die Schlupfe doing something else
finally

anyone a literary agent out there_  ¶ 12:54 PM 0 Comments

  cherzando in any attempt the length has its duration in the attention span what one is running off the mouth with why is it easier to string the symbol together over the sound making sense in the speech as though talking to oneself was more sinful senseful meaningful a different play as though there was not an inner voice now creating an emphasis and dictating the punctuation as it flows on the page as though there was not a preconceived over ride of punctuation so as to have the reader searching grasping working through to put their own in and find a sense within the mess to encourage them to read out loud as if in roman times as though the endings themselves were counterpoints and punctuation enough but when one runs out of breath or has sense enough to churn over a thought to strike a remark or pause then so be it but to rattle on into the sound of a runaway train is in itself a thought provoking event a sound system opens up and perhaps the illiterate understand nevertheless perhaps the spoken form of communication has more than the formalised structures and patterns that one takes with vocabulary and grammar that inbetween and overlieing all the sophistication supposedly grant upon our grunts and groans that there is a semblance an invocation of the thing at hand the presence of the sensation of being in a world of sharing the perception and being able to feel with in the same instant undergoing not just similar events and states but the same as though occupying the same body the body is not restrained by a skin being held together but the skin is merely yet another sensual component not a border grenze a line between things to delineate a structure from another and is not evdn located on the outside of the body rather just at the a distance from the next component as the retina is held from the cones and rods  ¶ 1:09 PM 0 Comments

  touchy little relink to the dark endeavours of late night early morning soul searching ink spots crawling over canvas taking shapes shadow play mind tricks a film in the making on the back of the retinas i need large rooms filled with paper and squirt guns water and ink plenty of time a lazing about sleeping through the process just to wake once more intoxicated and set to the task once more brief sleeping interludes of vision i don't sleep i dream seldom working without the fleeting moment to know once more those wasted moments to feel the inconsequential existence crushing down on go on get to it engrave your name into the stone see how long one can last the digital memory is nothing like the oral one a good power shortage and everything is forgotten who are we remembering oh yeh the miracle workers the ones with the stories so big so as to be unbelievable they are the stories we keep telling ourselves because we want to believe them the others are just convincing easily acceptable into the daily walkabout lives of bread making and ice cream eating i left them all by the wayside did i want to fuck them maybe in the end when the opportunity was no longer there but at the time i was getting something else altogether the fringe of sexuality through conversation an excitement in play with words that could have bee leading anywhere simple propagation is not exciting enough for the body these days having given up on the mission putting aside lineage of storytelling passing through a blood generation no the world belongs to someone else now they will not be able to write or read so i will have to paint pictures and set a landscape to a tune that can be hummed beaten and whistled so little has changed between us but it is always the other that reinforces image having never been close but growing up and seeing the change of direction there will be something remaining an identifying mark no less that is the recognition they still see a little of themselves within the creation i have not wiped out completely my forefathers will to live beyond themselves in future generations in progeny here comes the end of that here comes the generations that will turn against their own dna they will turn against their own fleshy analogue existence in favour of something with definition a value or without value even without value is valuable signifying a lack simply with or without categories running through the ages and processed simultaneously without measurement or access to time little more than something operating in the background a sky upon which to remark the weather clouds or clear stars or sun  ¶ 12:55 PM 0 Comments

  die Darstellung Warszawa is about the future and Krakow the past. We are always moving forward. We are listening to music that does not yet exist. We are riding motorcycles that are not yet built. We are the act that brings forth an idea. We are always moving and therefore misunderstood. We are ungraspable. We are what we are not. We are this and that but not. We are the ever changing links between people, perception and performance. We are consume, not the material nor the ash and not even the flame, but the sensation only to be felt in change. Never resting we cannot be acclimatised to. For we are constant variation producing constant stimulation without desensitisation. Unlike the burning bush that burns but is not consumed we are consumed again and again ever as something else and are therefore not burned. We are the new - destroying ourselves to build again. We are the old - restoring and rebuilding. To realise nothing in becoming otherwise than and again. Without a view onto self nor onto the past only moving to what comes next. Never here, always on the way there. Without pause at the destination already on the way. Always departing away from. Nothing to arrive at. Leaving a wake of tails pursuing explorations at their points of departure where they got off. Pushing a new seriousness never understanding the question. Removing all sense of satisfaction. Leave the phone ringing. No answer. An upward moving vantage burning cold menace. A jostle from foot to foot. Demanding more from conditions, body, obstacle, upwards to stars out of orbit not facing West, into the sunset, nor East, expecting sunrise, but for the stars themselves. To emit light. To be a star-rise and star-set. To illuminate a planet. To illuminate planets. To light up the sky. To go beyond imagination explanation and condition as an irrevocable movement of universe. To be felt as expectation and surprise. The first Spring warmth, prickle bringing chill in Winter breeze. Moving alike across land and seas. Expanse cringes underneath a glance always hungry without eyes enough to take in what can be consumed. Always close to an end. A constant striving parabolic zero curving into infinite exactitude tossing away the relevance of numbers by affirming their conceptual existence. We assert our existence over the conceptual, lasting in a moment as real as they last forever dependant upon our moment. Our movement. Our act. Without understanding. Without attitude.  ¶ 4:46 AM 0 Comments

  grau wandering around for pommes, frittes, fries, or chips whatever can the poles being doing with potato hiding the basic necessities underground the typical farmer culture going back to australia i hear one is up to nothing good in the old country common misconceptions of the nothing new and a distaste for any kind of change whatever happened to progressive thinking has the world turned just another notch parents have never understood the ego tripping privilege of the new breed the dinosaur will eventually be buried under its own money stockpiling wealth on the second floor for the moment i will crouch back into a studio bunker on the other side of the river waiting for the bridge to collapse a lack of resources to rebuild a lack of imagination to reuse tunnelling the system into oblivion now is a good day to die the end of everything and the beginning of nothing  ¶ 4:45 AM 0 Comments

  . long winded death drive
sentencing a winter homelessness
spikey high heels  ¶ 9:42 PM 0 Comments

  wilst du mehr lernen father's heart operation
brother's motorcycle accident
mother's eye operation and grandfather dies

/grandfather's funeral the erzahler arrives/

brother's back operation
discovery of sister-in-law's adultery
sister-in-law's suicide
sister-in-law's funeral coincides with realisation of having kicked meth addiction
father's death


father:
heart attack, quits smoking
obesity problems, was active as a young man now inactive and sugar rich irregular meals
finger cut off retirement from active work
as a kid fell into a diary churner which crippled his leg for life
had always been a consistent borderline heavy drinker since youth


grandfather:
grows orchids
tinkers with cars, motorcycles
picks up guitar in mid life and begins a regular corner career
heavy drinker and smoker
abusive
emphysema
throat cancer


mother:
glaucoma
depression
kidney problem, not cleaning the blood properly


brother:
born with weak knees
suffers from slipping spinal discs from a motorcycle incident
having difficulty with the production of children

sister-in-law:
manic depressive
having difficulty with the production of children
seeks out another lover
mother was a junkie, now dead
was made to eat own shit as child locked in a laundry naked
commits suicide in a car


Erzähler:
adopted out
city sider
outsider peering from alternative view into the mainstream desire
meth addiction
vegan health punk kick leaving the frail gaunt look, developed from fading out hippies who lost their minds in acid dementia living on an animal
males contact for help to get off meth and garner money
talks to each character for money and help but gets only the backstory to his now dead grandfather
the stress of current family dramas replaces the meth as an addictive stimulant  ¶ 11:18 PM 0 Comments

  fertig onto the next inbetween time interactive project something to keep me out of trouble the hand busy and the eyes on the road a going nowhere waiting on everyone else excursion takes a long time for words to have any fluidity about them a long and slow melting process too much too fast and they crumble into dust in the fingers in a slight breeze

ausdrucken
out into the world and far far away have you looked in your mailbox today a reminder to always do the work yourself miscommunication exists on the simplest of levels always having to deal with someone else

getting the bad press out for everyone to hear but what to do when one is already in the building but move out those large nuggets rely on the ignorance of the masses the next thing to do is make the information an overload a disinformation so easy to clog up the channels in which the use the ability to access and create is so easy the mixture so potent to then wipe out the account with a larger presence with a flood a pushing down into the gutters into the over flow stormwater drains out into the ocean our shit flows

schlechtes Gedächtnis
another tell tale sign another working away at a shit frenzy we are getting to know each other better day by day but in the big events no one can hide all is laid open and bare distraction at the door bring all the energy back into an enclosed space to find someone else something else to do  ¶ 7:11 AM 0 Comments