five thirty two morning notes

28.2.2014

The electric cloche beeps three times and is silenced at once. The light was turned on and--relax a few seconds more.

Some minutes later fulfill the doctors orders, go to the bathroom and search for clothing. The cat is angry, so it gets a little attention. Purring cat, sigh of feline happiness.

The lateness of the hour ! one sees others in the street.

A motor scooter speeds centrally down the pedestrian zone. The sheets are damp.

The bus is due in two minutes, a cyclist approaches and car overtakes, another is parked. Stand still-untill the confusion has passed, and the fear in the face of the cyclist has been replaced with laughter.

The bus driver looks like something out of the gutter, a wet rat maybe. He gets his money and gives his ticket. He is a self important person.  The stupid pratt.

- Anastasia is serving today at Yorma's. A smile goes a long way, the day is saved.

On the way to the station there are five brigades and firemen, police, and paramedics everywhere. Something must have happened, who knows what. Because of the seasons revelry, there are many late night drinhers emulating early morning barflys.

No time for speculation.

The train is so choppy today in its mechanical efficiency. All appears to be working.

The coffee is empty in Moos Burg, 

the crushed cup lands in the tangle in the waste bin, 

the girls in the neat opposite are just catching up with the last seasons fashions. Sleeping to personal electronic entertainment, using devices created by people who earn astronomically more than us and made by people who's daily wage would not even cover our costs of going to work.

        The train rolls on, There are already people getting out of their seats in preparation of disembarking at Fraising: 'A steady hum and train speeding sounds, a new recorded message, Formica covered tables.

        The announcement is made, leave for the local train..

        All the surroundings are strange today, it must be because it is the last day of the month. There are fewer people, there are different people.

        There is no white lady to talk to today, that is Wy the further route to work  is appearing here. The local train is in Pulling now, the doors open, someone gets on board, the ten warning whistles sound and the doors close. The train moves off... The next stop, some kilometres on, will be New Fern.

Please leave on the left.

Bus numbed 690 from Neufwhm to Gar Ching.

It is the last day of the month. There is an overpowering stench of stale tobacco, the man in the seat behind sucked the last smoke out of his cigarctte before boarding the bus. The smell hangs in his hair, his clothes.

The joys of public transport.

There will be no going to work for  a week as of today.

That is good. 

four thirty two morning notes

27.2.14

        The cat-the-late wakenerr. She was hungry, the clock was silent again. It was so late, clothing was applied in a daze, cat was fed. All before wakening, really.

Really disordered

Really late.

The leather shop in the street all brightly lit.
lit all night with Elly Dee lamps.
Bright.
The bakers boys  delivering,
using trucks and ramps and trollies
Heinz, Mueller and Mareis.

No good morning lady
The fast small girl with the big white hat slunk past slinkily.
The man who greets, untalking, being talked into the ground by an incessantly voluble and earnestly gesticulating young woman with blond hair.
He appeared tired.
Bus.
The long haired smoker, outside the square says good morning.
Butterbrazen and Coffee, yormagirl overfriendly.
Better than unfriendly.

nonverse converse.
Today is rough.
Tomorrow last day at work for a whole week.

three thirty two morning notes

26.2.2014

The technical failure of the electronic clock, its voice void. At eight past five, it was habit that started the routine. The sound of the cat feeding in the kitchen was strange. Zelda normally asks, or demands more before checking the contents of her dish. Things are not always the same, but are the changes worth recounting?

True to form, the dear cat returned and complained, wanted more food, maybe attention too.

Left the house, there were yellow waste bags everywhere. waiting for collection by the bin men.

        The mostly blackly dressed girl approached the bus stop-Stiding at a great pace, high speed. Flat shoes black headscarf. The one with the big white hat too, walks along mincingly, but with purpose. She had her hair in her hat. That is why it looks so enormous.

        The bus driver was chatting with his friends. Took time to take the money and give the ticket. He was balding thin man with glasses.

        The yellow quadrant reserved for smokers  in front of the station, with its customers handing

around outside.. Smokers smoking. Addicts. Their business. 

The coffee and pretzel, breakfast-the mornings medication did not count as such.

        The mosaic maker comes in complaining over yesterdays train. Trains have a hard time, they can never be punctual enough.

        In the seat in the train, the train empty today, yesterdays episode in the s-Bahn local train came to mind:

        The train was filled with the overpowering stench of the previous night's debauchery. One man, asleep in his seat, dressed in a cowboy costume, snoring and  farting and god only hnows what else was the visible source of this assault on the olfactory apparatus. The stench steadily overpowered all in the carriage. and he with his eyes dosed, smiling and happy.. Drunk as a lord, obnoxious, oblivious. The office people, the passengers, became obsessed with the smell, they feared for their perfumed existence  Upon leaving the train they all ran down the platform, as if the smell would follow them and cause them, if caught, to smell too. Holding noses with loud expressions of disgust. The man  probably had serious problems on his continued journey. All the way through the city.!

       
Twenty four hours later, there was a tense apprehension felt among the waiting passengers unwilling to see, hear, or even smell whatever that the local trains had on offer.

"Freisiny, exit to the night" 

no, the right.

two thirty two morning notes

25.2.2014

If it were not for that electronic alarm, sleep woud reign two hours longer.

Wishful thinking. The bathroom, all the washing, shaving and so forth. The happy pill, and the water. It is all the same as many other times. The cat is silent today. There is time. Look at the clock in the kitchen, to check its time. It is still losing it. Twenty minutes in two days. The pendulum will need shortening.

Tonight.

On leaving the house, at the moment the doors are locked, Martins bells toll twice. Half past five. The bakers truck disgorging its contents into the Marais shop in the main street is accompanied by the loud shouts and umbrage of its driver. Maybe he thinks he is alone in the world, In the theater street a young cyclist stops, leaves her cycle, unlocks the door to one of the shops and wheels the cycle into the shop. Not remarkable.

At the bus stop there is no goodmoming lady. Maybe she is on holidays. A very small, very slim, and very blackly dressed young lady passes by, mincing along inter flat shoes. None of these awful high heeled monstrosities. The other small woman with the huge woollen hat with the white tassel on' it walks into town. The hat makes her look as if she is hydrocephalic. Maybe she has long hair tucked away underneath the woolly hat. The good morning lady was not there yesterday either, and today the man with the girlfriend passes alone. => The bus driver lets people out at the front of the his vehicle today. It is a different bus driver.

'The smoker with the hair-

smokes away-

Outside the square.

Good day!.

Yorma is crowded, and there is no Anastasia today. A well-groomed woman with 'Teamleiter" emboldened on her shirt, above where one would presume her heart to be is serving, with the strict darkhaired girl.

Butter brazen and coffee. No novelties.

The train is on time, and full. There are holiday makers going to the airport. with their baggage..

We have reached Freismg. 

one thirty two morning notes

24.2.2014

When sleep is bad, like today, and it is Monday and there was barely time to recover from the previous week and the next one begins, age and slowness are taking their toll.

The electronic clock triggers the mornings program. It is cold today, and there is no wish or reason to leave the bed, which is warm.

All are sleeping. The whole family.

And the cat.

Wash and put the clothes an-The imperative to take a job seriously. At least to appear on time and to be regular about it.

The streets are empty. It is a sleepy day. Hear street doors unlock, there are more people alive, and up, and coming out to commence their day.

The moon is a tiny crescent, and the bus stop is deserted. An errant Mercedes with a rusty body and a noisy exhaust delivers some worker to his or her shop. The bus driver is bald, and punctual.

He closes the front doors at the station and demands that all leave by the back doors, as is proscribed on some notice somewhere. So he is having a bad morning and intends to give everybody a hard time. 

Anastasia remains calm and friendly, she is an her own, and there are twenty customers there at once -> She calls her colleague from the café back rooms, but her colleague does not come. She continues dealing with everyone, with smiles and friendly glances. After some time her colleague turns up, and with the palms of her hands towards the customers in a warding gesture exclaims loudly : "right, who's next".

She may think that the day may begin because she is now there. If this is so, then let her imagine this if it makes her happy.

sunday morning

Sunday morning has a certain tradition of being the morning after saturday night. Saturday night is a night of debauchery, because sunday is a day of no work for any third party. For so many. The whole town was alive with its own population augmented by weekend holidaymakers and tourists. Fun seekers from the surrounding area too. It was lively on the way home.

The cat had no time for all that, she wanted to rest after eating and made noise all night for more food or more attention.
Not hungry, really.

The animal landed in the yard.









Two hours later, at seven loud howls from the stairwell
Let her in and make coffee. Victor gets up and takes over the coffee making. The wife remains sleeping.
Old cat, she wants the radiator.The warmth is one of her central joys.
An old cat with the most beautiful black fur. Rests on the radiator.




Next Sunday she may fend for herseself. Her usual feeding crew, this blogger, his son and his wife will be underway.
All of the week after this coming week.
She will mind the house

all sleep saturday

midnight alarm, five am blues.
it was badly set is all
not turned off.

at six, the cat.
food, attention,
happy cat

at six thirty
cat noises
wife gets up
happy cat

at seven fifteen,
open Bialetti
make coffee
the cat and the radiator
happy cat

Old cat, going for eighteen years.

at seven fifty five thirty five
is now

five thirty one morning notes

dark.

breathing.

clocks ticking 

cat.

calling

bathroom urging

wash

shaving

early morning

car.
driving.
time saving

coffee.
grinding.
cat feeding.

Pouring.
White Apilco cup.

Relax,
Three bells from Saint Martins.
quarter to six, walk down street.
Car, starts too, radio works

cool

four thirty one morning notes

Cat Zelda sat on the bed and looked into the dark, supposedly. Nobody knows! Sounding alarm sounded in a dream modification like a firebell, a siren. Cat croaked like a frog, searched for attention. The change of tense today was imminent, and the light was turned on. Fed that cat, washed the old face, no changes in the night, no strangers awaited in the day.The teeth were cleaned, the shaver was applied. Briefly. Five Thirty five, The streets were wet. Time was passing so slowly, the slimy wet streets and-yes the man with the crutches and the good morning lady were there. One of the three walkers from last year has a new girlfriend this year. His volubility and her silence walk past. There was no change for the bus driver today, he had to change a note.

        The mosaic maker in the cafe was not alert today, as if something was wrong. The people talked about the weather and the railway services,  about work. There was no sense of immediacy about anything. No urgency "boarding trains. The small diesel train from Rosenheim was in already.:, disgorging its passengers to the platform. It was a rough journey, noisy, like every day.

        Those dark blue squares on their light blue ground, the velveteen seats of the railway company, promising comfort they could not deliver, were sparsely occupied. The well dressed, sleekly combed long haired man in the seat opposite ranted on in a continuous monotone about the injustices of work, he got progressively louder and louder. The extra moosburg passengers did not fill the train either.

and before we reached our destination neighbor blew her nose noisily, she got no word in at all.

        He shut up for thirty seconds. 

three thirty one morning notes

19.02.2013

the land of Nod. Bastet, the Egyptian cat god, no sleep. no energy. The cat at night, wants food, doesn't eat. Aimless wandering. No joy at the thought of the day. Move to manage the days adversity. The morning café, all those here have serious expressions, glancing grimly at clocks, consulting watches. 'it seems a good day for a mass depression. All things appear slower today * 'The light in the train is dull, greenish yellow... People doing things with their mobile telephones, not telephoning, sending missives through space informing others, of their being,their existence.

The train itself-has technical problems.. It rolls out late.

so far this day would have been best spent in bed. The muttered announcement over the loudspeakers, barely intelligible, confirms this...

Details of the morning appear coated in a grey veil, hard to distinguish and easily forgotten. The blue and white limp balloons outside the new baker shop spring to mind. They have lost air over the last few days, but they still find use. Will the proprietor sell his wares according to the same principle? Perhaps. Why is this tuesday terrible? Is this a case of the viewer tainting all that he describes with his foul humours? The good morning lady back at the bus stop was friendly enough, though she never says anything else but good morning. Today is an amorphous day with no highlight. There is no tangible reason for this,.

It will be no more than a succession of phatic utterances. An insipid mass of low level co-existence, each and every one fighting against the time that takes their lives. 

two thirty one morning notes

18.02.14.

Good morning for a cat. She is punctual, sits at the end of the bed waiting for the clock to sound. It does and she starts. Get up, feet first and see to the mornings happy tablet. Go to the kitchen, feed the cat, and off to the bathroom. Shower. 

Warm. Return to bed, the wife's awake and the light is off. Find the switch in the dark and turn it bade on again. Find clothing, get dressed and get out It is past Martins bells: The streets are bare, greasily gleaming cobblestones. Past the church there are people wandering around, many possibly still asleep.

The bus is early, the driver is listening to stupid melodies on his radio. He takes his money, gives a ticket. The usual morning people pass by outside, the good morning lady is not among them today.

The new building for the vocational school on the right, austere and businesslike in its sterile cleanliness, with all of those wall panels fitting perfectly neat to each other.

A self conscious smoker stands alone in the designated smoking area before the railway station. This is a yellow square delineated in road marking paint on the space tutored between road and steps. There is an ash tray on a stand in the squares centre. No shelter, isolated. Anastasia is back at the cafe. She is tired today, no smiles. Probably getting used to the job.

What a pity.

The tattered buttered pretzel is muh as it always is, highly rubbery, very buttery. Every day. the name thing, it is better than their garlic and salami roll, which tastes of old fat and dry bread...

        Train time again. 

one thirty one morning notes

17.2.2014

Blackout between one and five. Complete and utter oblivion. The clocks beeping is the first thing after one in the morning. add the sound in the head goes on. is it maddening or is it madness? leave the house, leave the eat, leave chaos behind. Wait for the bus, the same regular people going to their daily work. The strict girl at Yormas, the goo mengen man. No deep philosophy, just people going to their work. getting things done. The train is not as full as it might be, that is good. People reading papers, silence but for the clearing of throats and the groans of slow moving carriages.

A female voice over the speakers welcomes the passengers to the express, and informs that the next stop will be Moosburg. People listening intently to their telephones. It is good that the music. is inaudible, with just the rumble of the trains wheels and the whine of its electric motors to be heard.

Empty the coffee mug, then smash the paper cup no that it fits into the tiny waste receptable let into the table. That was nice coffee, now its gone..

There is no rythm in these mornings anymore, no sense of achievement, just a grey dutiful mass of amorphous movement. Like honey from a spoon, only in its movement. The analogy stops there, for there is. nothing golden translucent about these mornings.

Mans voice announces moose-B. That is probably a recording. Please leave to the rght, so many most respectable people, smelling of smoke and aftershave. Churchills dark pet has bitten, and 'is gnawing away at the root of all evil.

There are no bright spirits this morning. 

sun day, no sun, son up early

grey sunday morning, sleep with zolpidem, wake with fluoxetin,
a code no one fully understands, but it seems to work.
Son is up doing his weekend things, making coffee.
it is eight in the morning.
The cat wants attention.
blog this.
who cares?
look at the alps today.
that is the plan.
The streets are wet, the sky is grey.
St Martins bell tolls once.
quarter past.

sadder day fifteen two

toss and turn at two, at three, at four, five sleep smell of coffee seven son up.
get up cat out.

blue coffee breakfast made by son

black coffee in white cup
Son watches mouse movies on television.

Simple things well explained.
No frills
No stupid analogies.

Straight neat and funny.

Ear whistle day
Right ear a steady hiss.
Fill dishwasher.

Good Morning
Grey day

thirtieth morning notes

14.2.2014

Insistent clock and cat, tablet water. The cat is so desperate that she cracks her head to the bottle. It makes a sharp noise. CRACK. She is silent for two seconds.

Feed her. Fed her. Wash.

Procedures as everyday. Wife awakens. Lights out.

Wait.

In the street, twin peals from the bells of saint Martins, count the steps, at three hundred-loose count.

In the main street there is a slow police car.

Past the bakers, a fat man drinking coffee inside.. There is a sound of loud voices from the bus stop. Two men, one in a tee shirt and no jacket, the other in a jacket with no tee shirt attempt to stop the traffic, to hitch a lift. May the fantasy work and wonder as to how they got into such a state. Loud imprecations follow every passing car. The one with the jacket attempts to warm the one in the tee shirt, and recieves a barrage of criticism as to his somewhat obscure homophiliac aims. Both are frozen, there is frost everywhere. They are probably quite drunk. One tries to call a taxi as the bus comes. They get onto the bus and drive three stops.

Could have walked. They don't pay the bus fare, the driver wisely ignores them.

The coffee was ordered, is being drunk in the cafe, on the train. The welcoming loudspeaker, female voice today, rounds as the train leaves Landshut station. Can existence be reduced still further, do we greatly want to reduce our lives to a regular clockwork that, in itself, knows no future and no past. The female voice belonged to the ticket collector,- and she  collects tickets. 
NOW!

thirtiet morning notes

13.2.2014 tobe corrected

Awake in panic, the old sounds, the normal everyday sounds not recognised.. Wake and turn the beeping alarm off. The cat is on the bed complaining-Swallow the medium,-drink the water, feed the cat, take a shower, back to the bedroom and-the bloody light is off. So the wife had thought that I was gone. Wrong. Light on, clothes found, dress lights off.. Cat wants attention again. Rearrange the catfood left in the cat sbowl. Cat happy.

Down the street, after the church an non-illuminated bicycle hisses past on the pavement, the driver in a hurry. It is raining.count the steps between the baker and the bus stop.

The baker is getting ready for a grand opening of his refurbished store. It is 170 steps.

Black tights protruding from a red umbrella pass. No face visible.

good Morning, and here comes the bus. The effusive driver, Redseliig, chatty joking. I wonder what he is taking... 'If known it would be a warning never to take that,

At the cafe in the station the coffee is free dioday. Start a new discount card on Monday. The train comes in on time and remains in the station for a quarter of an hour more  than it should. The fat parents in the neighbouring seat discuss food with Theirnot so fatson. He is concerned over their eating too much meat. Oh well, they probably do.

The announcement in the speakers apologises for the delay. 

thirtie morning notes

alarm cat, alarm off
no work today, collection from Augsburg.
no real joy, what for?
tablet and water anyway.
up at seven, time enough for the work at hand.
Sons alarm groans
off to school


make my coffee
Ear whistle.

no bus today no routine

thirti morning notes

11.2.2014

The purring and complaining shortly before five, the alarm and feed the animal. The usual ablutions, all the same as always. Different in details, but broadly the same.

 Take the jacket without a hole in the inside lining. Cat wants more, gets more. The first of those expensive led lights has blown. They are supposed to last for years. So much for sales talk. On leaving the sound of excited voices from the street. Two women on bicycles, they well wrapped against the cold, pass. A car, passes on the main tweet, driving slowly, its driver has respect for the pedestrian zone. Hoe unusual. Shortly before the bus stop a man with crutches on his quadripedal way: Hear him talk and chatter to the good morning lady. As the bus comes they pass. Tell out the money for the bus driver, he is effusive and witty. Talkabout a ticket fresh from the presses and similar nonsense. 

The stations smokers square is empty, all the smokers defiantly standing outside its perimeter. A kind of half-assed civil disobedience. The holding of wing doors at the entrance to the station hallway, so that they do not swing back in the next persons face.

Miss Efficiency with the dark rimmed glasses serving today. Fast and gives the discount stamp. "free" coffee to-morrow.  Terrified of the days progress, the days medication forgotten feeding the cat. The fear of mood charges; loss of contro. jayppur . The building worker who has turned out to be a mosaic maker in Munich wishes me a good morning. She is her chatty normal self, bright and entertaining, with a large styrofoam package held together with multi-coloured string. The day has begun badly, with forgetfulness. Let it end well. this evening. 

This is an early morning without the ears whistle and hiss.

thirt morning notes

Nightly waking daze, furry black cat in a fury over food. Pet the animal abit and it commences to preen' itself. Four fifty three. This is not a normal hour. Five and up.

Cat expects its food. In the kitchen, stir up the food left in the cats bowl. The animal is satisfied and eats its old slop.

Medicine taken.

Shower, dry the floor and dress up. All in one motion f. Find the pen, pack my books, and leave.

Town is empty. The small girl with the white knitted hat passes on her way into town. The good morning lady. The river is smooth and calm today, the lights, and the illuminated hotel wall reflect in the water. Pay the driver.after boarding the bus. The announcements on the bus are chopped in a digital way. "Naechste ha-hee ha-hee halt, Sta-Sta-Sla-Stu-Stadt pa-papa-park." Strange. The lone dark haired girl in the cafe, serving, does not understand. Repeat order, HU Oh.

Today is cold, depressing. Tiresome. Train timely. Sleeping commuters, listening to music, one reading a paper and one staring at the computer. Staring in a fixed way at the screen, immobile. Moosburg.

More commuters. Struggling for seats. But not as many as usual. Enough to fill all the frees seats.

Waves of nausea, tiredness, tinnitus, all things considered, a horrible monday morning. The Three newcomers, two women and a man; all commence to play with their mobile telephones, or to answer their messages, 0k or god only knows what. This is lousy. Feel ill. go to work anyhow. 

day of no rest,

son up three am,
cat at two,
tooraloo,
wife feeds her,
Upstairs downstairs,
 in my ladys chamber

At four am:
son puts out the cup and saucer,
Breakfast at four?
NO, bad idea, sleep at least till six!

Nine am he is  still asleep.
good.

A clear nights sleep would be fine

Sat, ur day

short message syncopation, meeow and hint, cat up early, hungry, tears a dream of pleasant interaction with a female of the same species to shreds. Pavlovian conditioning, only different.
A mobile phone with a catlike calltone could cause amusing reactions.
Later, the small man runs around hunting feline fodder, finding none.
Disgust.
routine of rise and medication wash and dress.
go.
Town bright.
Early shoppers, late shop owners.
Play in the lottery.
The man before me wins five euros.
Good for him.
Buy ticket, good morning. All the other players wait in queue.
Get cat food and toothbrush in the Mullermarkt.

Depressing.

Go to bakery get some bread rolls.
Brazens.
Put butter on them later.

at breakfast.

twenty ninth morning notes

7.02.2014.

cat-cat out to stairwell.

alarm-alarm off.

Shower, dry floor.

get dressed,

cat in.

Find glasses

Through Streets.

Routine.

The man behind Karstadt's pillars smoking, a Strange, unkempt individual.

At the bus stop a small girl approaches in a large woolly hut and fashionably ripped trousers. She proceed on past the man at the department store. He commences to strut, feigning nonchalance, his arms slightly akimbo, his upper body swaying from side to side.Is that a reaction, or does he always do that. It looks ridiculous, next thing he will maybe commence preening his hair.

good Morning. guess who?

Bus. Usual driver, friendly...

Railway station has a stuck door again. Broken. Overuse.

Two lids on the coffee today. By accident, and no some minutes are spent trying to separate them without spillage.

Success.

Blog. Train is on time too. And quite empty. There is free space at a table, with rnftiaent space to write these notes. The young girl opposite is asleep. She has a file on her knees with-schoolwork and her name and class in school written on its spine.

P. M. 11LB. Useless information.

The ticket ebllector arrives, and wakes her. She shows her ticket and goes back to sleep. Apparently instantly. The stop in Moosbarg takes no longer than a minute The new passenger who sits down opposite has a plastic thermos mug. Supposedly drinking coffee. She has darkly framed glasses. With corners. The smoker with the hair, the man from the Landshut - smokers square, is involved in discussions with his friends. They are all just across the aisle, sitting at one of the tables. Chatting, explaining. Managerial office talk...

Apart from the girl with the coffee, the remainder of the carriage is sleeping.

Sleeping into a day of work.

Neat stop Freising.

Please pay attention the Loudspeakers. Please 'leave. on the right

twenty nint morning notes

Felix domestica in situ est. And drives sleep out. Jumps on the bed and makes cat eat complaints.

Off down the stairwell with her.

Bathroom.

Lights on in stairwell. Sound of the cat excavating its out tray. The cat comes in later, all purrss and grunts. After five feed her. Bathroom, wash and wake. Shake and bake? Wife awake, good morning. The cat noises would awaken anyone. Martins twin bells ring-It is the same hell twice, not twins really. lt is half past.

The street is empty. At the church there is a white van, with sounds of tidying in the rear, from its loading buy. Two pigeons in theater street, the first of this years crows. The friendly good morning at the bus stop-As every day but slightly different everyday. Give thc his driver his money. Get a ticket.

Bus daze.

Railway. The longhaired man and the orange haired elderly teenager. She is wearing black leather today, or oilskins Hard to say in this tlght. Anastasia is back today. Her smile is shorter today, it is busy, and Their seems to be tension there between her and the other. waitresses. Oh well, food. The goo meng man and the woman with the flat face chat. Hand bag and stool there too. Building worker arrives. Platform.

Board.

A young woman sits down opposite. wish, An owl pendant, black owl around her neck. Five glittering: studs in her right ear, all different sizes. Dark rimmed glasses. Redtop, black hair and trousers The cords of her ear speakers are red too. So carefully, lovingly styled...

after Moosbuvy she hides her face behind her jacket, which is hanging on its hook by the window. Sleeps,

There are many in the train just killing Time. It is their choice to waste it. 

twenty nin morning notes

5.02.2014

Alarm, beeper, off! light on and sit up. take medicine and drink water.

        go to bathroom, shower. Make sure that the floor is not wet afterwards. Dry hair.

Cat silent.

START.

Martins tinkles twice. Past martins church, see a man running around the corner at grimms kitchen store, trying to pound his paunch into the ground. Doing a round or two before breakfast.

The guten morgen woman of the bus stop, says it. The bus is there. Pedestrians hurry past. Bus driver gives change.sit and think.

Of nothing.

coffee at the station. Yesterdays dark haired girl is alone today, dealing with everyone.

Efficiently.

The goo meng man is in place, wearing his shullkap. Friendly fellow with a polished face.

- Notes are taken and a lid for the coffee is found.

 Platform.

Pushers and jostlers, best seat people. Their life circles around the fear of the missed chance, they have eyes for nothing else.

seat.

couple opposite with identical BMW Rucksacks pull out their Apple smartphones, plug in their earphones; Close their eyes. Block their ears.

Fold their arms.

Ticket inspector.

Inspects.

Mooshurg.

Sent to the right is occupied.

The carriage jerks and starts and wobbles. Makes writing difficult. Typing would be a bore. There must be sixty people here, all with their eyes closed, killing the time untill he train gets to where they are going....

To the days work...

The taped announcement announces the next stop

Freising.

Please leave on the fight. 

twenty ni morning notes

the sensation of not having slept and then being torn out of sleep by an insistent beeping. The routine, the light, the medicine the water to clear it down. Find fresh clothes, dean away yesterdays, wash and shave. The cat is silent today. The sound of the Brillie electromagnetic dock beating out its thirty seconds one after another. In time to a half-second pendulum. At half past, down the stairs. The cat has left a heap in the middle of the passage. It is getting old. No time to clear it away. No bells today. On the way to the bus stop only one pedestrian. No delivery trucks. It is quiet. good morning at the bus stop.

        Just before the bus arrives a small, bandy- legged woman wearing a lumpy coat with a hooded sweatshirt and carrying an utterly mistaken rucksack covered in colourful print. Let her on the his first. She has a hooked nose and matted, unkempt hair. She gives her money, does something complicated trying.to make up the change for the driver. She is hunch-backed and has more lines in her foce than a relief map of the Alps depicts.

The bicycles are now parked everywhere in front of the station. They seem like hundreds. The stands are already full.

        New young girl at yormas. Crisp, efficient manner, almost rude. Fast and forgetful. Go to the same table as every day,  and start to write these morning notes in the grey book.

The goo meng man smiles and looks friendly.  After two years a friendly glance like that means a lot. These are a conservative people, they have their curiousity under control.

On the way to the platform a young girl walks down the platform wearing bright dayglo green suede boots and a likewise orange dayglo scarf. Dark tights and a rain jacket complete the outfit.
Is this an omen?

twenty n morning notes

3.2.2014

'Nyx Nap, steep dark dreams, Morpheus active all night. Tinnitus gone, know not why. Icaria cannot miss the silly cow, constant gas jet in the right ear. gone. Even careful probing cannot find it. The beauty of it, when it is gone.. So glad, sleep on until half past, get dressed in a flash, son staggers past, grin, leave house and down streets. Streets deserted. The reflection of the waiting bus around the bend is visible in the shop window.

Run. Run!

Fumble giving change for the fare. 'At the station, there are so many people. Monday morning. Must be.

- Fast coffee friendly, too much butter on the butter brazen.  Oh well, this happens.

        Big new feature: The timetable is now shown on one of the screens in yormas. Seems like a good idea. There are enough screens there, showing their various products. Now there is actually something to read

        - go to the platform, leave the crowd in the station. White faced girl with brown legs slowing through the rips in her trousers. She is wearing a white woolly hat,. Finish off the coffee, and wait.

Wait.

The train is just a bit late.

Doors open. Step in.

The system is in control.

sit down opposite a very neat and clean cut policeman. Strange crest with three lions on a yellow base.. Clothing in impeccable, pristine order. so well ordered that it is not real. Pride in the new blue-black coloured uniform.'

Moosburg passes, people get in. One left standing in the  aisle. Subdued conversation.

Freising is announced. 

Sund ay tu tu faw tin

maunz no sleep croak mir how.
keep it up for quarter of an hour,
dormitor dynamite sleep so dear,
subjective starvation felix feels,
catzelda crys in the realms of dreams,
ease out to realtimeme, kitchen so near,
open tin fill catbowl zeldafed.
return to bed.

No sleep now, tooraloo, kitchen.
son up, makes coffee, trys coffee,
too young, too bitter, try it parent!
Strange mixture strange taste.
Coffee grinding in old, hand cranked machine.
hoping unpoisonous, childish experiments.

oneTwofourteen Saturday

Datterday
Saturday
sleepday
homeday
coffeeday

day day