's "Christmas Oratorio." One of them in the Great kerzenerleuchteten Reformed Church in Leer, the other in the community, where the conductor of the orchestra of the Folkwang Essen University as organist worked in Gelsenkirchen. Actually, we have a duty. Bach prove the honor, loyalty testify to the choir, even if we as a singer, but we gave the audience something, or 15 DM should pay for the round-trip transportation. Mürbelnd light on these crooked, we fell into a dilemma. Because on the same evening of Gelsenkirchen-concert was also the "Hard Bagaluten leg" of peat Rock in Aurich. Wikingischer nonsense from peat bog or Holm hocherwürdiges cultural heritage from Leipzig?

Heimlich we decided to brook the honor, but only the voice and Leeraner concert on the eve on eisglatte streets after Aurich to slither, where pneumatic hammer B-B-B-Bernhard "hello" to say with peat Stecher Adula Zech with the road roller by peat bog Holm to rattle, full Granaade Renaade Rollo with the Vikings on board, Methumpen to raise and the High Baroque art genius pranks and counterpoint a festive evening in the background would make sense. The audience burst of buschbärtigen Zauselbärten, Viking helmets, the most common head covering. Everything bawled, many laughed, beer cups were thrown, the mood cooked, the massive body sweated under their Lederkutten.

***

In winter coats wrapped felt rushed the audience about the icy cobblestones in the festively lit church. Neat young people in formal suits scurried into the community house. The evening performance of the large Christmas in Leer. Shortly before the concert begins, I met Mr. E., the teacher of my music performance course. In the belief that I was in the church at Gelsenkirchen Advent Christmas Oratorio performance been ignorant about my torfrockenden Geheim-Exkurs, he asked me:

"What is wrong because the concert, yesterday? If everything went well? "

"Oh, it was great. The ruler of heaven had heard the phase. In the audience were almost all Viking helmets, were thrown Bierbechern, mitgegrölt and sung, Methumpen lifted. It has unbelievably after schalem sweat and alcohol haze stunk, but it was otherwise great. "

He turned pale, scented betrayal of baroque grand, maybe durchgeisterten riots Schalke fans in a Christmas church decorated his head cinemas, Rabauken the actual choir with kehligem override rowdiness and desecrate the holy work.

"They have now even before nix more respect these Asis!"

"Well ..." I could still rise, then plunged I continued to my laughing fit in front of his face to hide. Clarified I changed it to him until today.

Santa Claus has flu

2007-10-24T03:36:00.001-07:00

Buried deep under the snow,
So it's hard to see them,
Even a thick freezes bepelztes deer
Living the love Santa Claus.

But this year, who shall 'is suspect
It does not fit into the stuff,
A disease pulled their orbits
, And "Father Christmas" lame.

Instead of "Hohoho" There's aspirin,
Instead Echinacine sleigh ride.
Nothing will be in jumping on the slide
And the world presents.

Blanket over,'s up on blankets,
The red cap remains on the hook,
The whole year was nothing wrong,
But now that's serious, the Schnief.

The Puppenwichtel are confused,
Nothing is more coordinated.
Even on the ceiling of dough sticks
Now in the Christmas Bakery

The Imp make pure chaos,
Rigor is not a trace,
Everyone does what he wants
And the factory is still present.

"Hey, Captain Bluebear, you turn?
Hello, this is Santa Claus.
Did you do on Christmas Eve free?
Otherwise, send me but Hein owns over.

Because I lie sick in bed, burned out,
And if that worked, plural 'I's nice,
If you swinging from the railing
And for me to bring gifts. "

"Yes" says Käptn "is the clear.
Kelly Hein is because you tomorrow.
Then flies, who would have thought?
, Ne rat by the holy night. "

Fröhöliche Christmas on the market

2007-10-24T03:35:00.007-07:00

The sweet bell never slip in snow, still rigid and is Santa Claus, with his gifts. On Christmas tree lights burn, it sounds through the air, good sound. Only the Angels Hallelujah, holder boy in curly hair. Christmas.

Mulled wine haze durchfuselt kaltklare the inner city from the late morning, drinking fraternity with dripping clouds, cinnamon scent, a hint of candied apples, honey, waxed wood, deer tallow albums, crispy pizza cheese, burnt almonds, green cabbage and sausage. In verknoteten swell the hordes sanguine Christmas carol singers with murky light chain view through the inner city, in front of the wooden balls huts, where they are in order and colorful significant quantities Rumkakao became premiere Prime Minster of the Democratic Republic of Congo, Hirsch cocoa, hot apple juice with Amaretto or tasteless canister mulled wine to pour down the throat .

It is important in large groups, the Christmas market winding streets to flood and any flow interruption, even if those who watch what wants to use for drinking. This is also recognizes again (at a later hour twice), it carries red hats or Plüschgeweihe Zipfel (reindeer antennas), in the case Optimal flashing, and soon recognize that others also thought it would be a lot easier to recover when you have no Mützenblinkgezipfel worn on the head would. Unknown fellow come near them, are with their bulky shopping bags to catch. Irmgard sneaks secretly by the Punschbude away. In their turns everything grad in the stomach. When they return to their group encountered a Stückchenpfütze sparkles in the form of the star of Bethlehem in the small alley. Nearly they would still have a braided basket stumbled. But while dodging collided with the cell phone. Even standing in the way of rum.

Wham! , Chris Rea, Bing Crosby and Roxette from various boxing verschwurbeln to numbers Bastard Pop. The cone Club "Goss's free" bawls punschbefeuert rich "Jingle bells." Hiltraud drips from the Reibekuchenschale applesauce on the suede shoes. "Verflixte ax!" , Brawls Rainer. With mittens let the mulled wine jars Henkel worse record than planned. Now shards lie at his feet. "Mifft. Haste times but who fagen kömm, daff daf for heif ifft. Iff got me the Ffunge verbrammp "mürbelt Ilse. She has her husband a red and white plush Tanga purchased. The Christmas Eve is to be inaugurated.

Gold ears

2007-10-24T03:35:00.005-07:00

Christmas day shuffles closer. And slung behind, in the back, we also roams the New Year period. Each year, a pleasant occasion, the neck muscles to train the head to rotate and look back a little too daring. I am in the mountain all newly confiscated plates this year Submerged have music, and the throbbing of research and at the end of 1915 albums and songs with back to the surface taken in order to the best of the year to explain. Not a few albums and songs have plucked at the hem pants, dragged, cunning, bitten and insulted out of the lower lip, because they just as good and deserve to land on the list. But it is not entirely wrong, even at some times provisional final decision. Curtain up for the musical pieces cream 2005:

My current mood of a herausdestillierten 15 albums of the year:

First ... And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead-Worlds apart
Second The decemberists - Picaresque
Third Bright Eyes - I'm wide awake, it's morning
Fourth Ben Folds - Songs for Silverman
Fifth Kaizers Orchestra - Maestro
Sixth Okkervil River-Black sheep boy
Seventh Sigur Rós - Takk ...
Eighth The Fall Of Troy-Doubles
Ninth Dredg-catch without arms
10th Sufjan Stevens-Illinois
Eleventh DEUS-Pocket revolution
Twelfth Ryan Adams-Cold roses
Thirteenth Pelican - The fire in our throats will beckon the thaw
14th The Mars Volta-Frances the mute
15th The Stereotypes - dto

Ten of the songs really fine running calendar year:

First ... And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead-Will you smile again?
Second The decemberists - The engine driver
Third Kaizers Orchestra-Dieter Meyers Inst
Fourth DEUS-Bad timing
Fifth Sufjan Stevens-John Wayne Gacy Jr.
Sixth Okkervil River-For real
Seventh Bloc Party-Banquet
Eighth Amusement Parks On Fire-Venus in cancer
Ninth The Killers - Mr. Bright Side
10th Franz Ferdinand - The fall
Eleventh The Fall Of Troy-F.C.P.R.E.M.I.X.
Twelfth Kettcar - dikes
Thirteenth Sun Kil Moon-Ocean breathes salty
14th Jose Gonzalez-Crosses
15th The Stereotypes-Almost lost

Labels: Oles music tips

Haard-Trapper

2007-10-24T03:35:00.003-07:00

"We take our small child in the stroller with hiking."

With this commitment, Hildegard and Aribert dates in an avalanche triggered.

I Aistear dtreo Atha Clíath (I)

2007-10-24T03:35:00.001-07:00

The night itself is still in lichtleerem deep sleep, as the humorless Quäken of Funkweckers me from gently rolling inexorably hurls dreams. Schlafkörnchen crumble from the corner of your eye when the eye reluctant to point Erna display crawls: 4:30 h. Much too soon, but at the right time. I Traumtrunken schlurfe coffee machine. Twice wake-up force is now needed. Müdigkeitsexorzismus accelerated in the bathroom of frischkaltem water. Ice fog dormant in the street canyons. Still dawning nothing. No breeze, hardly a sound. The city is frozen. The otherwise lively, well perfused traffic arteries reality empty, nearly orphaned.

Cheese sails into fine strips on the black bread slices than ride lunch. Mint tea steams from the thermos jug. The view wobbly around fritters are tired and planless beyond a goal. Gedankenverlorenes sip on coffee cups. The hot brew kleckert the sleepy throat down. The alarm beeps again. 5:30 h. Time, packed things to shoulder and through the sleeping town to the station to shuffle. A little more awake, the streets now. Club tents cars treideln yawning through the lanes. Your headlights stare pale, as if they Lider also like another two hours.

On the stairs to the platform stands C. and waiting. Barely awake than I, we shuffle them in the train. After some fares, we are still at the airport on time, learn that no 4U departure terminal but the indicator of German Wings is to learn that very few German service employees at the airport in Greek and speak up shortly before ten on board the Airbus A319 to Dublin. Quiet durchprickelt me the thrill of the unfamiliar with the start, but I fly only the third time in my life somewhere. Have to see it during the flight. A nearly tearing clouds carpet is among us. The Sehenswert Este seated in the row in front of us. A dignified old Mr. graying, with a wide Sensational Haargestrüpp, from the auricle hochwuchert lobule.

And so it is like a miracle in a grip bag, as a half hours later the plane into the ceiling feuchtweiße digs before the curtain opens and below us the Bay of Dublin. To see it from above so that the city of meandering walks Leopold Blooms, home of my great heroes like Joyce, O'Brien, Wilde and Beckett. Seeing and experiencing what you like to read and expansive. The deep blue sea curls. On Landarm of Howth crouches victories on the cold foaming surf to the coast. The green island, there is gray. The first tiny houses still grow per second, the fields and fields outside the town are of deep water-based mud überpfützt. Short breaks from the sun. The livestock on pastures casts shadow magnets. C.'s flight from his sleep and wakes up a little bit taken away.

The luggage flutscht heil to the rubber belt, we grab us a Aircoach in the city. C. is becoming paler, dopes, a small pack headache drugs in the small remainder of his water bottle. His face gleams like nurmehr diluted, shallow Kilkenny, the nose a touch of Cashel Blue cheese, the facial features fall into flabby collapses. Beads of sweat glisten on his forehead suddenly, breathing is difficult. Hurrying from concerned glances from my eyes to him. Only after a few minutes lost in my brain: Huch, agrees yes, yes, we go now left. Among the clouds grauknittrigen towers to bolt the typical semi-detached houses gone, green Mailbox columns, colorful whitewashed wooden panels, the first floors of shops and pubs hug. But it is a rather zerrupfter charm, with us the Suburban landing.

In O'Connell-Street sets us from the bus and is on almost together to further our luggage nozzles. Fortunately, our veto successful. Dublin, here we are. And while I map the best way to browse Hostel, remains C. unfortunately no other choice than to quickly towards the sanitation of a large fast-food chain to hurry. The stomach worried. In calm pace, with considerate breaks, we stroll to our hostel. Already clear: The first part of the Dublin-Explorations I will be on a fist.

2007-10-24T03:34:00.007-07:00

Alkohöllischer haze hound by the bull Kopp, as a volltrunkener Bollo suddenly gröhlte: "Boah nee, Shakira, which stinks but after Pommes ausse nose!"

Happy Birthday, Mr. W!

2007-10-24T03:34:00.005-07:00

The bartstoppeligste champions, the grand hiphophipste, charming Wit, the uncruisigste King of Cool, Holsten sympathy makers of the No. 1 network is just confused on the paper over, but today. Congratulations, MC. Get not sell, even if you could each sell everything.

Ar chúl

2007-10-24T03:34:00.003-07:00

The gravity bends my eyelids. Sufficient sleep is a bit ago. The aircraft has landed safely. The train has to Münster his goal after a little more than two hours also found. Daheim. And still a little tired. On the night, then, the same.

The next draft will be mine

2007-10-24T03:34:00.001-07:00

"I made myself at a dinner in October on the way home, after I gallons halbverdautes Porter on the floor of an economy in the Parnell Street had left behind, and I put myself under considerable difficulties to bed, where I, under the pretext of a cold three days remained. I was forced to my suit under the mattress to hide, because at least two of the five senses to kick, and he took a statement barg my illness, which has already put forward in opposition. " (Source: Flann O'Brien-Swimming-Two-Birds)

To 6:00 pm, the train, at ten o'clock, the pilot, around noon, I am in Dublin. My first time on the green island. Only for two days, but two days. I am looking forward, I am curious. On a short trip exciting! Green Island, I come.

From ocean giants, flaky phones and former Schiffshebewerken

2007-10-24T03:33:00.009-07:00

J. calls me. My phone has orange shed in the back-light glisten and a red Santa Claus hat. With Plüschbommel. It does not ring, it barks. Some surprised me. J's voice sounds like always.

"Can you come to the port and help me?"
"Clearly, what is going on?"
"I can not get the ocean steamer auszuparken. It is so close here and I want none of the other ships ram. "
"But I have also never been an ocean steamer out."
"Do nothing. The do you already. "
"Mnnhääähhhhmnjoa ... well now."

I schwinge me on my bike and race towards the quay. Like a verknotetes jumble of arms and crane ship's masts me the harbor skyline. In which city I am, nobody knows, I do not. I Abgehetzt curve between Container round towers, close to the dark schwabbernden floods. J. is here, but where is her giant ocean?

"Den but I prefer at home. But we desperately need these trucks drive to Bielefeld, there is bright green, fermented milk in it, and all truck drivers refuse to transport the stuff. One company will then buy the stuff. "
"We, I think, right?"
"We said Du."
"And why again? I am not MacGyver, no nuclear warheads from Nussnougatriegeln and tissues handicrafts and I have no truck driving license. "
"You already do."
"Hach."
"Comm"
"Well."

I climbed into the driver's cabin. Everything goes like clockwork. Huh, I can drive trucks. I easily control the ultratief droning Vierzigtonner by strudelaufwärtsführende roads, the guidelines in the middle goldglänzend shine. An electric guitar falls from the sky. I drive accidentally drüber. A long bomb laying at the roadside shrieks curses me behind. We happen to a former ship, which now serves as Bratwursthebewerk. And it beeps. Unentwegt. Lots. Faster. Bratwursthebe ... Bratwu ... Brat ... "Are you now totally?" , I asked, still half in a dream. Then, shortly after the curtain scans. I am awake. A strange night. A much seltsamerer dream. As someone once said, you need strange trip for drugs. You need sleep.

To note

2007-10-24T03:33:00.007-07:00

I am amazed. The following important information reached me just completely unsolicited email:

Media Information

+ + + German Championship on the Hirschrufer HUNTING & HUND + + +

+ + + Professionals from across Germany röhren to bet + + +

+ + + Deer röhren in dialect + + +

The breeding of deer is over. If you do in the near future
A tube supposed deer heard, it could be because
Again eagerly for the HUNTING & DOG (31 January to 5 February 2006) trained
.

(The detailed press information can be found here:
Http://www.westfalenhallen.de/presse4871.php)

2007-10-24T03:33:00.005-07:00

Is there a semantic context of black birds, with the Blackbird, Fink and Star in children's songs emerge, and the Kraftherunterregelung, for example Mofa-Motoren?

Trister storm in blue

2007-10-24T03:33:00.003-07:00

Is your faith a bird in darkness? Zerplittertes glass. Note one moment. Hustle strobe light scans an eternity. When the end lie? The windows burst. We are destroyed by you. Blue storms roll up. Schwing you out. Sanft küssender rain. Tastes like blue and gold. Lichtspritzer send you through the air. Rauskrachen, implied. Tears drop eyes watering the sidewalk. Let it fall, let it fall. Charcoal Blue floats in city petals. All believe that none of them is warned. Let it fall. Landslide. Genea.

(Available for: Elliott-Blue Storm)

Mr. Geist (time)

2007-10-24T03:33:00.001-07:00

Among white rabbits Mr. spirit of his life a tense relationship. Blame it bore the Lewis Carroll's Wonderland. More specifically: The white rabbit that breathtaking and timeless prior to the time verronnenen them and the remaining time hinterherrannte. Not infrequently, it happened that in the mind of Mr. Geist everything turned. In his pupils, on his nose and on his chin focused cheerfully silver watch on small numbers leaves. His few remaining hairs kräuselten at times and time way clockwise. Where were these oddities, nobody knew. In the belly mother had Mr. Geist doctors with ticking sounds strangely confused. And when he came to the world, astonished everyone. A small baby, not screamed, but rang with metallic shimmering slices and marches tickendem body. When his mother her child in the arm wanted to take, she fell into impotence. It was strange that all the numbers in and leaves him at various times indicated. He was the time, but the time was never the same and at all different places at the same time different. He was the co-prematurity and the posteriority, past, present and future. The time it trickled away, bubbled out of him, he arose and deflagrated to him, and renewed zerronn himself, turned with him and he with her. Even as a child, he was by all as "zeitgeist" teased. If he was drunk, he came even before, when he was a crazy hat with butter, jam and tea kaputtreparierte pocket. In contrast to the white rabbit, he always had too much time. At the same. "Make a journey with us," quipped his cronies happy in the school. Or: "Come already rung 'for us. Then is now pause. Or anxious that the clock go faster. " That was already the little Mr. Geist. And he would never learn. Recently, the temporal blessed him. Sad and lonely, he is the life and jumped from a window of the third floor.

The Rockers corner

2007-10-24T03:32:00.007-07:00

The view running the length and breadth of the wuselige turmoil, the brain buzzes under high voltage. Search, find, identify. What a huge fan but I used to the "Wimmelbildern." And how excited I was when I discovered here. Volume 74 names in a picture. Enjoy your search!

2007-10-24T03:32:00.005-07:00

It seems to me today, I have too much sleep cream eaten.

Kölle, we come (Part II)

2007-10-24T03:32:00.003-07:00

Somewhere behind Remscheid relax our faces. With the snow, it has largely ausgeflockt. The transport schliddert again faster progress, and in the vicinity of Leverkusen through us hoped, but still in time for the festival to start Palladium to come.

Clearly, we have calculated in the length of the queue in front of the entrance. Our snuggle jackets in the car trunk together, we have our quiet überplapperten cold, let us eisbetautem benieseln rain and remember once again how little cool but Pils helps itself up internally. But our place in the snake sausage approaching the front end. The Gods of rock already los lightning, it rumbles through the old stone walls, but at shortly after four and a half songs later, we, in the holy, warm lobby.

Gods of lightning

After a short stop at the merch swish we in the dark steel makers pillar belly of the concert hall. Surprisingly way it is not so much the music as the design of the Kopfbewuchses of us to start discussions:

With halbaufgeknöpftem shirt buzzes the singer and bass player with his hairstyle strubbeligen catalog on the stage and shows what he Volkshochschulkurs "Posing" has learned. The drummer shakes his hair for us and enters the evidence indicates that metal mesh but is not yet in danger of extinction, while his Guitarrero frisurell his old hero of Pantera appears to be shrill. The four Berliner schrubbeln solid down its program, including their small underground hits "Greetings from flashbackville" and "The rising." Full swing between Angel Franz Ferdinand, Hard-Fi, Mando Diao, Beatsteaks and just what else is applicable at the moment. Does a little like Reißgebretter, the whole thing. Visually and aurally. Are, but is not enthusiastic. The Koelsch, bar plörrt more than it into old, but I was thirsty and embark fix it down. Oh, concert already over? No matter. Holste still beer?

An unexpected but very friendly meeting during the renovation break with a hitherto unknown. The scent of Bock sausage, dumplings and potato salad schwabbert through the doors to the foyer. The tipsiness has now fuseligen its claws into the consciousness of the surprisingly solid represented Turbojugend gekrallt. Munter will lurched, stumbled to be thrashed, glasses zerdeppert, bawled, puking, however, still in steigerbarem degree.

Dredg

The light falls again. Dredg make their waiting. In anticipation me feel tall and curiosity - I was by their lax performance to the best coffee and cake time on the "Rhine culture" in the summer but rather disappointed. But how much better this band does in the dark! Verhalltes chirps the guitar, caught at square motif in shreds, bulges on. The bass pulses, soft swish their fingers on the fingerboard. The drummer, a gifted Poser before the Lord plays with rhythm and meter as Ronaldinho with the leather ball, and it also creates yet, simultaneously with the piano to play left and right weiterzugrooven. Through the interim muttering fusseligen guitarist in his beard, grimly shrugs. His guitar or the cables are eaten only infrequently and do what they should. And yet. Just the chorus is the loose addressed and the pathos volcano can be ignited and breaks soon. Melody lines of weltentrückter überglitzern beauty of the massive, hot bubbling lava reef-the rhythm section. A heißkaltes alternating between dreamy and lyrical bretternder Rockkelle sphere. Again and again equally funny how fascinating at the end: Dino, the drummer, grooving in ecstasy continues, while two roadies piece by piece dismantle his drums until nothing is left of them. Gran Dios, rousing, candidate for the best concert of the year.

The Soundtrack Of Our Lives

The first Scandinavians to grab the baton. Eingesprungen for the grandiose Billy Talent, schwummern The Soundtrack Of Our Lives their schrammeligen, melodieseligen Sechzigerjahrerock. The buschbärtige singer Ebbot Lundberg has another familienzeltgroßen caftan over his body thrown crowned and preaches with a long white scarf, and well balanced as einladenenden gestures as a priest of the increasingly numerous influx of Rock community. The guitar roasts, which Schlagzeugscheppert, the organ schwurbelt. A set of great fun and Sweden.

Life Of Agony

The hamburger is still hard in the stomach, because the delicate Brachialisten come to the stage. The breakthrough is riveted, they are back: Life Of Agony. With orkanischer brunt of the blow earwax from the ear passages and doubt from the awareness, whether it is still a chanterelle they should set after its reunification. Keith Caputo is still the flitzeflinke, small globalization with the large throat, which Haifischfrisur like an elastic rubber truncheon on the stage rushes. Ultratieftönende Grummelriffs with explosive crash, razor rhythms together. The handle bass, the guitar thunder, the inverted baseball cap trembles in the crash thunderstorms. A few phrases Keith has also memorized. We are the best audience of the tour, or even of all time. He loves us. In between, there's side for all skeptics, and the Runterladefetischisten Unkenden the guys nothing but greed for the merger nerneuten assistant. There's also hits. Actually all. The rattle and ears whistle, as Keith us with warm, adopted exhortation: "Stay positive!" We will.

Turbonegro

Every step now sticks. The cloakroom is closed because of overcrowding. At snack, there's the sausage only without bread. Schaler beer haze billowing through the foyer. Zertrampelte napkins, beer, brandy, cola, tilting überbappen the entire floor. Now, the big moment of uniformed. Several hundred denim jacket winners of the "FDTJ", the free Turbojugend have achieved their goal. Draw your heroes. The sailor caps are waved, the lipstick is warped and quickly followed up, the neighbors will be quick beer on the mat tilted, and together will bawled and rock that crackles rind. Turbonegro are in the house! With schwabbelnder Bierplautze, sweaty adhesive fatal black hair and make up around the eyes tells Henk in broken German Sweden in the breaks laden stories of Fotzen, tails, beer, Rock'n'Roll and St. Pauli. The mass bawls and fetch more beer. The fact that no one falls down, despite sturmflutendem alcohol level and roaring heat, is only the dense crowd. Together, rocked and gejohlt. Uououououooooooh! All the Hits Northern Lights in luggage and blare their prollig-selbstironischen reef rock of the community around the ears, at the end still persevered and weitergrölt minutes before they get, which is why they are here: "I got erection! Nothing for zartbesaitete minds. But major sports on the last Sunday of the weekend.

Mando Diao

For sweeping Hitreigen end to ensure the monsterhippen, gehypten kilometers Tommy Hilfiger-makers and advertising Schmockrocker of Mando Diao. Even at the sight of Bjorn sag Gustaf and the first girls screaming along too well oiled as folding the sponsor. The eardrum trembles before the frantic cheering. A few small spots twitch in the face at the sight of some of Gustaf hyperarroganter Posen, but the sweeping, and with melodieselige forward grooving Rock makes enormously good mood. Not quite as exciting as in track 22 next two years, but now, despite its enormous size, the band, at least not today enthusiasm missing. Scheppert and schwurbelt through verses and refrains, builds an unfamiliar phrases, a catchy chases the next. A stunning conclusion of a grand concert tags, we just before the encore. Finally, we have on the outward journey in accumulating enough already confessed. On the return trip we Gehügel kicking around Wuppertal extensive flee before us überfrierender moisture and ice bergaufbergab by comfortable and stress on Wuppertal home purr. Visions festival? Gladly!

2007-10-24T03:32:00.001-07:00

There are few hairbrushes, Mechthild hot. Again, this is not one of them. Not even in the vicinity.

Kölle, we come (Part I)

2007-10-24T03:31:00.009-07:00

And indeed!
Geglaubt we have not.
But we are prepared.
Even if we have forgotten just four times, the Mixtape time for the jam showcase of the shaft to bounce.

Abandoned electricity pylons, hundreds of thousands of jitter in the nighttime darkness of Munster country without electricity, heating and hot water. We had only itself from the news of them. It was also Muenster in over 30 centimeters eisigweißer Glitzerpracht rapt, the heating system is down, but only in the student dormitory evil camp road. The cars sneaked slither at a snail's pace on the slippery roads, the regional trains raised the white flag, and the buses were on Friday evening to the spirit. Wild stranger pfefferten people are snickering lockerflockige balls around the ears. In the middle of the night suddenly bappten edelweiss S (chn) eepferdchen to lantern poles, a großbusige, globular Snow Queen mice was enthroned in the castle garden. A rabbits nibbled, shivering from cold, on the carrot dropped a rotting snowman.

Almost a madness in such weather to the "Visions Anniversary Festival" to go to Cologne, right? The question drills, but the musical passion prevail. Finally, we have tickets. The money can be forfeited, the concerts miss? Nix there. Especially: Well, on Sunday, it seems half the wild. Call in Cologne: "Noo, everything here is free." Look out the window: excellent roads passable. So we drive. A small, Turquoise Polo without Wumms under the hood but with winter tires makes on the way.

And indeed!
Geglaubt we have not.
But we are prepared.
Even if we have forgotten just four times, the Mixtape time for the jam showcase of the shaft to bounce.

On the radio Dumplings freezing Munster countries Ochtrup moppern and opportunistic on the prime minister the power not to turn back, but suddenly with big gestures in their Winzstadt emerges, in which he otherwise would never driven. No electricity, nothing warm, clattering generators, pea soup in gyms, tuckernde THW-Diesel with Megafonen on the roof, in order to inform the public. But now all move closer together. Now at last the dam show. Several kilometers Schneegestöberstau thanks chaotic weather in Wuppertal, which we are slowly approaching. Corbin nonsense! This is nothing! And only then, as far as it is not more!

And indeed!
Geglaubt we have not.
But we are prepared.
Even if we have forgotten just four times, the Mixtape time for the jam showcase of the shaft to bounce.

Suddenly flockt it. Always wild. Ice storm gusts hurl smooth, icy masses down. The resting place for the rights sinks in white Aufgetürm. We überschlittern the next hill. As is already the dam. Rien ne va plus. Disembarking, snowball battle. If we are stuck, we have double socks, gloves, be the second sweater, woolen, charcoal, ne box wine, hot mint tea and sugar caramels. What can happen to us?

It matscht when changing lanes. The Tin wobbly snow avalanche in slow motion through the curve. We happen "Schloss castle." Again and again a Schmunzler worth. Jochen tickles Britta. Lieber is not too long. Finally she. Steffis Hanuta crumbs. Nervous glances at the clock. Yet 20 kilometers. Another hour until the concert begins. What are we here in the snow at Remscheid? Thus, the nix. Regardless, already. We take what comes. The crow, decemberists Mixtape. Then the armored Korso again faster. We will ride on, we come Koelle, and apparently is not even too late.

(Part II follows)

That there's still no!

2007-10-24T03:31:00.007-07:00

How exactly is astonished blocks, is still not sufficiently researched. But yesterday, I just came from the Kopfkratzen difficult. So far, one of the seemingly irreversible for me wisdom like "The earth is not a target", "Man has only two ears," or "cars in England on the right track, are ghost rider" the zuckersüße conviction "to make caramels from brown sugar, it makes Sahnekaramellbonbons from brown sugar and cream. " As I take my mini-pack "Werther", which is now no longer "real" but "original", from the pocket brings, I found I had when purchasing stock and the impossible purchased sugar-free caramels. There are things that it really does not exist. This is not new, but always surprising. A little bit is my world collapsed yesterday. But only a little.

2007-10-24T03:31:00.005-07:00

Press thumb. The chaos in my adopted country has largely laid. And soon we want to go. After Cologne. The Vision-Anniversary Festival watch. Dredg, Mando Diao, Life of Agony, The Soundtrack of Our Lives, Turbonegro and Gods of lightning and watch live mitrocken properly. We can only hope that we quickly and safely through. Precaution is now cheerfully steaming, hot mint tea in cans filled thermos, a second pair of socks and a thick woolen packed. Do not give in bed. No shivering in snowy jam columns. Frustriertes swearing, because nothing more. Be and we remain strained. I hope everything goes well.

Napoleon solo

2007-10-24T03:31:00.003-07:00

Cut and paste. Hattet you verperlten established on the impotence of New Orleans? And a touch of tension, when the phone rings. This is forever. A touch of walking distance between the Satzbaufehler from yellow paved road in Austin. This is forever. From this ausgehauchten Texas-breathing, not a sign of relief, because you know this: This is forever!

The twenty third March shooed in the wind, the music out. When you first get the best out of us can: it is that it's forever! Power no difference. In your letter alphabet missing. Seventeen, embalmed, and coffins are lowered into the weather, a penetrating, friskier rain.

Zupf busted harp on this, we were taken by the chords, set their hearts. Yes, this is forever.

(At freely after the drive: Napoleon solo)