1-37 morning notes

31.3.2014

With an almost bizarre sense for the end of daylight savings time, the cat crows two minutes ahead of the alarm.

It gets its food. alarm off.

Bathroom and shower..

Clothes, on change jacket.

The Brillie is running fast.
The street holds no surprises, it is dry and the leather shop is in full illumination, showing large handbags, probably the height of fashion. The television is running over the sewing machine shop  Early risers or late homecomers there.

The" good morning" at the bus stop is her usual self-The beginning of the week after a Sunday 

 filled with the result of time banditry.

Lose an hour.

The yellow square inside the station plaza

        inhabited by the

man with the long hair

and another, throwing his ashes on the ground

beside the ashtray.
A new girl at Yorma's,

new to the job. Slower. than the one who actually gives service..

The same people as

everyday in the cafe, no

real charges there.

If the day is as boring

as this, it will be a

long one.

        The end of

        daylight saving

means that the

sun no longer rises

during the journey to

work.

Maybe later, in the summer 

Time thief sunday

cat 'owl,
nocturnal attention deficit, whereby feline inattentiveness is not the problem, but the desire on the part of the pet cat for manual attention and degustative pleasures, is. A normally silent animal making loud noises to achieve an end.
Nocturnal Feline Boredom.

that radio controlled alarm says that it is eight. Watch says seven. Set watch, feed cat go to the bathroom, and when all is done, wash.
Set all the free, mechanical clocks.
The Brillie horloge mare, with its rapid little half-second pendulum, the Telefonbau und Normalzeit Mutteruhr with its stolid three quarter second pendulum and its utilitarian German oaken case, the small quartz alarm clock too, all get set one hour later. Collection of electromagnetic, previous-century clocks.

This chore done, disturb the son
He is interfaced to the computer again.
Many-facetted machines, with bright sides and dark sides,

Sunday

Sunny day less one hour.

saturday flea market day

The normal awakening time today to feline reckoning is inhuman in fact due to there being no work today. Stroke its head to produce a satisfied "prrrprrrprrr" and return to hypno´s arms.
Two hours later, son in front of the computer and-
the whole family wants to go to the local flea market.
Bialetti charged, twocups and go.

Brocante is the french word for flea market or flohmarkt in german.
We don't buy fleas.
The cat procured them free.
Now-
Feline fully flea free.

5-36 morning notes

28.3-20/4.

There is a faint memory of the mornings alarm remaining, fading into all the other memories of that beeping box. After a night of deep sleep and short wakefulness the cat presents its morning performance, keen on food and on those petting units... 'The bathroom with the cold floor, the cold wash and that old shaving machine with its rotating knives and cutters. and that puffy grey-haired face in the mirror with half closed eyes..

        The cat fed, the glasses found, the jacket donned. the bag over the shoulders; and the stairs descended. The light is cool and grey in the street.

        The bus stop and the." gumong" lady waiting. Five runners in day. glo safety clothing run across the footbridge to the island in the river., Who are they? 4-group of friends, maybe, doing something for their health at five thirty, running as stray coloured lights in the pre dawn grey.

'six in the morning.

Bus and short-haired, near shaven, driver today. The  man with the hair gets his good merger • and the Yorma's service it's usual efficient self. Who was Yorma? No idea. She has a chain of railway station cafes named after her.

The small group with the gow mengen man; the pretty office girl with the black hair, the woman with the flat face and the pretty mosaic maker are all there today.

Could join them. Prefer to watch.

Train with the portable potable coffee.

Roll into the day. 

4-36 morning notes

Hypnos, the headwinged. His rule ended by mechanical and electrical intervention. A comparison between radio signal and internal data caused the clock to beep.

The cat to come and meeaw

The light to be switched on.

Ended sleepinga well and deeply.

Beep Beeply.

The cat to be fed

After eating half of its food the cat returned in complaint mode. Perhaps the foodies not good enough, maybe the animal is just not hungry enough.

leave into the predawn day, seeing those things  to be forgotten soon, not even to be memorised because of their everyday appearance. Did the birds sing? No knowing no more.

The good morning lady, the girl in the black tights and the flat shoes, the man walking into town with the incessantly chatting woman at his side.

A near traffic incident amuses.

Squeak and horns

The bus driver has had a haircut. Is almost shaven, superhort for summer..

Relief at yesterdays discovery that the head has nothing in it other than free thoughts and those things that should be there. No aneurismalic items, no tumours, growths, clots, or others. Just bone, brain; body fluids, fat and all that regular gang.

At yormas cafe, Anastasia is on kitchen duty. Her head shows out the door, retracts tortoise-the. A loud metallic noise follows,. The.-humourers comments  the other girls make are there at once, a sneering tone is prevalent.

        The good-looking mosaic worker joins her colleagues, and the office girl with the long black hair uses her stool for its designated purpose, and not to rest her handbag on.

As the train leaves Landshut the sun rises.

6:11.

and by 6:27, Moosburg is far behind, and the houses of Langenbach stand like cutouts against a cloudless blue sky, bathed in deep yellow light from the sun  placed just above the crest of a hill...

Freis ivy. 6:32 

3-36 morning notes

3 up

cat on mat.

mee ow

pet a bit

to da loo

cat in bed

purr purr

pet purr pet purr

sleep.

beep.

cat on mat.

same procedure.

get up

make coffee

butter bread

feed cat.

head bricklike

doctor today.

wednesday

tinny hissi in ear

like the gas cooker.

no daily bus and train drain today

2-36 morning notes

bip bip bip
press de button
cat makes noise
ligh switch on
pet cat head
cat now silent
now get up
feed the cat
bip bip bip
switch clock off
Bath room wash
tinkle tinkle tinkle
scrub the teeth
sort out things
put on clotes

feel very awful
leave the house
Bakers speeding vans
orange street cleaners

good morning lady
man on crutches

bus
yorma
train
Moosberg

Frysing

1-36 morning notes

24.3.2014

Cat on bed, feline watchfulness. Waiting until the tin- opener wakes.

At the sound of the beep, get up and look. The cats dish is half full. Stir it up and put it down again. The cat takes one look, then she looks up with a glance that questions human sanity and seriousness.

After the shower, set the clock and leave the house. Rain.

Sounds of bicycle brakes.

The bus driver remains friendly despite there being no change for him. He gives his change and the ticket.

There were no birds today. they took shelter and shut up. No good morning either, maybe still in holidays.

The railway station in the rain is even more depressing, them the railway station in the dark.

Anastasia is serious today, still, her smile is back as she reaches over the coffee and "pretzel.

The train is some minutes late. The couple kissing on the platform. He pops his head forward, she back. another peck forward. Contact . He closes his eyes, she rolls hers.

This is probably the end of what might have been a great relationship.

The train is quilt, dark and dull..

The lights go on as we enter Macsherry. It is brighter outside now too. 

Soggy sunless Sunday

sleep sound and near dreamless.

a sleeping aid.

It would not happen otherwise.

up at seven , the cat regardless,

wants to be fed.

feline normality as all the days.

tinned catfood of her choice,

attention routine.

cleaning Bialetti and charging process.

Rainy rainy day today drips and dribbles to be heard everywhere.

Ticking clocks and purring cats

son playing the piano.

sunterday on saturday

early lazy saturday,

light in the window,

the sky still grey.

the cat wants feeding,

Back to bed and wait for the sun

Son looks at me with the same look, at age nearly ten years,

As the look that he gave me when he was nearly ten minutes old

five thirty five morning notes

21.3.2014

Human feeding machine nocturnal cat trampoline. Tramped-animal. Cat not a camel, that cat has no tail. But that is another tale of woe. It has no humps either

The clothes, the pills, the nasal spray. All of those things are correctives, not a cure.

The strange bird at the bus stop, with its staccato warning is a tiny black and white animal. So small, so noisy. The godtenmorgen madam has her suitcases with her, today is Friday.

The bus driver is an idiot. A small man higher benyaelf important, doing what he can to make life hard for people just getting on with their job. Dour and unfriendly.

The tinney Tussi has gone this morning. Just gone. So hustle on, inability to deal with concentration things.

Leave the bus driver to his bus; Coffee at the cafe, nothing tastes good today.

Drink it anyway.

A noble lonely half moon accompanies the train in downs landscape.

Apart from the mechanical noises of the train, there is silence.

Nobody talking at all. There are few people on board.

Now the squeaks at pivots, joints and springs, all parts of these carriages are irritating.

There is an attentive sensation of malevolence in the surroundings, in the vehicle as the run rises over the chemical factory at Musbury. There are few people on the platform, even the car park is near deserted..

The distance and time involved in getting to and from the place of work both become longer and more painful with every

passing year. 

four thirty five morning notes

20.3.2014

Pet the cat to shut it up. Four-ten in the morning..

Cat starts again.

Pet the cat to shut it up. Four: thirty in the morning.
Cat starts again

Pet the cat to shut it up.
 Four fifty in the morning, the cat is persistent and patient.

At five, lights on, tablets and bathroom.

Feed the cat.

Slobber.

good morning to the wife. She is up early today.

Pack the things and unlock the door.

lock the door behind  again.

Birdsong in the street, or a whistle in the rooftops. There is hoping and whistling in the silence of the empty streets. Is it a nightingale, or is someone keeping parakeets? Or budgerigars? Or is it the Beatles blackbird? wherever the bird is, it sounds like the birdsong from the white album. Past the church, the girls at the Mareis bakers-cum-cafe are putting the cloths on the tables in the street already.

It will be warm today.

At the bus stop there is a bird to be heard whistling one note, repeating regularly, like the staccato warning of closing train doors. The bird keeps it up, probably long after its song is drowned by traffic noise.

Good Morning

scones and coffee, this may be one of todays highlights. Blog whilst the television shows news of missing airliners and 'what may well turn into the new Crimean war. DER KRIM- KOWFCLIKT.

An absolute horror, the thought of it.

Train leaves at daybreak, and rolls into the growing day.

At Moosburg, the sun has risen, the sky is almost clear. It may well be a day for late risers wearing shorts and sandals.

The day will show what frustrations it has in store,as time passes like a surface in a fourth dimension. 

three thirty five morning notes

having slept badly at night, and  due attention had been given to the alarm clock, the cat, the shower and the cupboard a cup of coffee appeared sensible today being a day on which the car is to be taken to work, in order to collect the repaired Korg for sons piano practice from the electronics repair man.
This cup of coffee having been made in the big Bialetti coffee italien typ aluminium on-stove espresso machine it was poured into a cup to be drunk black as the heart of its maker, sitting alone at the breakfast table in the near dark considering the lights from the street and thinking about the struggling superiors at work.
Self important idiots.
Swollen brains barely fitting in their cranial cavities camouflaging their small-minded stupidity.
But they pay. So let them be.
Drink the coffee, think of other things.
Thin tinny tussy for example, she is back as a steady whistle in the right hand ear.
another nuisance.

The street has piles of yellow bags in front of every entrance, and a man in a bright orange overall is rearranging them all, ready for collection.

The car is blue, and dawn has broken.

two thirtyfive morning notes

18.3.2014

Bip and caterwail. The cat has learnt not to disturb before the bip bip of the clock.

To du loo, feed da cat and put the clothes on. leave for the street,

 Pen forgotten. The light is still on in the doorway

        - Showing the way back home.

There are many at the bus stop today. guten Morgen. The bus driver, bald man with a moustache. Still, he has hair about his crown. The bus journey itself has so gone over into routine that it would be difficult to remember details.

Due to the warm weather, there are many more bicycles at the railway station. The smokers yellow pound is deserted. The door to the station hall is jammed open. Blondie yorma-boss today. For a petite she has a gruff voice, unexpected strong accent. Bavarian. She did not understand the Anglo-Irish" butter brazen". She gives a charming smile after all that. The railway carriag rolls on into the

now brightning day, with the recorded announcer and the jocular ticket collector. Men sleeping, or playing with mobile computers.

One writing this blog into a book at grey paper.

Coming into Moosburg the full moon is visible over the 'housetops, glowing through the brightening mist. 'Another month has passed. "Like a dock, that was built to show the elapsed time, advancing to the measure of the time and would finally appear to be the creator of time itself... Much credit to a non-sentient mass of brassy cogs and wheels, springs and pendulums.

Tinny tarsi, the old bitch, has receded in be a purely noticeable background hiss. One of the taken drugs, or all in concert are responsible for that.

The joy at her leaving are slightened by the circumstances of her departure:

The loudspeaker:

"Näste station Friving. Es bestehen Umsteigemöglichkeiten zum öffenlichen Nahverkehr sowie der S Bahn" 

one thirtyfive morning notes

non livable nocturnal conditions.
Sleep is a foreign word.
Speak to the medical man
later.
At five, silence the cat.
At seven hear family.
At eight thirty, ring doc, mail work.

this is not a regular monday.

17.3.2014

Tinnitus in the doctors practice, a steady hiss, an irritated nerv. Is psychology the root of this evil, or does it fail to describe the problems? sit wait and blog. The doctor comes in, takes out another patient. Lonely in the waiting room with the photographs of Italian cities in the wall.

Sleeplessness and ear noises.

Like a gas burner, just hissing to itself.

Left the cat at home, the cat was most upset and hungry. It is a good thing that the cat cannot open tins.

sunday, dog day rainy sunday

feed cat cat food at five,
wife feeds hungry cat fed fresh catfood at seven
cat cuddles in the bed

Leaden sky
Son up, his schoolfriend too
Start making coffee.
Objektive:
Keep the parents quiet.

Don`t mind being kept quiet.
Wife brings coffee
good.
Drink, take medicine and leave for street.
Get those breakfast rolls


Neither rhyme nor alliteration in my head today.

Saw a man with a big dog in the middle of the street.
Dog was having a massive shit,
man was philosophically pulling a plastic bag over his right hand.

His face said:
"when will it end"

Dog knows

saturday 34

five  up despite no beeping.
cat irate at human sleeping.

Back to sleep, up at nine
no sun sky grey, all is fine.

head thick like a brick
rough, heavy sick.

Move

five thirty four morning notes

14.3.2014

        Bip and mau, clock and cat, tablet and wash. Quotidian. Daily. The rut in the path of life.

There is no cat food. The tin gets scraped and the consequent slop is fed to Zelda. Short term, short duration feline happiness. Clothes on, Cat back. Noise starts.

Cat is put in the stairwell. Feline contumely.

        Leave the house at five thirty. Too late for the bells, in time for the bus. good morning at the bus stop, the driver gets the money for the drive. He is his usual capacious self,epically loquacious, asking all the time of day..

        Liddel blond girl at the cafe, efficient.. gets the butter besmeared pretzel, puts it in the bag. Anastasia rushes in all smiles and good morning.tv#ow That is good for the novas incipient headache, now forgotten, enjoyed last night at its induction.

        The usual morning guests at the cafe are still discussing the tax avoidance of a football manager. A partisan view of Justice becomes apparent, the wish is loud that she should wear glasses and not be blind. Different rules are discussed for those who wear scarves.

        The timely train takes up its load. It rolls into the glow of the commencing day..

We all may enjoy life in full trains. The train is not actually full, but the pun is intended for the German laser.

There is a light frost on the fields, becoming more- visible after Maesburg

Into the day, the beginning of the end of the week. 

four thirty four morning notes

        13.3.2014

        stay awake for long periods all night, then fall asleep in the morning. In analysis, there is just a lack of enthusiasm for the job.

standing at the supermarket till watching the fingers of the cashier run with regularity after the keys, the till beeps loudly in confirmation of every keystroke. Suddenly the pace doubles.

        Awaken, switch off the clock.

        Light on, sleep on.

        Semiconscious dressing may be a very bad idea, but it is necessary.

#

        Despite all the highfalutin philosophy the bus was missed.  There is no rest for the wicked.

        A tiny mouse on the pavement among the cigarette butts of last nights revelry. Scurrying around, back and forth. No food, no count, just smoked cigarettes... Bad day for that mouse.

        Two cackling hens in there shawls and shirts picking verbally at each other at the bus stop.

        The five fifty six bus makes it to the station on time. No yormas, no coffee.

        No breakfast.

        'Train.

        People on the train talking about the fight of a rich man to avoid paying his taxes.

        Popularity goes a long long way.

three thirty four morning notes

12.3.2014

Purr Pet Katz in Bett,

Stroke its head, Parr, Nett,

ALARM 5:00AM.

Switch off the clock, turn on the light, pull up the knees, drop the feet to the floor, get up, go to the loo, return feed the cat, shower as decided the night before.

Let the cat down the stairs.

A quotidian thing. A near-autistic routine. Check pockets, check clock, check that sick Brillie clock and go down those stairs. Note that the lent-out straps have been returned. Blue. French baggage straps. Leave the house for the street. A cool morning, dark and dry..

        The street passes unnoticed untitt a black stockinged young woman looks over her shoulder, and hurries on ahead, elegantly walking quickly in her flat shoes. She is in a hurry, maybe worried that she is being followed.

She is not.

killer cyclist speeds unilluminated out of a srde street, a dark rider in the service of some job.

As viewed from the bus stop, that black haired, black coated and black-stockinged girl wanders on into the distance, with increasing pedal attenuation as she realises that she is not being followed.

"guten Morgen".' Mogen'-The woman at the bus:stop again.

The bus driver, friendly today, redeems all to the station with felicitations and his kindwishes frae a pleasant day at work. He mentions that the week is half gone already. 

The fat girl at the cafe-'today

fat-fast-friendly and efficient. Takes the money, stamps the ticket and gives the goods. What more could you want?

The butter brazen has a surfeit at butter today, butter everywhere, in this blog book too. Page 24/25 is a mess of' butter stains.

The mosaic maker and her office girlfriend leave for the train.

Wildo follows.

Train empty.

Nearly.

Today will be along day. 

two thirty four morning notes

11.3.2013

Bad'night again.

The cat and the alarm create a seamless transfer to a bad morning Work as it stands is a time-consuming pain in the neck. Wash, feed the cat, take that tablet.'

leave the house.

Goldy shop has a nice display today:-Here is a tailor dummy dressed in clothes from the middle of the last century.

Second hand shop.

Leather shop.

Stamp collectors shop, philately or something.

The streats are deserted, the Ursuline bells tinkle twice and then the bells of saint Martins.

Half past five. Rubbish bins everywhere. Bin-day today. The good morning lady at the bas stop. Smile.

"gulin Morgen". Maybe just 'Magen'.

The bus driver greets-A little bit of friendliness goes along way. The bus drive is a blind rush through the greying streets. A young girl with big black headphones sleeps opposite. The man with the hair, smoking outside the square. Anastasia at Yoman. The day is better than five seconds ago. A smile for everybody goes a long way *

The goo merry man is at his place, and all his friends. The mosaic maker gets her coffee just at six.

The train is punctual today, and it rolls on into the increasingly bright morning. A friendly bald man opposite,. end a plump young man across the aisle with completely unkempt short hair. At Moosburg people get off, others get on.A man who looks like a one-time minister for defence, hopefully does not have a faked doctors title to his name.

The ticket collector does his job as we roll across the frost-white fields towards Freisivg, and the appointment with the local train. 

one thirty four morning notes

10.3. 2014.

The night was a disaster. Zelda howled like a lost thing half the night, she got put out on the street for her pains. Cats need freedom at night.

Alarm at four it was set for France, for the early start friday a week ago.. Fight for the button in the dark. The cat is to be let in again.

Let it in.

Cat cold, cat old. Cat touch.

Oversleep.

Up at 6.08 instead of five.

The hangover of luxury from the all- to-short holidays.

Past the Martins church, 2 hells. Six thirty, one hour late.

The bakers trucks are still there, it is light and the whole street is brightly visible. At the new bakers a delivery man suffers as he bounces an overloaded porters trolley down the stairs at the back of his lorry. The comfort of a lift is missing, the man suffers. Entering the store there is no- ramp. The man suffers.

There is so much more car traffic at the bus station. An endless stream of closed cars, each with one man on board, passes.

The bus arrives, the old lady who had waited at the stop indulges the driver in a conversation.

Payment is made, the ticket given.

The smokers square surrounded by smokers today. At Yormas a friendly" hullo", and order the slimy butter-pretzel, a cup of coffee. Meet the young wizened man from the pub, he goes to work at this time. An hour later, all is different.

The train is five minutes late, the time on the platform is spent trying not to catch peoples eye. Think of the French waiter who's eye could not be caught.  As it arrives the train is a two storey machine,

Sit on top and blog.

At Moosburg two men stinking of old tobacco sit down. Both talk of cars and the work they did on Sunday.

The landscape outside is lit by the low angled early morning sunlight, yellowish; against a clear blue sky, fading to a mushy grey at the horizon. The men both mutter to each other from deep inside their throats, it rounds like a grumble, and that is probably all these heros of suburbia ever really do..

Anyway.

        There are more men on this later train, more office people. More going to Munich.

Freising, change for the local train. Either it leaves before the express, if the express is very late, or it has to leave afterwards. They both use the name track.

There is no point in hurrying, but there are people who run- anyway. Maybe they are in a hurry to get the better seats. That local train is full too.

Next stop Pulling. Please leave on the right. 

Sunday, jour libre zolpidorm

Realization  of wakening floods into the mind like light into a window.
the path to consciousness is unperturbed by any former fretful exhaustion.
there was none, Sleep came and wakefulness came in tow.
Each to its time. Joy at todays release from the fearful fiduciary extortion.

Ra risen, blue orb, son up, wife sleeps. Toora loo.
The method of the descendants downfall warns,

it is 8:03
Bathroom

postholiday homecoming Saturday.

sleep after eleven hours at the wheel yesterday was unamazingly sound, woke at seven, the cat having survived temporary abandonment wants food and makes noises to that effect. Feed el gato Zelda , le petit chat noir, as they would say, and return to bed. It is nine. Wash teeth brush hair.

It is a lovely day today, the weather is as warm and clear as in France. Such weather over all Europe. 

Warm spring

Son up, starts to make coffee. Listen.

he is too young to really drink it, he likes to make it though.

Does it well.

Tomorrow is Sunday, last day of freedom.

one to five thirty three morning notes

sun go west

four am up and shower, prepare for eight hundred kilometers westward. Wife and son up. Goto France.

All packed, make coffee, feed the cat get the car.

holidays.

No work routine today,

and it is much too early for any kind of rhyme.

clear blue saturday

stranger night,
sons project was-
A night up , be up all night.
Nice for children, excitement.

Woke.
Son up
Sun up
Television on
tired son looks at television

Asterix.
Hystericx.

Saturday.

Cat confused.