Flob

2005 01 24

Stopped training muscles because I thought I needed to train mind. (Was I wrong? Oh yeah, wronger wrong!) It was a simple thought that came to worst-writer one day. Like sop many. What to do with such a useless thought? Write it down‚Äîbecause there’s nothing else in this well-trained mind to write down. (Today.) (Well trained? Seriously?) But then I noticed the Flob. What a beautiful creature she is/was. She over came me after a long stare. We gathered ourselves and went for a walk. I held her hand and she allowed me to call her… Flob, the dreary. But wasn’t. She smiled a lot and blew me behind a barn door. When I asked what we’d call the result of her actions, she paused and watched a Ducati park in the lot. I thought she was gonna leave for me the leather-clad pilot but she stayed and said: let’s call it Ben & Jerry’s best flavor. I agreed and continued walking. Nomatter.

How hard I trained. It comes in little places. Behind the knee, the ear and the worst, under my eyes the problem really started when, after reading practically everything, I couldn’t get it done. Back to muscle.

Tom

Something To Remember

2005 01 21

Something to remember? Something to forget? Well, not sure. But this does hold something true and real. A new “order”. But it wasn’t about the world.

“What is at stake is more than one small country (Kuwait), it is a big idea, a new world order, where diverse nations are drawn together in common cause to achieve the universal aspirations of mankind: peace and security, freedom, and the rule of law. Such is a world worthy of our struggle, and worthy of our children’s future.” -GHWBush, Jan. 16, 1991

Rant on.

Tommi

S'il Vous Plait

2005 01 20

A world of magnets. Never thought about it before. The magic of magnets. Where can I magnetize myself? Stereo speakers. Computer monitors. The seal around a refrigerator door.

Tachymeter: scale used to measure units per hour on a watch. Commonly found on the bezels of chronographs, an event is timed by using the chronograph’s second hand. The hand is stopped when the even ends and the hand will point to the number of units per hour that could be achieved.

“Of course the people don’t war. After all its the leaders of the country who determine the policy. And its always a simple matter to drag the people along whether it’s a democracy, fascist dictatorship or a parliament or a communist dictatorship. Voice or no voice the people can always be brought to the bidding of leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked or denounce the pacifists for a lack of patriotism and exposing the country to greater danger.” -Hermann Goering, Nuremberg Trials

The old adage, spoken so fluently by men with or without a hip limp and always resting on a fold-out chair in front of their garage or a terrace. “It ain’t like it used to be.” This is applicable mostly in terms of value. “The ice cream used to cost a nickel,” or “when I was a kid…” something that has to be purchased, used to be certainly less than it is today. I have come to believe that the issue the man is confronting is not about the point-of-sale of any particular product but instead the point-behind-the-sale. What most interpret as a criticism of inflation or earnings is really a superficial attempt at (…) hard-talk truths. These truths are about the mechanics of the economy. And like anything mechanical it has to be maintained. Of course such detail as this regarding the fundemental machinery that enables our lives, is beyond the old-man on his porch or terrace or patio. And that is why when we here this remark, whether child or adult (about the ice cream) we let it pass like a breeze so unaware of its knowledge-seeking value. Who, in their right mind would even want to deal with the mechanics of this machine? At first glance it is a somewhat complex machine. But with a little effort, a little time, understanding it is attainable. Take for example the mechanics of an automobile. With a little effort we can easily figure out how it works—with or without knowing how all the motor works with its numerous moving parts or the brakes with its minimal amount of oil that decides, like 0s and 1s, on or off, if we stop or keep going. Just like that we can also understand how the economy works and try and figure out why the old-man on his fold-out chair can say such an important thing and no one quite gets it!

S’il vous plait. S’il vous plait.

“Information is only as valuable as its source.” -p.30 from D. Brown’s Angels & Demons.

People makng. The pleasure. Let them smoke but make it illegal for them to not heed the request: gotta smoke for me?

I will indulge. I must. It is the sake of survival that commands me. And is it that I must endure? The mundane dressed up in a Emperor cape of gold and diamond. And so… I have begun… reading Dan Brown’s novel “Angels & Demons, as mentioned before. Of course his work is well thought-out. The result of (…) effort. Yes, his work must be commended. But not for its literary value. Instead for its entertainment value. Commendable. I made it quickly to chapter ten. Punting. Abstaining from anything requiring input. But then it all halted as Brown proclaimed an assassins need for love is in a whore house (or something like that). Quckly Brown redeems himself in chapter 11. Ambegram. But he lost me again in chapter thirteen.

Tommi

She Save

2005 01 19

Her birthday. Did she save me?

I ponder, motivated by certain books, the history of my world. I don’t remember the books anymore, and perhaps the pondering has become weak, but there are sparks lingering above me. In their spew there seems to be a pattern—a connect-the-dots game, maybe all I can make of it is that it represents something reminiscent of a map. It is only a partial map—of the earth, partitioned in nation-states and from the partition spew even more sparks.

TGS

Between Two Red Heads

christina kettering

2005 01 18

Der Gast. By Christina Kettering.

Sitting between two red heads in tight, cramped theater in Wiesbaden Staats Theater. The way it should be, baby.

Notes:

-ritual
-Wir sind kein… für sozial Fehle…
-Trying to be Komisch but the actors…
-Great stage scenery.
-(The Germans) can’t allow a Scherz, says the internationa bar-man.
-Oh, a great Stück über Germany now!
-Der Mensch wird zu lange von seinen Eltern (gehütet?)
-She falls asleep the middle of everything.
-trying philosophies
-Elternschaft mentioned for second time.
-No more Germany because of coffee um vier.
-When is British tee-time
-Freund Gewählt
-Pretty bad acting
-Schanderer (spell)
-How to talk to a woman
-Rockzipfel
-Ich hab einen Biographie and they go in to it who it’s about.
-Mit diesen clown Lied she set me in a trance
-The woman comes and saves
-Their relationship and how it developed was unclear, I missed it.

Good play!

Story: portraying late 1940s, early 50s, Europe. A small organization calling itself… is approached because it was heard that they are (the group) anti-communist. They are then given money by a CIA/OSS operative (the man who approached them) and then start partying. The name of the group is an acronym for portraying—finding something greek or latin for party-animal. This is a play about the beginning of the European Union, Pan-Europe, EEC. The western (Anglo-American) fight against communism.

I think–

Tommi

 

Inform

2005 01 17

The problem a functioning capitalist system inherits is information. Within that information is the/a truth. In a society based on secrets e.g. communism, a bottom-up flow of info can only be coerced. In a capitalist system, e.g. the west, the flow of information is rampant and virtually uncontrollable and it’s top down. The communist system went against gravity, nature. Capitalism goes with nature. Where is the capitalism?

What is the greatest source of info in a rampant over-informed society? Anything having to do with finance.

Tom

Lysistrata And The Graduate

92AlfaS4

2005 01 16

Walking another street I realize I’ll never know the moment of, will never remember, the joy of music caught from a one of the oldest English speaking churches in Germany. Evangelizing. The people of Africa, my people. Singing and joyous. Praising. The true spirit of Christ, of something Christian. Right in the middle of good ol’ Germania.

Idear: what was special in D. Hoffman movie w/ the car? Was it the Graduate car? Or was it something else according to the movie writers (if there were any)? Plastics. Plasitcs is what it was about. Plastics, since its invention, is the quick fix, the easy product, profitable and, most importantly, a by-product of oil. Plastic is the drive-in temple. The place and/or product where do many get the info telling them what to think and telling you how to live life better when you should be learning such a thing from… Yes. The convenience society. Its beginning. Origin. Plastic is the metaphor for so much more. There’s also boil-in-a-bag, quick frozen or freeze-dried. Where when will it all end?

Get list of books, novels, plays that “America” has tried to ban. What would the list look like in the form of tablets written by (a/the) god?

Don’t think I could write a picture of (a/the/my) perfect woman. Why is that? Because I know there is no perfection—at least not in human females. Or is there? How does one write (down) what beauty is? Answer: beauty is symmetry. Write well. Or. Step outside yourself, Mr. Worst. Find a girl with dirty-blond hair, mid-shoulder length, bundled into a ball at the back of her skull, the true (colored) hair underneath it fuzzing/buzzing around the top of her neck. She wears a blue t-shirt with a v-neck collar stretched so wide it barely hangs on her shoulders. There is a silver chain dangling from her neck. The chain is somehow connected to the top of the shirt to hold it from falling to oblivion. Her hair has silver strips that would, if allowed, glisten with dark (brown) eyes. But they look away so often. Probably because so many other eyes try to grasp her. The bottom of her shirt begins and ends at her navel only relieved by the blue painted jeans that hug baby-fat protruding from the top edges, just above a belt line. From behind she is a discolored lava lamp, bulbous shaped cake of candy perfectly decorated by twenty-four years of turning heads.

The reason man doesn’t learn from the past? Unlike animals, man doesn’t seem able to change his physiology to fit nature. Perhaps there is no need to do so. Perhaps he, in the context of time, he is to new, so-much-so his (her) unatested-ness simply cannot bring forth the natural change required.

Correlation between guilt and sin.

The comfort Ameirca has bad through the cold war is the simple reason that we define our own reality—as the reality of the rest (of the world). We are the opposite of what we ultimately don’t understand. That may well be our doom.

Oh. About that perfect girl thing (above). Although the colors match, the texture too, her ear-rings jingle with the bar light and contrast with her dull lipstick that is anti-red.

The art of drinking an Irish Stout. The art of love according to an ancient Irishman. An Irish boxer wanting to give up the violence and start a career in music. He wants to sing American country music but can’t get rid of his accent.

A woman and her jewelry, or lack thereof. A woman always wears jewelry. Because jewelry is not some metal, stone, refuge of a sea crustacean. No. It is her hair, her ear (lobes), the tip of her nostrils, the ring finger, the cleft around her vulva like the crease under the backside of her ear and if she knew or felt any of that between the penal pounding she must endure matrimonial confusion then she would awaken and steer toward the cry of Lysistrata and welcome the long needed pause…

Rant on.

Tommi