Prioritäten setzen?! No problem wallah.

Und was würdest du tun, wenn du nur noch einen Tag zu leben hättest? Ich würde ein Buch schreiben. Jawohl das würde ich! Einfach, weil ich genug gelesen hätte, genug erfahren, erlebt, gesehen und probiert. Und das, obwohl ich mit meinen 25 Jahren genauso alt wäre wie alle anderen 25-Jährigen und ein genauso verwöhntes bafögbeziehendes Wohlstandskind ohne wahre Bildung wäre. Ich hätte zwar immernoch keine Ahnung von Literaturgeschichte, geschweige denn von Geschichte, bis auf ein paar Schlachten aus der islamischen Frühzeit, über die ich detailreich und völlig emotionslos (so wie es der trockene Geschichtsunterricht an Berliner Universitäten gebietet) berichten könnte. Meine Nächte hätte ich genauso sinnerfüllt in teuren Plagiaten der 20er Jahre Kneipen verbracht wie alle anderen Millennials, hätte mir genauso viel auf meine hoch-intellektuellen, ausdauernden Hipster Diskussionen eingebildet und genauso viel Rotwein aus Eimern gesoffen. All das wäre jedoch völlig bedeutungslos, denn ich würde ja einfach die Wut aus mir herausschreiben, die mir seit meiner Geburt den Magen verätzt. Ich würde einen Schrei schreiben, so laut dass Pierre Vogel im selben Moment von seiner selbstgebauten Pappkanzel in die düstere Finsternis Kölscher Aufklärung stürzen würde. Und mit ihm eine ganze Generation verzweifelter Pro- und Antisarazenen. Wegschreien würde ich sie! Durch stinkenden Psalmendunst würde er fallen, der aufsteigt aus minaretthohen Giftkelchen entlang von fratzenbemalten Höhlenwänden voll tollwütiger Großayatollahs mit geflochtenen Bärten aus den gespaltenen Zungen erfrorener Exegeten. Sanft und zufrieden würde er dann von seinen Engels-Flügeln aus vergilbten Koranseiten durch die behagliche Dunkelheit gottgewollter Unmündigkeit getragen, gefolgt von seinen hunderten flügellosen Schafen, um schließlich alle stoned vom inhalierten Nebel der Heuchelei in Reih und Glied vom erbarmungslosen Felsen der Vernunft aufgespießt ins nicht existente Jenseits zu verschwinden. Erscheint dem Leser das konstruiert? Nun, ich würde in Anbetracht der Kürze meiner verbleibenden Zeit wohl nicht dazu kommen einen ausgefeilten Stil zu entwickeln, geschweige denn auf Inhalt und Form zu achten wie es mich fünf Jahre strengwissenschaftlichen Schreibens gelehrt haben sollten. Ein Affront gegen die waltende Perfektionsismuswut all jener genialen Schriftsteller, die ich ja ohnehin nicht kenne.

Die Geschichte beginnt.

...

MOONBOOTICA: MEN OF THE FUTURE von Moonbootique RecordsWas darf ich erwarten oder darf ich nicht?
Bist du noch du oder bist du schon ich?
Wie viel darf ich wünschen ohne dich zu ändern
wie viel soll ich ändern um dir zu gefallen?

Liebe, Freundschaft und Lüge

Was ist Liebe?
OTRS (Sample) von kLaRkOmM- productions

Liebe ist,

was Du nicht ausdrücken kannst,

wenn Du über sie schreibst.

Wie ist Freundschaft?

Freundschaft ist ehrlich.

Weil Du selbst wenn du es willst

Deine geheimsten Gedanken

Nicht vor ihm verstecken kannst.

Und neidlos.

Weil Du Dich für ihn freust

Wie für dich selbst.

Und treu.

Weil Du weißt, er denkt wie Du.

Und grenzenlos.

Weil Du alles mit ihm teilen willst.

Und fröhlich.

Weil du ihm immer

Ein Lächeln aufs Gesicht zaubern kannst.

Und robust.

Weil sie auch in schweren Zeiten hält.

Und verantwortungsvoll.

Weil ein Teil von Dir immer in ihm bleibt

Und geliebt werden will.

Freundschaft ist ewig.

Weil kein Gift auf der Welt

Sie vernichten kann.

Aber was ist Lüge?

Warum lügst Du?

Ist die Wahrheit Dir nicht hart genug?

Willst Du noch mehr Blut sehen,

Sollen noch mehr Tränen fließen?

Warum belügst du Dich und mich?

Die Lüge ist der leichteste Weg,

Der Wahrheit zu entfliehen.

Denn die Wahrheit kann so unheimlich grausam sein!

Ja, sie kann Deine tiefsten Gefühle vernichten!

Deine prächtigsten Luftschlösser verwüsten!

Deine vergrabensten Ängste zum Leben erwecken!

Sie kann Dich vor das Oberste Gericht stellen

Und sie selbst wird Dein gnadenloser Richter sein

Der Dein unreifes Herz mit seinem Urteil durchbohrt!

Sie selbst kann es sein

Die Dich zur Guillotine führt

Und dieselbe wird den Hebel ziehen!

Sie kann so wütend werden

Sie frisst Dich beim lebendigen Leibe

Und sie lässt Dir nicht mal Deine Seele

Wie der Hund dem Fleisch nicht die Knochen lässt!

Sie kann ihre diamantscharfen Zähne

Wild in Dein verlogenes Fleisch rammen

Und sie kaut wütend bis zum letzten Biss

Selbst wenn ihr Deine wermutsbitteren Lügen

Noch so sehr den Rachen verätzen!

Sie ist so wahrhaftig wie Du falsch bist

Und sie kämpft unerbittert gegen die Lüge in Dir.

Ja, so grausam ist die Wahrheit!

Doch die Lüge Sie ist noch viel grausamer!

Denn sie ist so feige und falsch wie eine Schlange!

Die Lüge ist mal eine singende Nixe

Die Dein Gemüt mit ihren himmlischen Melodien betört

Mal ein stürzender Fluss

Der Dich eilig in seine Strömung zieht

Und Dich zwischen spitzen Felsen

Zischend in den Abgrund reißt!

Mal ist sie ein spielendes Kind

Das dir zart ins Ohr flüstert:

Es ist doch schöner so für Dich.

Mal ein wildgewordener Soldat

Der Dir seine schießende Waffe an die Schläfe presst!

Die Lüge verspricht Dir

Ein Leben auf sachtwogenden Wellen

Ohne Sturm und ohne Sonne.

Im ewig funkelnden Mondenschein

Dahin zu treiben auf weiter See

Ohne Ziel und ohne Sorgen.

In immer währender sternklarer Nacht

Arm in Arm zu liegen

Ohne Erinnerungen ans Gestern

Und ohne Ängste vor dem Morgen.

In süßlichem Duft umherschwimmenden Geblüts

Den Kummer und die vergangene Freude

Zu vergessen

Und nie wieder aufzuwachen...

Ja, die Wahrheit ist grausam und die Lüge

Sie gleicht manchmal einer zarten Blume,

Der Du so nah bist, dass du meinst

Sie gleich berühren zu können.

Doch wehe dem, der fragt:

Wo ist sie?

Wenn du statt zartem Blütenkleid plötzlich

Nur moderigen Dunst zwischen den Fingern spürst.

Dann sollst Du das bittere Ende eines Lügners erfahren!

Denn die Blume

Sie ist nur Illusion deiner leidenschaftslosen Welt

Und alles, was Du glaubst, real zu sein

Ist doch nur Schein

Ist es auf einer Lüge Boden gebaut.

Und dann bist Du allein.

Denn Du kannst Deiner Blume

Nicht einmal beim Sterben zusehen.

Existiert haben nur Du und Deine Angst

Die Grausamkeit der Wahrheit zu erfahren!

Doch welche Qual fügst du Deinem vermeindlich Geliebten zu, wenn Du nicht die Wahrheit sprichst! Und wütend machst du den, der um der Wahrheit willen und für Dich die Wahrheit sagte! Und der Dir sein Herz schenkte, obwohl Du es warst, der von Liebe sprach...

Ode an das Leben

Kebab Connektion feat Cloud Tissa von [dunkelbunt]Das Leben ist wie eine Seifenblase.
Kaum schimmert es prächtig in allen Farben,
fliegt leicht dahin als wäre es schwerelos
da ist es auch schon zerplatzt.
Und es bleibt nichts außer dem,
was auch vorher schon war.
Sie sind alle Eingesperrte in ihrer Seifenblase.
Gefangene, die sich sicher wägen und nicht ahnen,
wie gefährdet sie sind.
Sie können nicht durch die Seifenblase blicken,
wenngleich sie auch durchsichtig ist.
Denn sie sitzen stets mit dem Rücken zu der Seite,
die nicht von der Sonne geblendet wird.
Einer hat es wohl einmal gewagt, sich umzudrehen.
Er wollte als Erster sehen,
worauf er seinen eigenen Schatten warf.
Daraufhin ist seine Seifenblase geplatzt
und man hat nie wieder von ihm gehört.
Drinnen bauen sie sich Schlösser aus Luft
und schmücken sie eifrig mit gold-schimmerndem Schaum.
Und sie nennen es Reichtum.
Sie bauen Leitern an den dünnen Wänden
bis sie der Sonne so nah sind, dass sie blind werden.
Und sie nennen es Wissenschaft.
Sie denken und erfinden spitze Pfeile,
mit denen sie jene Wände durchschießen können.
Und sie nennen es Fortschritt.
Und sie benutzen diese Pfeile
und zielen auf alles was sie nicht verstehen.
Und sie nennen es Gerechtigkeit.
Sie pflücken aus ihrem Himmel weitere Seifenblasen
und ziehen sich mühsam daran empor.
Und sie nennen es Liebe.
Sie glauben auf der Suche nach der Wahrheit
fest an die Lüge.
Und sie nennen es Lebenssinn.
Und eines Tages hören sie auf,
den Dingen einen Namen zu geben.
Und sie erklären sich gegenseitig für verrückt.
Und dann flehen sie,
Er möge sich ihnen doch endlich zeigen!
Und wenn Er sich zeigt,
ist keines der Dinge mehr da.
Und es bleibt nichts,
außer dem was auch vorher schon war.

Dear Mr. God, it's Hannah

We praise You as if You were a phenomenon outside our universe and outside our imagination. And we always keep life after death at the back of our mind because it seems so decisive for us. But what is decisive?
We always search You and sometimes we believe that You answer our request.
But when will we find You?
How do we know that creature and creator are not one and the same?
When will we learn to praise the world around us and every leaf that we find on the ground?
And to live in dignity the way we define it for the divine spirit can be found in ourselves. Because weren't it You who created us too? Why don’t we listen to the melody of Your words that float peacefully in the river nearby with the same passion and emotion that we feel when we now listen to Sunday’s prayer? And why don’t we protect this delightful planet with the same enthusiasm and strength with which we’re now desperately clutching our prayer rug? Why do we sell our reason a book that instils in us our own wisdoms, but with wrong labels?
And why do we stick to details before we search the essence?
__________________________________________________________________________________

And some more questions that sometimes pop up in my mind…

Why are there so many religions if there’s only You?
Why didn’t You give us enough reason to figure out what is truth and what is fake?
Why don't You manage to make us all believe in You?
Why do some people believe so easily?

Is a dishonest belief better than not to believe in You?
Why isn’t it enough to believe in “something” instead of “everything”?
Why are religious people often so strange and superstitious?
Why does the fact of calling myself a Muslim or a Christian or a Jew tells my people about my character?
- Wasn‘t I born without a religious belief?

Why did You create my hands if I’m not allowed to touch?
Why did You create my hair if You wanted me to cover it?
Why did You create sexual desire if it’s something I have to suppress?
- Didn’t You know that prohibitions breed curiosity?
Why did You create love if I must not love the one I want?
Why do my people love to tell me that the answer to all these questions is “because life is a big test”?

Why do so many feel superior due to their religion?
Why do people reduce religion to its rules and prohibitions?
Why do I have to be afraid in order to accept the rules apparently imposed on me by a divine force?
Why do I have to be threatened first?

Why do You allow a man to hit me if I’m worth as much as he?
What is the difference between marriage and the wish to own the other person?
Why shouldn‘t people call an adopted child theirs and save one more life instead of giving birth to another?

Why don't You remove my doubts and answer my questions if my belief wasn’t enough for You?

Do You love me?

Yours sincerely,
Hannah

Sunday, 3rd June

Can you imagine being without me? (I heard myself say) And then: I feel I'm spending too much energy on struggling for our relationship. I'm not living it - how should I? You're thousands of distances away from me. (Put yourself together!)
You stay calm - as always. (I cry now.)
We should first - (your usual reaction) - and then we'll decide on what to do.
You're right, actually.
And then you say what you've said for a fuckin hundred of times and still you don't seem to understand I'm not listening any more.

I stand by and I see it all decline and I don't know what to do. I promised to stay with you for ever and so I must go on walking with you- behind you? - but I can't move. I stand still, empty mind, and I want to tell you that it's over. Right now, right here in this ugly cinema in front of everyone watching this silly English comedian.

At the same night you tell me you want me to become your "wife" - it's been one of the happiest days in your lifetime - (I want to say: What day are you talking about?) - but sorrow and greenness are choking me - (You wouldn't know why I'm asking) - your eyes full of expectation you try to read my mind - (And I'd wish you'd know what it tried to tell you) - and I say - You got a piece of popcorn on your nose and it looks damn foolish - and I remove it and you laugh.

On Joy and Sorrow by Khalil Gibran

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.


this is in my opinion one of the most impressive wisdoms in the Prophet.

My undefined happiness

I believe that I can only appreciate true - pure- friendship by having wrong friends.

True friendship means happiness to me. There doesn't have to be any "Hektor" going on a journey in order to bear me out. I only believe in this one happiness. Because this is love at the same time - true friendship is love. Strong and intensive love. And don't tell me you're able to distinguish as I saw them merging. And there doesn't have to be any book about love teaching me that love is more for love is anything but a profound poem.
I don't believe what I'm about to write, but if I could I would say I belong to the happiest people on earth. Perhaps I'm writing this because I sometimes feel the opposite, but oddly enough the opposite exists only in a part of me - which appears so undefinably... feels unpredictable... gets me scared...
Melancholy is the biggest enemy of happiness. Painting the world in dark colours it appears to be tangible, close but the way that you can't see what you're longing for.
I had this feeling once in a blue moon. Probably thanks to my pipe dreams that turn everything - even the dark paintings - into a romantic scenario where problems occur on purpose in order to get solved by.. me - princess. I feel so graceful, beloved, wooed and missed, though that's how I trick myself and I realize it all.
Twice I dreamed to be imprisoned, from where I could never escape. Big and cold, nobody helps, it's all surrounded by water. One jump could be fatal, because it is winter and we're in ... Germany.
...I could have been influenced by One flew over the kookoo's nest - no film has ever impressed and scared me so much before, but this is long ago and the dream goes hand in hand with my struggling emotion.
Thinking about tomorrow I should think of Wednesday or Thursday because it's Tuesday night. But there is no Thursday-morning. There is only breaking-up... final exams... get away from here. Yearning - if ever it extravagates- makes you blue just as melancholy. Creeping in it nestles to your body expanding into your soul and finally staying there. You think you can't fight it for its pleasantly monotone purring melody has driven away everything that used to be real.
...because yearning is like a comfortable pillow on which you'll become prosperous and fat...

What if I had only one day left to live?
I'd fall into a deep depression or maybe I'd swamp it out smashing all my clocks. I'd definetely think, reflect, I would wonder what I've actually done during my life time, everything and nothing at the same time - heartfelt - structureless, though. Much too complicated, you pondered much and experienced little. I'm not contemporary, I may have been born sooner or I should have been born elsewhere. Anywhere, but not here.
There is no right or wrong; right is what you make out of it.
Is that really true?
Isn't it possible that I'd be better off in a different country?
Isn't there a spark of truth on this eternal yearning for something that cannot be defined by our reason?
Does yearning show the way or only the unreachable?
Does it fool my imagination? Does it lead me astray?
Why do I long for so much?

Now I gratefully decline - playing princess - since later on she'll be getting everything she deserved, every opportunity she missed on purpose and even more, profound happiness.
I can't make up my mind.. some moments are impossible to experience when you're happy and yearning reminds you that they will pass. Just as all the others. Or is true happiness independent of the moment?

God only is independent of the moment.
It's late and I better go to sleep.

Cinderella von MENIAK [new album out NOW!!!]

Confusion

What keeps you grounded?
Loving your friends is like having the Joy.

What gives you cover?
Thus we're in eternal search of
Until we will find
The right religion
For the eternal commitment.

What offers you fulfilment?
To know that luck can create jobs
Owning money
Without vocation
Is emptiness.

What gives you love?
In black is he
Who lost it
Lonely
Who never finds it
But he who feels it
Is the One
And he who felt it
Knows the feeling of miracles.

What should we aspire to?
Where do we go?
What's life for?
Where's the sense?

a translation of a german poem of a friend of mine
[wow school still sometimes allows creativity...]

Deine Stimme

Ich war nicht allein an diesem Tag
und ich dachte, dich zu kennen
wie Träume täuschen
wie man es vermag
die Sehnsucht beim Namen zu nennen.

Ich saß nebenan
Du warst noch weit
Ich spürte keinen Verdacht.
Als nur deine Stimme die Hürden der Zeit
mit einem Mal vergänglich macht.

Ich tanze für dich durch den Schnee
es fehlt das Gefühl
ist es weit
Ich glaube an eine Odyssee,
denn Wege kreuzen unsere Zeit.

Meine Neugier ist größer als meine Weisheit,
doch meine Begleiterin, die Vorsicht, versperrt mir die Sicht.
Kenn ich die Lüge, so schätz ich die Wahrheit.
Und warum geht es andersrum nicht?

Deine Augen kann ich nicht lesen
Ich höre viel mehr als ich seh
Es ist wie ein unbekanntes Wesen,
das den Weg verdunkelt, den ich geh.

Ich glaube an dich
und ich glaube an mehr
Ich möchte irgendwann ins Licht.
Wo ist deine Stimme, die mich fragt
Warum grübelst du so sehr
und warum entscheidest Du dich nicht...

A Dream - A Vow

My dad wants me to show him my feet. He takes them, carefully but determinedly, holds them in his hands. He demands a vow from me, it's about my pride. He sees me crossing my feet and turns away. It seems for ever...




My very favorite (Picasso) artwork

Nohiboka

There's someone out there I love and he doesn't know...

There's someone somewhere who loves me but it's only like.
There's someone with me I like so much but it's too close.
There's someone next to me who is perfect but it was too fast.
There are some around me inviting me but they're not there when I need them.

And there's someone out there I love but he doesn't know...

He's like my brother, my father and my dream in one.
He feels the way I feel, but he can express.
He thinks the way I think, but he finds a solution.
He believes the way I do, but he is strong.
And he lives what I dream.

When I think of him I start crying, not because I'm sad, but because I'm so scared he could cry in that moment, too.
When I think of him I feel so ashamed that I'm not as good as he is.

And I wonder how God could create someone whose mistakes are even so sweet that you'd bargain them.
And whose words are so wise that they float like pure gold in your veins.
Whose eyes observe you so truly, you feel they'd go blind if they ever lied; and whose smile is so honest and warm that it could never be spoiled or darkened.

There are secrets in him so deep, I could never understand their meanings.
And questions in him that I'm dying to find their answers.
I feel so small and meaningless when he tells me that I mean much to him.
And I cannot stop imagining lying in his arms.

Nohiboka, you know what I mean.
You might call me too prim...
and what if I am?
And what if I'm not royal enough for you?

Then I don't wake up for a long time and the days just pass
because no one is there to hold them back. To hold me.

I have to make a decision and I can't decide.
I can't ask anyone for help because anyone is part of the decision.
I chose intricate methods that prevented me from dealing with the actual subject
and now
I start realizing.

Pick Up The Shade

There is always someone or something not getting enough light. When the shade is the cause of a man being in the dark we would say it’s not our fault, it’s the sun as a natural flash point.
What seems unattainable at first blush accounts for this man’s life.
Pick up the shade because light is essential!

Circuitous

I always try not to hurt anyone.
Perhaps some would call it addiction to harmony...
...Why do I have to hurt someone who loves me?
...Why can't love be equipollent on both sides??
...And why can't anyone just give me a simple answer to this???

Any Catch

There are those exigous but vital moments that arrive unheraldedly.
When someone understands me without saying a word.

Your Not Alone

There is no one so demented that he cannot find someone even more demented who understands him.
Friedrich Nietzsche

I'm thankful to say it's true.

Another abortive attempt

I can endure most kind of sorrow... may it be to lose someone or simply get disappointed owing to a certain event. I don't believe time does heal any pain but it makes us forget. Unfortunately evil sorrow seems to emanate not from any incident but only from feelings. This is driving me to despair, not knowing for what reason I feel so restless... there is just an immense emptiness, and it ends as unexpected as it has begun. Yeah, it should be only a phase but it's been even more than that for a long time...

Wrong Face

To me one of the worst mistakes a person can do is adapting their opinion depending on whom to talk to.
I don't mean trifles but principles that change every minute.
This causes nothing but trouble. You will never be sure what is truth and what a fake.

My personal proof that the emotional network does exist...

It's amazing how one single person is able to change a whole life.
That's nothing new, I know.
But living it my own is so new...

The Travel Bug...

...is a disease.
Standing on a wide field and breathing the cold fragrance of nature. The stormy sea keeping up and destroying lives. The distance between the evening star and us. The sunset tavern surrounded by dry pines.
Loud chirping.
I experienced that most people don't even know its meaning. This peculiar feeling of belonging anywhere else. Just anywhere, not at a particular place. I remember the moment when I woke up in a gloomy room. Insignificant but there was this special smell in the air that reminded me of a place I had never been. It is hard to desribe and easy-understandable for someone who senses this kind of tension that is somewhat problematic to interpret. I cannot be sure myself if I got it right. It's no desire for extending vacation, it's a longing for freedom.

Close Match

Last year I was part of those worst detractors on our best results-awarded students.
I was proud to say I am envious.
This year I am part again but part of our best results-awarded students. I can't feel pride... should this be a lesson?

The Wrong Definition

Who prescribes what reality means...
The wrong definition is to believe we were the centre of the world.

Me & Myself

I am egoistic, naïve and self-centred.
I notice the grief around me and I put up with it.
I don't fight my enemies.
I avoid any conflicts
not due to my distinctive spiritualism
but to my lethargy.

The End of a Thought

I thought trying to find answers to the problems of others means altruism.
Now I know that it's only one out of a thousands policies to flee from my own problems...

A Tiny Fun in a Big World

Being terribly foolish can be extremely relieving for five minutes.
Not caring for what other people may think about this for a whole day.

Protect Me

There is someone living in me.
He determines on everything, he is stronger than me and he always wins.
Is it something like a love-hate relationship... how come that he would aid my recovery...

Fear

I am frightened of myself.
I better close your door.

Stand and Wait

One moment can really change everything.
Depending on if I see an inspiring film, listen to a marvellous song, read a deep book, admire an enchanting picture.
I feel let pass the opportunity.
Being an actress, a musician, an author, a photographer...
I may thank my stars that I don't have to decide.

From India

Based on the fact that our charisma is reflected in how people behave towards us we should never miss a chance in giving the one or the other smile to others.
We cannot lose, we only gain.

Inner Ear

I wonder why the world is closed today.
Did I say anything wrong?

Finding the Key

I believe we do not have strengths and weaknesses in ourselves.
Your weakness could change into your greatest strength only this moment.
You better chum up with them cause they want to stay with you.

Prayer of Remission

If one mistake made us suffering in hell,
we'd be there for a thousand times.
If one attempt to learn from them makes you see paradise,
I'll maybe dart a short glance at its gate...

A Single Atom

When I see all those countless methods that are not impossible I am surprised what life can bring. There is always someone being more successful, richer, smarter, skilfuller, better at anything than you. It is human getting depressed in the midst of comparability. But there is no need. I perceive it as a daily challenge starting from zero to change for the better, matched with myself...

My Trunkless Holiday

Music makes me forget about everything 'outside' ...
trouble, pressure, duty
but never about my considerations.

T O L E R A N C E

The word we use in discussions when talking about people who we actually don't understand.
I'm tolerant.
I can't tolerate intolerant people ! I can't tolerate people talking over where to get the next drink all their fucking lives ! I can't tolerate people insisting on their point of view ! I can't tolerate rich people never buying the Motz or the Straßenfeger ! I can't tolerate people not liking rock music !
I can't tolerate people voting for the NPD ! I can't tolerate people calling me intolerant ! Because everyone knows: I'm tolerant.

Touch

I stop breathing
and I try to hear.
And I see to it that I remember,
just to be sure you're not gone.

If there were only copies of myself...

If there were only copies of myself living on this planet the world would not have any politician. Not that I were not good at telling lies but bad at enduring the effects...

The Fate or Not

It's a superfluous thought, that's why I can't stop thinking about it.
Does the fate exist?
Can we prove that it doesn't exist?
Yes.
If I wanted I could try to take the next plane to any far-off place right now.
So I would do something I wouldn't have done if I hadn't wanted to change my fate.
Can we prove that it does exist?
It was my fate to change my fate on purpose.

Seek for the Truth

The probability that all my beliefs suddenly could be exterminated completely makes me so scared sometimes. The possibility that everything I believe in is real gives me confidence all the more and all the time.

Pan

Phaedrus: But let us go, now that it has become less oppressively hot.

Socrates: Shouldn’t we first offer a prayer?
Phaedrus: Of course.
Socrates: Dear Pan, and all you other gods who live here, grant that I may become beautiful within, and that whatever outward things I have may be in harmony with the spirit inside me. May I understand that it is only the wise who are rich, and may I have only as much money as a temperate person needs.
-- Is there anything else that we can ask for, Phaedrus? For me, that prayer is enough.

Phaedrus: Make it a prayer for me too, since friends have all things in common.

Socrates: Let’s be going...