Stomach Virus Going Around In Ny 2010

23/12/2010, Gachnang

who stares into the net, who is among people who stare into the net, who only has his regular newspapers, magazines and broadcasts reads and hears, knows, there are no more descendants, it only filters help, archives, and eventually forget. And who these days wants to be aware, the encounters with the information accessible and the accompanying question pair. I leave myself to one? What do I do that? Visible information, whether voluntarily or not demand a response to their presence - and that includes from the one who wants her to discard only, nothing more than a Tate, an effort. The Gehüpfe my company is very well understood. The chatterbox, which affected the world has come in the form of a mad become Robin Hoods, therefore, of any information on the picks and he stumbles away to the rich, but also to the poor and the dead, then all the creep out of their palaces and tombs and alleys to somehow to deal with it. And as they crawl out of their palaces and tombs and alleys, the wind sometimes closes a door behind them and then come around kings not to go to cabins, septic in palaces and many a dead man in a new life. So play like before our eyes, this miracle, they moisten our parched faith with the sacred water of progress. And as our all progress, is also this one, to a Art by God. Until his feet until they touch our lips and we kiss into the void. My company is dancing so in the electric light ahead of the saving soulless, opens the eyes, ears, mouth, nose, buttocks and makes what hue to occur - with abandon, but no, not without it to evaluate it, not without to draw conclusions, not without reason not to act on the mental addition, and no, not to flutter like flags without the hurricane, focusing on resolving the ends.

And the barren heaths, roll like the hedgehog?

They have to contend with the fact that if harnessed, they have to their bodies with each impacting information again in the will to defeat it, defend it and those morsels which they love and shiny seem, and as they are then contrite open a gap far, they shall be stoned. As the flag flutters in it, will roll the rolled up hedgehogs out from the wind and as he presses his face into his belly, painted his head off, what happens outside of it. It differs as the seeing of the blind to enter the luxury provided by images of the world with information, rather than homemade. But we do know it but do not want to see: only the best are doing at home, it tastes really good. On the other hand, chokes you, too happy on behalf of gay dogma.

But what now? What to do?

If my company is a whore, I want to be a castrato, and yet when it comes to perverts, and I still refuse her, then this should be no end, on the contrary, an act it has to be: It is the walk to the basement. And where there is none, as it is dug. Thus one encounters perhaps to mate.

Distended Stomach After Hernie Surgery

20.10.2010, Berlin

True, we are the whores of habit and the revolutionaries can not have it otherwise. What is new, feels differently. And before it's ever so far, you have to rush To leave and feels for the person who wants nothing than that, like haste. If a long-time prisoner is released, he may be allowed to tell a story of which he knows that he better keep to yourself. Also, the pyromaniac could tell how many times he takes far too early match of the fuse and run, out of respect for the longed-fire, which he can only put it as a dud in the earth. Namely overcoming register by itself. They do not advertise the fact that they shed, and that it can grow new, but with the sheer power that makes this possible. What we and our sensitive Dogs smell it in the October air, no Geisterbote but our good experience. She knows long before we get down to work, to require the energy of each transition, it was a step, it is a leap, or a great new idea which, as it aufbindet is our passion, the same implement applies. Yes, the will is the way, but only just approaching them thing. Then, if in anticipation of Kaventsmänner sits in the boat, you have to be first come upon himself. And it takes courage and courage is very tied to the faith, and faith only just floats in the air, and in the air just flies all sorts, one crashed into the ground soon, and then you know where you stand, and is definitely not much. Therefore, we can tear us from the shore, we can teach a better, save our own sense of failure to accommodate it and, quite by accident, the practical community. It held the life, even that of the fantastic vortex, which brings it with ignorance instead of barbs, an attractive rate. But the desirable excesses are held in long staked fields, for example, the career, wealth, happiness, or art. Among the things to which we aspire for a lifetime, the few possible routes are given. Let us sit down to catch but once around, or we return to even the suffering and poverty are no limits, because with these Things you can not deal, and if you do it, then from above, or so, which one soon after it dies.
Thus one is in bed and dreams of a better world. Thus one is in bed and tells how you would have liked. Thus one is in bed and imagines how it would like it to all. Thus one is in bed, wondering who you are, but if you yourself is lying in bed. catch

Holland And Barratt Tan Tab

09/22/2010, 16/09/2010

try the confusion with their fluttering paper, the ink ribbons in the wind, so all sorts of questions come to their open ends are at. As you while running the fire on the wrong track, they ask it thus: What should I spend my life? Then burn the confusion to already, and glows slowly to the core, washed his Zappelglieder down slowly, first the hair, very quickly, then the skin burns brightly like a wick in the fat of the meat, then the crackling bones, slowly smolder and char them , then disappear the last stumps, and only shortly before the tubby heart burnt, there clarity about what causes suffering and then resolves the confusion.

It's too late for a naive life. The questions are asked, ordered the escort to death.

The first reason of the will is broken off early like a cork, and infected now, along with the universe in the large bottle. With the will is the deed, it is the second reason. With her first start in life, and every passion.

I think since I can read. Since that time moving to oversee the limit moment of my fading memory. Several years and many books were there anyway. This reading was already beginning primitive intellectual influences, nothing noble. For example, my romantic superstition and mysticism-my pleasure. Certainly I do not read because it is fun or knowledge, I will therefore , not because I was told time and again, I therefore must - first the book was easy in the hand, then it made that impression on me, on the I took in with him.

First, the books were then in hand. I suggested then mostly on reading. I read superstitious to end, nonstop and suffering to not even this world again and again to see in fragments and I read constantly and suffering to the history of Judaism in the words of Hananiah's, my comrades are next door, not again, not again to listen to, and I constantly read and suffering because I am the beats of the title and the cover of the books to forced, otherwise I would have any unread side need to reinvent themselves. Read instead of write. Later, one must then write sometimes, instead of reading. Because the number of sets solved after all these years in the head from the sides of the poor authors decompose gather and begin to impose themselves as other stories - so you can become a writer: As copper pressure relief valve of the spiritual library. Then you sit in front of the keys and looking for a pool.

But I do not write.

also heard too much music - so become a writer. Musician and Writers, despite the cold strangers in their mutual admiration almost the same, which explains why it is very rare to meet in one person. The painter begins to paint even after he already painter!

But I do not write.

And reading my passes. Everything is still visible, and everything is yet to be written - it is impossible to cope. What is meanwhile handled the vanities and nonsense, this is verkunstet and jacket made in which one looks ridiculous. Any new text added to the blacklist of pure thought of the dogs picked up and from dog catcher now published again to make good, by the author, the reader and the operation of the combines are cleaned.

Who if not we should write this as pure text, which makes us institutionalize the texts again and again? Who writes the lyrics that make up the idea of literature and not their morass, the texts that we believe the old way can and give hope ? Who ever wrote this? The author does not, he was not sure. When authors stand behind texts, which they almost always do, you can see them on the edge of their lyrics are, right in the right corner of the page below. There you'll see them on their page numbers, balances and waving their handkerchiefs fumble. This distracts terribly.

One should never give his book, page numbers, then it is not necessary and the balancing of the vain author figurine, it falls within the abyss. And must be deep enough to make it possible crashes when it reaches the bottom. The author has no role in the literature, he should not have! The question was raised after the man, and then whether to anything he has written. A man has to say something is not enough. Who has something to say should say it simply. Who has to write something that can write.

I do not say much. And I do not write!

The person I'm confused her quest for other versions, before me a copy of all others together. The arbitrary window once you had got to the metallic touch of the many that stuck out behind the exhibited goods desired, a mirror-like luster. So everyone looks the other to see what he wants, mostly for yourself - And one even in himself, all the others. What have I done to be like I am, is to say: Who is that I have to do to make me? Today more than ever, that look to us in every moment. The hordes of visitors, a chaotic social circle. So there now no longer simple complex person. The individual loses its complexity in the hall of mirrors, but slip into the multitude. That we have a single body, begins now to find the mental illness to the dilemma for the modern man. Each of us can be like a paper cut are pulled apart and evolve into a society that is as wide as those who found him and he just happened. Professional, and fool mother and father were here, everyone is a spirit of an old time flat, "super flat", but in large numbers. Everyone has it to be any in itself, and not only the farmer's son, the cripple, or the murderer, when one is born.

But in whom to appeal is made, at the hour of need? From whom in me, I prefer the text is to write, if the keys just a secretary, a fool? From the writers of the reflected to me? For the entrepreneur who Reflects on me? From the craftsmen, which is reflected in me? From the car salesman, a waiter, the bookseller, from all good friends that are reflected all about me? What a monster it will be when one throws a stone at its disk, as in the fragments of the eyes of the Other as mirror-coating compound eyes and her arms as tentacles ...

But I will not describe it.

make order out of his variety to another man, the many flat images are superimposed to give them scope. So close together then the author of the one is, the carpenter and the cook of one is also the mother of son who Vatermöder and the gay one, the one is just no longer be seen as a single, return as the spirits that they are all back into the bottle of the ego. It happens automatically every night during sleep. Therefore, the first few hours after waking are well suited for Eigeneichung. During the day we tumble apart during the battle in our eingebeizten items, the evening we are a congress of capitalists. Wicked beat them each other down in order to be powerful. These figures, one can not allow our books to write for us, most recently the author, it is not suitable at all.

So I do not write. I write not so. That's why I do not write. Leave me not to. I write not so. So I do not write.
I do not write.
I do not write.

I do not write.

Battery Access On Rite Temp 6036

Berlin, Berlin

in a bag without air,

reserves the onion its fragrance.

There, they cook their own juice,

tap water would take 'her only strength.

The onion is a shell animal,

a vain vegetables, like us.

Why is it only because we taste so bland?

Should we perhaps put in a vacuum bag?

My friends are young as I

romp and mostly without me. die

While their inner shells,

they may share greater.

Then they spin threads from which hang hook

and learn again to know new people.

And because this all come in the way of creating a network -

Sun crawls along slimy threads of the work of art now.

Here is the Merciless for us people of this great time:

In the Flood loses any part of his own mind.

Is not that the world is indeed in the earth,

the worm in the cloud but is replaced by a professor?

Among people begin to stick my thoughts

It is hard for me to see me even here yet.

In bed the other hand, dream I'll sit me with others,

at a round table, excited with flashes of wit:

verkaften Would we at least the demons.

we could lease more of our happiness right!

For their attacks on our intelligence,

gives us a bad social life efficiency!

Now I wonder whether it makes wise,

this with the onion and its juice.

For who cooks in itself is soft and dies

off the company, meanwhile corrupts itself.

Targus Replacement Cord

09/09/2010, 03/09/2010

the actor as a man and the spectacle of the people.

Man does and survives and goes on his way to go man. You do, you will be spotted here and for the value of the fact recognized by many judges and paid for by some. Do and the audience present in every life. They come in a twin, are interdependent and together the people who actually Actor. As a result, the actor is a very special man, a double Lottchen fact.

The activity is a result of personality, it is said that it was the reaction to a complicated back and forth from the inner world and outer world. Why not? But why, if the cards are in their own lives so often mixed in another hand, speak of a life with a character, and why are hoping to himself and his friends ever to know well?

We may in our lifetime a body and a Name and very own quirks, but they have already happened is something unforeseen and our behavior no longer visible again. We are capable of this deviation, is in the service of our lives, as if it is to point out that we are just not immovable originals, but actors - people who live by roles, and even if one is a sweetheart, in improvise or change the plight of others can. There is nothing embarrassing. It is indeed playing, but still playing themselves, of the road. Such is the seriousness of life.

The interplay of inner and outer world, which is the inner drive that is in the middle of our heart and we continually the book trade by which we write as we play on the edge of the heart for it and at the same time we sit back on its surface, and judge. There are two bilateral relations in us. One between the author and the actors, a beating between the actor and the internal audience, but never, perhaps only when the heart stops, is the author made the internal audience. The theater and its Trinity takes apart and institutionalize what is already united in each individual and makes him a perpetual motion machine. It depends on where it moves. The water that the paddle wheels of our mobile fallen, by itself overcome rising Channels once achieved, will turn with time, and depending on where we drive differently.

An actor without an external audience, or a man without his inner, is, as it would thus be compelled to any iteration, the original man - for man is "one. To introduce such, we would have to go to our depth. Who is this black lump of us? He is never quite seen, because he sold only. Just as the sun shines and fades, we never see in their core. This is not to store, as the actor who we are, after all, equipped with its own audience, and to eternal sighting of itself compelled. What we do have to do is not to derive derivatives of the original - after all. Self-reflection, as we understand it, so there is not more than thought. And in it a vague acquaintance is possible. As a critical observer of the roles to develop, we are allowed to draw conclusions, which can detect the outlines of the shadowy self. Here we can like what we see or not. We throw roses on the stage, or eggs, shout, laugh, cry, and wet, so we whipped or caress the hidden actor and the invisible author - in this way, we wind at our happiness, by the relationship between these parts of us, always an activity. First of all this come in second place to our friends, our listeners and fellow players as an audience to the outside world into the game, but they have as opposed to the interior of audience, a more direct line to our innermost being, which is because everyone only himself such a blinding sun , but not the others.

When both actors is duplicated, both the drama and the audience. Of the art forms that life has no such duplicated, like the theater, however, and the film. Not everyone schriebt, not everyone reads, not everyone paints, and just think, at least not in the institutionalized way the art, once the word is spoken, the artist, or the philosopher imposed. Whether artists or not, everyone lives and plays, whether actors or not. So the theater is the most immediate of many processing and artification "the fact that we are doing all , and our lives, talk, jump, sing, think - so just like in the theater.

So by the actor, and how he sold more than he thinks (which is equivalent to the letter) to recognize and executive nature of that part of us which we are the most conscious.

Internally well-connected people can well, improvising from day to day, as on stage - but they need not theater, to be good people.

And what is his double play from the actors? Probably not more than one person, with the madness of his peers. So the question is rather: For making this game a double man? Which creatures are, therefore they are actors, people? There are those who got lost inside the crowd. It is either dumb, or it has left the theater, and left only the usual suspects in the seats: the sleeper, the thrower, or the screaming. In response to one of three in order to wake him or to return to scream, plays the actor, and as one of the three, he thinks.

all this is indicative of the writer, the actor better invisible with its author, as his close inner audience gets along draws, thus only trivial from the depth and of the monologues he hears himself speak on stage , but become quite deaf but has been qualified in a bored audience to the inner spirit of his erection of habitable castles in the air.

Presario V6000 Coprocessor What Drivers

Berlin, Berlin

left the rails, five floors below. The trains can be heard through the thick glass hardly what The authors here have certainly brought to the monorail that runs through her now red text.

also before me a dozen desks, behind me. Each one, two or three basins wide and anchored to the ground. Now, these are real jobs, or job, free as in any company, but it charged academically - for every even similar to any case for students. Anyone who takes his work somewhere, anywhere else does, just as in the university library is obviously not like this go unnoticed. The rest and concentration with us a place befliesst with sediment. Granular comes with. No one who is not brainless, can continue while the coat the world to escape presents us. The less the artist.

first offered to me at this little table as an enclave in which I finally can do everything. Build castles in the air, especially as everyone else. I sit and watch. I think and I work. Thus, filling the freedom until it is gone. At this point the body is replaced by the people he has surrounded himself with his mind and it starts to drift. This is the ideal constitution of the worker: A body on intellectual air cushions: Quick and agile, with self-renewing gas. In the company takes over another at the helm. Others may itself

To my right, the rows of books, the actual library. She swallows the sounds. In fact, I cough, and she takes it away from me. I began to hate books too. The objects, like ants, just as the literature. Thousands of enemy invasions for readers and writers. And the finest expression of weak-mindedness and self-love of good people. I wish the literature would be inhuman. It always shine the moist lips, the silly face or the arrogance of the writer through the text, if not all three, always at least one of them. To him also liable not only the filth of men, but also of his crazy parents and grandparents. Books are a mirror for the current state of disaster that affected the world since the people added. Libraries and archives are in favor. You have to be to fly in every way. Small, fine in the dirt, but not dirty.

Nerovision Express Numer Seryjny

08/31/2010, 08/24/2010

In May 2009 I took a job that I did not understand. She was hysterical required condition for my love in a foreign city and the first major Independence: My marble cliffs. Meanwhile, I should have nursed the position as my own man in the business of any confusion. But now, as the business dissolves into confusion, bring me the first inkling of clarity, not more than a good taste, which attracts the dead meat in the finish by himself. It was also never asked of me, except require the use of precisely those of myself, make of it what you want, but do it well! Bloss, the money which I did this work, lost time, which cost me, its value. In this peculiar gap year, pitted my passions and concerns over so that when I'm bitter, barely survived. Of course there was much to gain - as each time came out, therefore, with gifts for the Treasure of the writer. This is simultaneously encouraging and inevitable.

And why should be spared me, what no one is spared? The difference between the will and the world is not all so conscious and painful. The liberal upbringing has me - and many of my friends - put on a pedestal, every first of the square. We defend in the sunshine, but mostly in the shade. Today we can easily create selfish worlds. Be tempted to live so that everything else we know and love and else else takes any time at arm's length revolves around you. As the world becomes seemingly smaller in this way, we forget their growing size - and are surprised to whom it passes us with their own plans.

Last year, I no longer wanted as in highly coded images report on my activities. I was ashamed of this fact for the timeless life I was paid relatively expensive - a remarkable effort conjured passion, I to question the overload of work always forgot. Money is the drug of the drones. Why everything seemed so terribly interesting, while a part of me rebelled against it. What part satisfied me what I do, what hurts, what I leave? How do I measure the weight of these parts, in which I am apart?

is also my work area only as riddled with Anglicisms. What I did may sound, just not good.

If I, as it otherwise could, but it said, then with an unusual strength. It came from the painful effort of myself and the conviction was ultimately as a kind of passion. It can be seen by how much persuades a person talking to themselves, the extent of their internal discord.

August 2010: Project completed, the future open, people split, spent money, passion put to the test, bitter end, transit, where? And from idealists suddenly become human beings. The common good is polarizing into a bunch of individual plans. While I try, because they sparkle so beautifully, some pieces of the business aside, I take more time for the other and note: not writing has become easier.

Dragon Ball Gt Pan No Clothes

Berlin, Berlin

The concentration suffers it. Not only the intellectual deterioration, but also the concentration of people in itself, with all makes what they do. They watered down, it is diluted, verdünnisiert is probably not completely, but significantly and more and more. You can tell in the course of the day when one evening empties the head, and over all examined years in which it is itself then never went on the road. The general world events, contrary to popular illegally have become specialists, is neither a single yet moor countable powers - for there is now definitely the Mandelbrot figure! The progress, especially the technical, somehow seems messianic makes our lives a little better and a little worse, all stretched forward progress (the progression of time) life, he makes more it - what, precisely when so much has happened, but is called as? We are now the wine panscht the greedy landlord properly with water. This must be said that the even the odd one enjoys.

It threatens us all, we have almost no choice, not even the Bush people with their small, wet TVs. We watered them all. A healthy share of the Self through the Self is reduced: from liquor, an aqueous solution, from fiery red, a pale pink, from the genius is a chain link, an idea, a thousand methods, and archives it. The comparison with the past is not necessary on my part because I had forgotten them. Sheer presence, it takes what she deserves - it exists now no longer actually. I speak to and from the game. I ereifre me of the things that make every minute trends visible. It is about the minimum conditions of the now, the color and flavor composition of the latest development of the schizophrenic zeitgeist. As always, does today, all that is today the day off - which is now far too much. (It was always too much, but this invisible;. In the early days of unimaginable theoretical universe, then unobserved, undemanding) And maybe the zeitgeist has never been as "up to date as today. Perhaps this could penetrate saturated Now has never been so fast and so easy and so much in my brain and heart. Maybe I've never been so weak. This morning it seems to me, I had to wait longer, on fewer and fewer things overall than now. And in this waiting time I could be myself, could learn who I am and what makes me. And before a few weeks ago, A few weeks could still nuts all summer long accuse the grappa, and in winter we expect a wonderful Ratafia. Had been hoped. Outdated. Receive calls. Post received. Read the paper. Images looked. staring into the net. New person has become - with a new plan. After all that I not only make the already vague Even from , but anything and everything behind last very latest of all the others too - the displaced me. And in winter, I expect Ratafia instead, a new depression. We know our grandparents know it too, but for simple reasons: Life was hard and who wants to freeze it? Today we call life easier and it freezes well, no one but throw all in the winter out the window.

There's something wrong. It has never voted anything. The zeal to find the harmony, we also seem further and further away from how it is, after all, whether that is about it's true or not, the self-namely, Basic.

Who euphoric floating in the zeitgeist, is already half hybrids. Nass, including sheer, deaf to themselves and all traces. He stretches out painlessly in step with the increase of his things. He sees this, if anything, the beginning of a transition that is not without pain and confusion - but, Thank God, moves towards a good cause! Someday, he hopes and believes the recent Homo Faber, the added value will be seen in the consolidation of the crowd, in a kind of supernova, when enough mass is present, and critically. Specialists call this moment the singularity and trust her to all sorts of unpredictable. Those disciples operate the way the opposite religion madness: with open eyes in the dark - rather than with closed eyes to the light. At many of course these two things, and everything else gone. They are the quota, which holds the world events continually as collateral Dumpfbacke for future genocides, or for coming Savior.

How To Get Plp For Matlab R2006b

17.8. 2010, Berlin

long time I thought we were best friends and I and the capital - for a life together determined. Meanwhile, this promising relationship from a distance of advancing age, as one has debunked many incoming and outgoing characteristics of a pattern in which the interaction takes place between wealth and bankruptcy contrast especially in the length. The last monetary crest was because even deserve particularly satisfying, and is now just as satisfying in a self-earned defeat of Valley, which I precaution purchases, mainly books, zuschüttete so I read the inevitability of this valley or swimming under me and let me calm to toe, or better, can float on the water just below the top of the next mountain. At best, we pour it against periodic valleys always with money. I enjoyed it, as I said, served only for books, so this is now a bust time reading time.

The money and the way that it costs will be evident. It must. It has no other choice! The Animals of the West come when called, even if not always sure where is. The emergency changes the tone of the calls you, it will be in trouble then show inevitably emergency money and no other. Depending on how you call, there was a kind of money or any other. The goal is that Herbeizupfeifen money, dancing freely on our side, quite naively, without that one's lips and mouth to solidify eternal grimace. Express what you want is the first and perhaps the need skilled writers, while others turn worthless word must first be put into practice, not even the next.

It is reassuring, as the life of me doing random people to each other, disappear during the next one and created to give feed the hand. So I have modified as a decent earner and the drone capable writers and book lovers, I am now even a wheelbarrow full of donated books to to comfort me while I work on other means gifts for my future personalities.

Old Moms Pantİes Gals

30/06/2010, 05/19/2010

What separates us from the madness, is designed much like the shell of the LM *, and if life passes by it, you realize how it curls. Our madness protective film is created from repetitions, a (ehrlicherweise!) stupid though aesthetic rapport: Pinstripe, fish hooks, houndstooth, paisley, polka dots, and so on. Life is an expensive tailor the dress for our internal unstable patients - and so the robe sits mostly like a glove. But precisely, it curls, the linen-cloth flapping in the wind, flailing his tie around his neck and shoulders, and sometimes one of the Fedora flies from the head, which is quite normal. We were quite born naked, at that time. Today one does his first breath in an evening dress or evening dress. You can say: Oh, my nerves costume? This is perhaps déformation professionelle of the last millennia! Is it not true that all those outside the institutions kinky mutants, actor and Salon cripple the worst kind? Is not the madness of the press sometimes like blood through our summer clothes, the only sensible response to the remarkable coincidence chains of world history? I feel the most honest, when I despair of the Grey, and I the fingertips of the universe feel on my back, only in moments of rapture when I allow myself to let go of thought, from that were written, analysts have been done to slaves, the damned humanized and slowly, ever on the disappearance; find myself in the delusion, in the tragedy, in the frenzy of joy and so on. It's not a question whether the artist has to be an alcoholic to be an artist you have to be alcoholics are artists, no, it's about whether would be madness for not a very useful state for the people. Therefore, I prefer me sometimes too easy.

* (That aircraft touched down with the man on the moon, was the weakest link in the chain of the Apollo missions. The shell of the spider-like landing vehicle - a membrane between the space and a comfortable interior - was little more than an extra-thick aluminum foil. A pocket knife she would cut through with ease)

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Rainbow

Today on Pentecost Sunday was the view from the window of your room this strange double rainbow, and now our thoughts were with you.

rainbow image of hope,
colorful, playful in the sky.
your magical colors
here on earth, everyone knows.

Beneath your sky Bow
shines in the sunlight,
our hearts are intertwined
full of love, ever.

When dark clouds of fate
stand horrible once before us,
awakens your shine in our hearts
hope for a reunion.

Raina Jeschke

At the end of the rainbow

I look up to heaven,
light rain weeps softly my face,
my thoughts are with Dir

through dark gray clouds
pave the first gentle rays of the sun
their way to Mother Earth.

A magical, colorful bow,
its colors stretched across the landscape,
the bridge to paradise.

Perhaps you paint the same feelings,
tenderly in your heart,
at the other end of the rainbow.

Gerhard Stadler


delicate poem like rainbow
is drawn only on dark background.
why pleases the poet genius
the element of melancholy.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Guy Publıc Masterbation Bus

Berlin, Berlin

life in space;. Life in society. Cell division takes place. Family reasons, dismiss the shoot. Families split up and distributed; on the area, the land, the continents continue to grow and divide again and so on. Meanwhile, old cells die off. The areas where this takes place are not roads, not cars, not churches, not public places, but the accumulated area of family and individual bays, houses, apartments and cabins. Together they form a sort of tunnel, slip through the families and family lines and similar communities, while the Tunell every now and then separates into several directions. So you suddenly living alone with cats on Corsica. Who would have thought? And when you fall out well? In which pens you die?

anonymous as the events occur at the backbone of society! One does not expect a friendship with the neighbors. Man expected to know anything about the life of the people behind the windows opposite. And who knows what a few streets further happens? The familiar surroundings of his deceptive. It's just habit, repetition is meaningless pictures while and go out. The only thing I know for sure by the Company, as it is with me in the shelter, as it looks at my home, how to get there, as there feels like, and how it happened. Significant insights into the most important part of life the other are minimal. Who are all these people who are not I? What I see from them that makes me really?

And then takes his stuff and you slip a city, a content class, a porcelain dinner service and a marriage up, down, or wherever. Fill empty places or we demolish.

outside of it, the big wide world. Outside of which the gross domestic product. Outside of this, the judge's decision. Outside of this, the factories and slaughterhouses. Outside of this, the newspapers and what they write, these messengers of a thin atmosphere. And we are idiots they order us to go home to be a part of it around. We browse through this book while the heart is like a mighty spur of the chair, through the soil, the foundation reaches deep into the city and at the innermost their own soil clinging. We have so much to say. We are landlords, our beaches are global mountain ranges, together they account for almost all it is - but without that the items would ever gain a familiarity with this type of coexistence.

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17.3.2010, 13.5.2010

Every day, every day, an entry that I write myself a reminder on the wall. Why at all? Because it was a silly year maybe? Because I had long enough away misled about deeper needs? Because people have wasted time? Because then catch up? Attribute, the gap the longer the unwritten is? Conscience sake? The disappointment for the sake of the future? Against despair? The funeral?

No! Out of fear, not to play the role one has to play. For fear of not being the one who writes. Profession: writer. Everyone has to assert itself, all of us and also the font. She has been to be by those who can decorate with it. Man looking for each other. The man is a bit more than writing. It is a kind of dress, and as such it more inwardly and outwardly. If you then feel naked, you have rumgetrödelt too long. Since helping to write or only drink. Character set, happy be, to be a writer. You just have to do really well to be.

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Berlin, Berlin

today run with new brakes on the bike. And the faster. When Ben steps several times flying behind me. Sun pile up while driving the little bad conscience - here hit a traffic light, as only just wide at the meat of the flaneur, then fried almost over the fence and high voltage, like in the tracks flown - so that I think in the end; I would have gone better. It is not from the effort, it's cold sweat. Anxiety to themselves or others to tear into death. Why not! Homo sapiens excels in what he is not born. This is our way. Drink because born sober; lawn because born slow ones, because of the randomness accounts, letters, because animal. Those who rediscover Original, as the slowness, or abstain from all sorts of silly things like children, if there is no question of the superman are to question a lot.

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05/12/2010, 05/05/2010

birth of timelessness is then covered over. In time, everything dies with time. Everything is laid, is struck down, tends to surface smoothness, transparency. Sand on the beach - the waves grind it to its source. Everything is Universe is no longer there to polish.

other day I'm your partner. Especially in the morning. One of my sleep on, remain in me are when I get up, falls in my legs when I go into it, then they are very hard, for hours. Sack of potatoes at the foot, hands, abdomen, the jaw and on the eyelids. Potato sack, or a tight rope to the center of the earth. With the busyness of the day stretches and loosens it from all the pulling and jumping and cycling. At night, lying asleep in the umbilical cord is rescheduled, pulled tight and hung all over again at a poker at the center of the earth. Otherwise it would go like this with us -

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Berlin, Berlin

If they are driven to extremes, pacifists tell you: I do not really violent, but ... - Then they just beat it to time. When the energy is true at some point, there is nothing higher or more profound, which prevents us crush the barricades we cosmically inevitable and believed.

In any turn that thought I find myself again. The signs had heaped itself. At least: a series of random changes I had for the events since Tuesday is a very personal set collected: My current obsession with the Brandenburg Concertos, the disappointed expectations of the new dwelling must first be pleasantly alienated the many well-known furniture and objects from my past, now me further brought on their journey, the circular rain outside the door, just only at the door to the office, and the cycling, the obscure pages of the city opened up to me by this.

It happens in baroque light, as I will be down for a "very different" year his many experiences together with confirmed doubts in his lap. The absolute belief in a Thing that gives you the energy to overcome gut feelings a strange character, perhaps similar to that of Earth's gravity.

So I also called myself an entrepreneur, I defined in the list of passions, some new, happen just so as to make it! And if the case includes other faith, you find yourself alone at times believing the door. Then they say that time and bitterness are common larger. Then they say, is the belief it was never even that big. And the cognitive dissonance takes its course until you are happy, busy again.

the life I had with regular disaster almost forgotten. Perhaps even must increase their scale so that they can develop their familiar refreshing effect.

How are again? What was the question? What do I want?

So now come back to me make stuff.

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02/04/2010, San Francisco

There is plenty to see as much as anywhere else. I'm already familiar with so much to me can come to her eyes. What makes the trips that many memories are anomalies caused it: the many small differences of the many manifestations of the same idea, the merging of new with older varieties, and the ever-studded starting point for any further experience. When entering a foreign land, you're in one of the engagement of the recent past, saturated, lazy bubble of perception, it works for a few days, such as milk glass. To me the people were in the transit lounge - Americans - such as actors, or copies of real human, synthetic, plastic as before. The confirmation of the suspicion that the facade is the demonstration of this idea came Facade polystyrene, reinforced the glorification blend of travel and well-known cultural asset, a little bit to the detriment of the United States. A couple of days I was like in a space suit and laughing: It can not all be true!

All right here to say I'm here on business. Meanwhile, pour, and beauty business as a life of art and life in the Santa Clara Silicon Valley.

always wants to get out of it, would rather fail than to write anything else, will not say how pompous, everything is working! Or: working does not exist! WORK - LIFE. Whatever! On the hunt lemniscate turning foxtail. Comme Ci, Comme Ça. In addition, the continuity of life. The time goes by, to want the money to get the kind. And along the way are monoliths, watch me, I pause, fool, they say, sad, sad, the large ground glass, smashed in the border rare moment, do want, washing machine? What should we do the , every moment, that's the big question. In this regard, as confused as ever -

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springtime

March 8, 2010

Not all pain is curable, as some sneak
deeper and deeper into the hearts elapse
And as days and years,
Will they stone.

you talk and laugh as if nothing had happened,
They seem faded away like foam.
But you feel its oppressive weight
up in the dream.

Spring comes back with heat and light,
The world is a sea of flowers.
But in my heart is a place
As blooms no more.

Ricarda Huch

The angel of farewell be with you!

If you take a farewell
and you do not know
what you should feel, think and
he keep up against all attempts to escape.

He'll show you a place for your grief.
He'll leave you the valuable pictures
found hold of your memories and
so nothing is lost,
what is precious to your path.

He'll let the laughter
slowly re-learn.
All relapses into dark thoughts
he'll make certain that
that God has not left you
and ways for you still remains open.


Blessed are you,
their cries now
for you will laugh again.

Luke 6.21

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Is it again a year ago?

http://defqon1-australien-2010.blogspot.com/

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01/25/2010 Niederau (A question of energy of a place)

In Niederau asset mountains no strength from the depth of draw. Icing, scared from slopes occurred over the years, only the work of a pastry chef, a helper in the simple act of creation, inviolability and yielding. Sometimes nature gives us their permission, sometimes not. With our growing interest in their diversity is changing its character. What used to - as a gift to nature (at those sacred part of the soul) - Carefully temple was laid, is now easily an ungrateful mall. We are of the acid part of nature, we soften the material from which we are. Maybe we are still the city planet! Then pierce through clouds flowers scratches meadows, and our eyes glide over the electrical precision-made crust.

I see the landscape through the window, they try not erst. We have taken us a week time in a kind of isolation to invent the future of our organization. Maybe we had better put in a tectonic fault.

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15.1.2010, Berlin

find yourself, through regular potholes and disasters (the greatest suffering a time is always the greatest sorrow of the time - be it trivia), more and more in that life, "as it has to be" and tries to then calmed down and bored, now and in the masters of the glorious idea of anointing that all this is rightly so, because - one looking a bit longingly into the past - has changed, but certainly not too much, get the important but not only recognized, but also has a firm grip. Thinks the patient after he has already felt a suspiciously long time healthy. The dilution, even the destruction of certain events and their consequences, which we done on time, good, expect a maximum in the form of a new coat of paint. It may be drunk, the child slaps his mid-twenties from the brain, pushed in front of the first home under self-earned money Mattresses hidden in-built fantasies packed - forgot to have coped with and forgiven, but the man who suffers, finds a security, from two hard blows below the surface, in an older painting - well the man knew of no suffering, only the small new wunderkind drunken life. We are such good covers, we humans with our brilliant bodies.

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01.11.2010, Berlin, Supplement

A question of perception: from a divine perspective Vogel says one thinks one sees on the one man, the other was its setting - the seemingly infinite sphere of things that surround us. With life we think but never one without the other. However, I believe that a large part of what we call the environment, bird perspective, the people themselves take place, and not around it. What's in the thing, must, to be inserted, can put us in first time. So it's hard for me the things around us to recognize its own depth. We have to give depth to choose - or not. So it is just more shallow in this life, if one assumes that not red really is warm, the music is not really sad that the car actually has no eyes, no face and the moon . That life that surrounds us is, at most two-dimensional. It has a Surface, and if it is lucky, something which we take from us and put behind it. The smart look of the Homo Sapiens automatically sets an artificial depth in everything which he touches.

What is real depth? depth of humanity.

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9.1.2010, 1.4.2010

Long after the first awakening I fell into a tired spell of a fractured film at noon in the deepest sleep of the day just seems possible. The Dystopian and the fire of this film made her way into my dream and I made myself as a leader of my own little revolutionary movement because an evil man, it was the intimidating character from another movie - and I accidentally burned it alive . For this I was like the cast of another film, quite often naked. No one died. My dreams never die someone. At most of the time in which I look no more, in the aftermath of the sudden awakening if the story is spun in the next bent. Through my dream character has never been anyone to get dead. Chopped off heads go on. Shots fired not meet. The high case is absorbed gently. Fire does not burn.

I think people are considered in depth and shy. It's just the wake surface, the outermost rind of consciousness, at which whets the shallow life, sitting in the shower power of our wickedness.

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Berlin, Nuremberg, Berlin

by a hard-frozen Germany. In the south, initially frosty grass, and these are interspersed with Eisrauch gray white air; later only thick white mats. We get around a lot. From regional to local train track. In Nuremberg, says, as expected from our ICE. Secretly, I hope for a longer Stay in this city. I imagine a gorgeous hotel room, I imagine, draw to heroically the wallet to save reckless the situation - and a visit to the Nazi sites, the large field, the stairs, the pillars there incident where the radiator. The public transport breaks down somewhat romantic.

Another stroller replaces the ICE. This is not like the snow in the Alps, always a bit bold and dangerous, but sluggish, hopeless. He is so long until it soaks up the floor - and not let go until the German people - so goes an old quote - has again notified to the human race.

Swiss hate! It happens. No hatred, perhaps, but so much stupid basement that I now speak German propose a flat rate against those and grab the cheapest means. After six months I Switzerland has become an icon. I expected during the holidays to ever best the planet has to offer to return. Well, yes. Zurich visited. Klosters seen. Hurrah called. Champagne drinking. Been a bit disappointed. Or misplaced. Abroad, I am a patriot, a proletarian home.

winter nights are still longer even darker? So much darkness, I have never experienced. I think and feel this old man: Jach, the suits but at the moment! But when has it ever not fit? Was there ever a sunset or a volcanic eruption that was not in harmony with the universe?

I always say: "My philosophy is not practical. Before I did not answer a few questions of existence, I can not follow my thoughts. Because I do not know what I think. Everything is possible, everything that takes place in the head. But you live somewhere else. I want this place not live headless. But until I have a head, I'm probably already dead I'm just my indescribable feelings and instincts. "

The sentiment is a plaster on my major head wound. Often performed. Practiced. That is all.

For couples, it is now even more beautiful on the train. I am often driven alone. Begins you to order cheese plates, drinking bad white wine, and break his head over the toilet urgently or through the smell of good shoe barely able to hide from prying noses, but never on our own. After eight hours alone on the train I was getting a bit mad. That's not bad, but you need it every now and be comfortable. I know it yet, But I'm a wreck - a couple I'm a dinner jacket.

The last business meeting last year was my hand, a fit of laughter. The theater in which I'm involved now is a comedy, a bit tragic too, but effective! In the second act! It is the moment when the audience falls asleep, leaving the room dies!, Or is listed for a strong hand in the third act.

The stage freeze in the cold. Like a worm light, the train is in the country. "I do not think should belong, maintain that the properties of a train," he says. No really! He should fly! To the ears of the philistines with their headbands!

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01.02.2010, Friedrichshafen

After the end of the school and then the dream just to be rich and beautiful, after the termination of the study, after the time at which I am - just those that are glorified and more - based on the book and after the hope of all to write one more quickly, in my time at the newspaper now and I stick by accident, more than ever before - almost like a straight jacket - in a different section: Palomar5. I am one of seven, one who joined this later, perhaps only one of a single, in addition to six and a cloud of many, many who embody ideas that defy any fixed handles: Pa-lo-mar-five. And in this way I've never worked so hard. The penetration is almost complete, Palomar is everywhere, twenty-four hours - and up to sleep. my arms can not able to embrace the cause so that I can put doubt in the back fat and put on my heart: And yet the usual problem. What is this? It is full of people together , cooperation explored creativity is what provides the time poured, innovation draws the good harvests - and distributed to the environment . Not my language, not my passion, no interest in others, only the intention to inflate my ball with ether, and to push into eternity, are angry besides, envy rub hands with my fists I imagine hurtful blows to face all me, hate to make the air! As I can breathe, surrounded by the best? How to live, live in time and space? So I stagger through the days, as always, half-euphoric, not half.

"Each and every one of you is a super hero!", I hear.

These days no real mountain climb, time does not draw together tight. The neuverwobnen wear the colors of all the old threads, it's just more, more, more, neither better nor worse - it is true. The unfortunate man is always the goal, and the fortunate has always been a joker. One should just take what is there on the floor. Who has a choice, the better, no reason for anything! "You are emotionally lazy."

Maybe. Yes!

then sweeps past half a year, and it was put together to form a new person. And everything has become a part of it. One thinks one is always for one - and for himself. The holy I . But the soup is placed only once. After that, diluted and mixed.