Day four week forty-two of this blog 2015

30 April 2015

        Dreams of trains, rushing sound of wheels. Alarm, it is not wheels, it air escaping from the mask. Dreams do their best to protect sleep. This one failed, foiled by the alarm on the clock.

        Shower, and brush the teeth. Comb the hair, it is getting longer again. Haircut, at some stage..

        get the clothes on and stretch out on the led for five minutes more. Hear the two martins bells, it is time to go. Down the stairs and out of the door. Dawn lit street, hurry past the church, across the Oldtown street, down the Theater street, and there is the bus shelter, the bus stop, and Dolores within sitting. guten Morgen, Nod. Morose woman.

        Birds are calling Thier early morning messages to each other, from trees and gables and electrical wives spanning the street.

        The bus comes, its headlights catching the very light rain. Pay, and read the local news from the ticker under the advertising screens in the bus.. A man threatened another with a knife for the sake of a glass of beer. Volkswagen dealers will spend three point one Million Euros extending their premises..

        How nice.

        Smoker, pigtailed, outside his squire. Rebellious man of riscty years, or thereabouts.

        Anastasia is happy today, wishes a good weekend. Holiday tomorrow. First of May.

        'Hedgehog is talking to a man with long lair and a beard on his chin, a long beard from The point of the chin. A Viking type of gothic man talking to a Hobbit. They are chatting about building techniques...

        and so to the train, which was delayed today. 

Day three week forty-two of this blog 2015

29 April 2015
Awaken, bathroom, shave and shower.  Note that the order has changed. Shave whilst waiting for the warm water to come on. Check the cameras, the new parts for construction, but then dexide against taking them along anyhow. The pills, for the nose and the mind.The nose that is so much better now for all the  medication.
Leave the house as Martins bells are sounding, two bells for half past the hour, or for the half of the hour as they say here. It is cool, soft light from an overcast sky. Martins church  is looming over the street, as always.
A very fast delivery van comes around the corner, much too fast. A frolic of its own, the driver invisible behind his windshield.

Ther is a broken flower pot in the theater’s street, fallen from an upstairs window. This is strange. There was no wind worth talking of.
Passing through the city gatter, the rumble of tyres on the cobbles, the sound coming from some approaching vehicle, is to be heard.
That delivery truck again, a big van in a big hurry.
Dolores, visibly more tired and preoccupied than she usually is, walks on ahead to the bus shelter.
Hello
Ah

And tha bus driver, friendly chit charitable, No small money today, but he is nice about it.
Smoker in front of the station, at the smokers square, long hair, pigtail.

Anastasia , one glance , the coffee is made. the worker with the curly hair is in one corner, hedgehog in the other. Big Blondy exchanges comments with Hedgehog, calls him „young man“.
He is not amused, really.
It is Wednesday today, with Friday being a holiday, then there is only one day untill the weeks end.
A long weekend to look forward to.
The train stops much further down the platfform than it usually does.
So far down the tracks that it is almost overlooked.
So much for that.
Such an ordinary days ordinary beginning,

day two end of May two thousand and fifteen

28 April 2018

        Wake, the clock says it is ten fifteen. That cannot be, it feels wrong. Lights on, look at the watch. Victorinox says twenty five past five. Very late indeed. Rush to wash, rush everything.. Fresh socks, fresh pants, that is all. And move out. Nearly confuse the keys, taking the wife keys would be a disaster.

        Leave the house, listen to the birds. Hear the birds, no time to listen. Run for the bus, past all the shop people going to work.

        Dolores in on the bus already, she has paid. Morgen. Got on the wrong door, go to the front to pay the driver.

Now. the day may run its course, it is back on track again.

        It is Tuesday, there are many at the station, there is quite some activity. It is a strange day, a tuesday, deus day, chews day . Anastasia, efficient, has the coffee ready before  the words are out to ask for it. Big Blondy and Anastasia are reconciled. There is a young man there too, they are all speaking English for some reason. Their English is far from excellent.

A worker with curly hair, a man wearing artisans clothing, stands drinking his coffee. He is still wearing a winter jacket,  He has been in the cafe for weeks, always at the name time, long curly hair.

Silent. Same plastic bomber jacket too.

The promised change in the weather.is taking place, it is cloudy and damp. There is damp from the drizzling clouds on the front edge of the platform, Ath all the people standing about, expectant of the train. It is late, but why worry? fidgeting will not hurry it at all.

The day that has started' badly is now progressing. normally, boringly. We are late leaving LANDSHUT, roll through a landscape all fresh and green under a flat grey sky, to Moos Burg. So few people board there, the railway strike has taken its s toll, they must all be using their ears.

The day becomes increasingly overcast in these further ten mnutes to ''F reining.

The river Moosach looks well today, running parallel to the railway lines, all the colours are rich, the grass, green and the water slatey gray.

The street's wet. 

Monday, aprils last week,

Yesterdays drinks are todays poison, the morning, it will not allow sleep. The early morning alarm calls, the mask is off already. It is five in the morning, time for a shower. This done, dress up and take this notebook to the living room. The yellow house opposite is well lit by the early sun, the table is quite bare, but for the round yellow place mats.

The alarm in the sons room sounds, it is turned off, and silence.

Later the wifes alarm sounds, and then there are slow sounds of awakening, slow.

The reciepts for the accountant have to be tidied.

Then they are to be sent to the tax office.

day seven week fortyone two thousand and fifteen

seventh day sunday.
The air machine snorting air past the closed lips, hissing.
Seven hours seems plenty to suffer the strictures of a mask strapped over the nose. With it’s tube it is like a prosthetic elephant’s trunk.
It allows dreams to come to a respectable end, not to end in gasps, in panic, in fear of a life about to end in miserable asphyxiation. It is a reasonable compromise, a crutch.

It is a sunny day, a clear day, and it may well turn out hot.

The worry over the spectacles, where were they put last night, the flat is too big and too untidy to go putting things haphazardly.
At the scanning machine . There they are.
The scans last night shows the similarity of the old photograph of the young boy to the equally old bronze sculpture.
The sculpture is timeless, the photo is caught in the stricture of time, and the negative was fading. It is now digitalized and, once the internet sniffs it once, be in stasis until the internet dies.

Son and his friend are in son’s bedroom,
minecraft, or similar.
Sunday, day of rest

coffee maker, bedroom coffee for the wife, stevia and milk, cream coffee colourded.


Good Morning

day six week fortyone two thousand and fifteen

it seems like night yet the light of day reflects off of the glazed balcony next door. It is saturday, day of resuscitation, day of futile attempts to get projects done that were meant to have been done years and years ago.
Day of rest. No, there will be nothing done if today is wasted. Virtue, value,veritability. Truthe and beauty.

Furnished room, contents of the schoolbag on the floor. Son in room, doing his minecraft. With the speed and economy of practice running his left on the keyboard and his right on the mouse, a whirling image of a landscape of blocks on his screen, tunnels, and basic logical constructs, a sort of transistor running on the screen in a software, in turn running on a browser working under an operating system run by some bios, the whole lot running on a mass of wires and components, the local hardware.
Powered by the atomic reactor that steams at five in the morning, visible from the railway platform on the working weekday.
Get the clothes on find the computer, right.
Write.
Make coffee.

It is not easy, but it is all we have, and what we have is so much more than so many can even dream of.
It is not our fault and it is not our doing.

day five week fortyone two thousand and fifteen

24 April 2015

the clock, the light, the machine, put down the mask. The end of sleep, to 'da loo, turn on the shower, get a towel.

Shower Hot and short, dress for the last day of the week. Take these pills and, cream on the nose..

The old t&n dock has stopped yet again. Since Monday. Start it, maybe it will work this time. Another item to be repaired.

The dim light of morning is Brighter than yesterday, it is just barely warmer too..The calls of the birds, and the sound of hte delivery trucks in the sleeping town are all that is, to be available today..

On approaching the bus stop a man is to be seen running away down the tweet. He appears to be fleeing, but why on earth would he?

Dolores is in the bus shelter, Juten Morgen.'

- A short while later she is picked up by a passing ear, the name beamer as the last time.

Today the river and the bridge are visible, the one reflecting the sky on its steaming surface, the other picked out by street lanterns, still illuminated.

Above, there is a huge thunderhead-like cloud of steam, emanating from the distant atomic reactor. It is suapplying the early morning demand for electric power in nether Bavaria.

The two black: tghted Turkish women pass on the way to their kebab place. And the group of shop and office people too.

--Guten Morgen.

The small birds with the loud whistles are calling to each other with short melodies, little sequences of notes, that are picked up from a bird colleague across the street, near the theater, and repeated-

Like an echo.

Anastasia really gives the impression that ale is glad to serve the coffee, she knows already, ahead of the request. 

'A good start to the day. Happy to see her

In the cafe there is a young man in an overall reeking of a strange mix of machine oil and

- sauerkraut- 

day four week fortyone two thousand and fifteen

wake, kill clock, turn off respirator, register the fact that it was only six hours sleep yesterday. So?
rest a while, too da loo, fresh socks, fresh underpants, fresh shirt. Shower?. Not today.
remember Frömel book for mihi mihailovich, freind of the polish one.

Good morning landshut.
it is cold and cloudy, blue-ish light from the dawn behind the overcast sky. Birdsong, dawn music.

This is the second day of the rail strike, the journey to work will be longer. The pen is forgotten, try to memorize details for these notes.
In the bus a black haired young woman, dressed in fashionable black outfit is combing her hair, carefully, untangling the tips, throwing the pilic casualties on the bus floor after disengaging them from her comb.

In the Yormas café she sits in a corner, applying makeup. Be pretty for the day. but save as much of the beauty sleep as possible.
Anastasia smiles kindly today, maybe it is pity, maybe her humour has improved

The punctual train, is quite empty today. Many are using their cars again today, to avoid delay due to the train drivers strike.

There is a dawn after all, as the train moves out.

The clouds have receeded, but it is so cold.

compared to the beginning of the week.

day three week fortyone two thousand and fifteen

the beep sounds strange and muffled today, the brain is trying to modify the sound to something in a dream.
The beep wins, turn off the clock, turn of the pressure machine, disconnect the tubes. Like a machine, loaded for the day.
Morning wash, under the shower.
Gather the gubbings for work, and descend into the stairwell. The street is light, pre-dawn still, birdsong.
Yellow bags in groups at the doorways, return to the house, into the backyard where they are kept on account of their smell, and bring the families collection of packaging waste out to the street. This is all packed nicely in yellow bags.
The italian women, who are actually turkish, are at their fast food store again. They have a turk with them, who is busy telling them what to do. Typically.

At the bus stop there is the crutchman again, and the three shoppersons, one man, two women, pass.
The man wishes guten morgen and the women are wearing black tights and flat shoes.

The bus driver is happy to take the money, say good morning and give a ticket.
Donkeyscone, bittershone.

one man, inside the station’s smokers square, smoking, no pigtailed hair.
A different man.
Anastasia, doesn’t ask, just makes coffee.
derfs sonstnowas sein.
All laughs and smiles.
Big blondy is in the kitchen.
Hedgehog with his newspaper at the table.
No pen today.

Train drivers are on strike, and there are fewer people about today.

Using cars instead.

day two week fortyone two thousand and fifteen

21 April 2015

Long sleep, eight hours according to the wash's display. turn the clock off.

Bathroom and shower, forget to shave. Forget the pills too. Forget forgot.

What is wrong today?

No knowing yet. The clock has stopped, the pendulum is unhung, 

still asleep, long sleep.

Leave the house, go down the birdsong-filled street, The sky is a deep dark blue colour, a few stars are visible. This is the light from a cloudless sky before sunrise. All the buildings seem to be standing out against the dim sky.

There is a finch singing at the bus stop, a strange melody. glimpse the tiny bird, smaller than expected.

The smoker outside the station, the one with the pigtail, is back again.

Gut morgen

Anastasia has time today, no haste today, good humoured, small talk Anastasio? Smalltalk from that brittle young person? She has different people there today, working with her. Big Blondy is not on today, she of the rolling eyes and The salacious comments.

Hedgehog in blue, at his usual table. On his own, Today.

And greetings from the mosaic water as she walks down the platform to see her friends.

and the sun has risen by the time the train has reached Hoosburg.

The windows of the town reflect the sunlight as an orange glare. 

day one week fortyone two thousand and fifteen

Upat 3, sleep destroyed, disturbed for one hour. Then wake at five, torn from sleep by the clock’s beep. The mask’s straps are hurting my head.
Too tight.
maybe the head has swollen.
Shower, get the clothes on- cannot find the glasses.
No time left, go without.

Birdson in the street. Hurry, hurry. the two italians are perhaps not italian women at all, or maybe they are. They are unlocking the door to the turkish fast food place. Maybe, because both pizza and doner kebab are on offer here.
A new bus driver, takes in money and drives fast. The station plaza is deserted and grey, lit by the dim   predawn light.

Anastasia serves coffee, a dozen at a time again, how is it that she is so fast? who knows. Maybe she is just naturally so.
Hedgehog and Moustachio are happily discussing their daily newspaper, a  tabloid with very large-lettered headlines in red.
Monday, this is one of the more evil days of the week, even if it is already promising to be a very warm and sunny day.

Sunday bright

up and to the bathroom, essentials first.
then over to the sons room.
Good morning muffled by the closed door.
He has removed the handle.
Minecrafting, his crafting.
Obsession.

Fix up the coffee maker, italian job.
All aluminium Bialetti.
Nine cups.
Go to sitting room

Tell son to clear up his shoes.
Inattentive young man starts clearing up his schoolbooks

and so the day takes its course,
brightly lit already by the risen sun.

The eight hours done, eyes open to daylight from the window.
Blue sky,
saturday.

getup
son up
dress up
lively day ahead.


Saturday, Latin
minectraft Piano.

The things children do

17 April his

17 April his

No sleep, own fault. Blocked nose makes breathing hard. Last night was too late, this morning is early too. Remove the masks and the apparatus, wait for the clock to sound.

When it does, turn it off.

Shower, shave, find clothing. It is the name now as at the beginning of the week.

Just that the pills have been forgotten in the hurry.

- Birdsong in the street, birds calls, repeating cadences. It is lightening lightly; the sky is visible.

Dolores is there, and a business type man in a rainncoat. he pushes on board the bus as the first man should, oblivious of others. A man-manager.

The station is quiet today, it is earlier than usual by a few minutes. Coffee from Anastasia, big blondy Hardy is left to the kitchen today:

Hedgehog on his bar stool behind the high cafe table, the one with the two rectangular legs. He is joined-by Moustachio, and then by the black haired, black dressed girl: the tall one, from last year.

It is lighter again out on the platform, and the journey to Moosburg commences into the growing day

everyday Thursday

16 April roes

An urgent call from mother Nature, off to the bathroom, disconect the pump and the tube.

Upon the return, the alarm sounds.

Five.

Back to the bathroom, turn on the  shower, shower.

Return.

The alarm sounds again.

Five-oh-nine.

Find my clothes, and leave the house after putting them on, creaming the nose, taking the pills, shaving.

It is still dark.. At the name seat in front of the gate, the name woman is rutting, smoking. In profile like yesterday. Same pale boots on, too. Over decorated high heeled boots, with straps and tackles and buckles.

Dolores. good Morning.

The Italian women pass on their loquacious way into town, black tights on the thinner one and leopards shin patterned tights on the other one.

all bright and summery for what promises to be an nice day.The bus driver is humourless and dour

today, the bus ride uneventful.

Inside the railway station there is the cafe, big blondy and Wendy serving today. Anastasia joins her, there is a crowd now, standing, waiting to be fed.

It is a day like everyday., an everyday Thursday. 

MidWeek day four fifths through the second year

15 April 2015

Sleep disturbed, many small awakenings. The sound of The clock, the beeping signal, ends the night. All of the tube and the mask off, the machine displays that sleep was good and sound. Untruthful device.

The shower of warm water, on the head and the shoulders.

Wash.

Take fresh clothes from the wardrobe, and use the spare five minutes to collect two small parts for work, and leave the house as the church bells toll twice, on the half hour.

Half past five.

At the town gate there is a bench, on which a young woman is sitting, smoking her cigarette.

Waiting, with the portal to the old town in the background, framing the bus stop, and Dolores dragfootedly approaching the seat in the shelter. 

Take care to walk past behind the bench, avoiding a bronze table there with a small model of the historic part of town on it, also in bronze.

'also avoid catching the woman eye.

good morning dolourful Dolores!

The bus is the non-experience again, fiscally undaring fishily staring individuals, barely awake and . yet not asleep sitting in rows upon the seats.

There is a huge white delivery truck in front of the station.

Unloading.

A young woman with Asian features is serving the coffee today. She is polite and thorough, does her Job.

Temin Leiterin Anastasia is hovering in the background It is a tension free morning.

Hedgehog alone, in fresh blue workman trousers. He is alone, standing symetrical with the road table in front of him, resting both his elbows and the flat of his hands on it. The table has only one leg...

On the way to the train there is an African woman and her child with its buggy cursing the lift roundly in some strange language. It does not work in the manner she requires, 'she is pressing the wrong buttons.

The Train is already in, and there are passengers waiting for the second half of the train, the part that couples with the train already there, to make it twice as long,, to absorb all the commuters to Munich.

These people have an aggressive stance, waiting to pounce on a trainful of free seats.

The African woman leaves the lift having obviously found the correct button in the meantime, and asks in a loud voice as to whether this is the train to Munich or not.

It is the train to Munich. 

Ja, dieser Zug fährt nach München

14.April sais

14.April sais

sound in the Dark, reach out from the low bed and press the button on the black  plastic box with the now- illuminated numbers on it. Silence, but further hissing of the air intake for the respiratory aid.

five.

Light on, bathroom, shower out of habit, and because it is pleasant. Brush the hair and cream on the nose, back to the bedroom, on with the clothes..

Outside the house door there is a red flashing blinking light warning of the building site. The chill of the morning augmented by darkness. There is the round of one bird, quaking its monotonous song. Spring is in the air. a large dumpster with flashing orange lights moves out of one of side streets, the lane itself being barely wider than the vehicle.

The bakery hop is being unlocked by a large, black- haired woman. They are getting ready for their day, and in the evening they will be doing it again. The mine procedure, only in reverse.

Under the archway of the old city gate there is a woman hghting her cigarette, shielding the flame of her lighter against a non-existent breeze.' The two Italians pass in in silence

Dolores, happily, wishes good morning from her seat in the bus shelter.

The bus is the name as everyday. Eyes closed,  hear the town pass, all the bus stops announced by a recorded voice from the speakers in the bus's ceiling.

The smokers  square itself is deserted, there are bicycles parked everywhere,. Smokers and drinkers are standing about.

Ht is quarter to six in the morning.

Anastasia; bright and cheerful, ¡NO! direct strict and sombre

Today...

still, the coffee is good.

Hedgehog and Moustache are at these their  places, joined then by two others, two tastelessly dressed characters; grinning, effusive.

fake

The Televisions blonde moderator explains the football, in the name way as she would the other news.

"A Professional presenter, looking good at all times, dressing and enumerating even the most banal of facts, as she would the news of imminent disaster or tragic famine.

Reduced.

Professional

and so to the train, which is in early today. 

day one week thirty nine two thousand and fifteen

13 April aois

End of the mornings sleep, the old beep of the alarm clock silenced, the breathing machine stopped.

Light on, the wall led in flickering now, maybe a poor connection.

Get up, bathroom, turn on the shower.

Hot water, wake up, wash head.

The wet shave yesterday has  held longer, there is no need today

Back to the bedroom, raid the wardrobe for fresh clothing. find the watch, the telephone, the reading kindle tablet, the flows cetin tablet, the nose antibiotic tablet....

and the glasses, and this notebook. All complete.

and out, into the dark of the morning. It is dark since the docks were set back.. Walk past the church, and out through the town gate, past Dolores in the bus stops shelter,

Guten morgen

 stand beside the river bridge and watch the half moon over saint Martins church. The two Italian women pass, talking fast, gesticulating wildly, widely. The one is older and thin in her black tights, the other one in tight blue jeans, well packed. She is no plump, her backside wde so that her knees are pressed together. She has a daggering walk, sober, knockkneed.

all this does not stop her talking, all the time, as she and her colleague wander through the city gate are disappear into the distance,

        Dolores gets on the bus, the bus driver gets his change.

        The smokers square. before the station’s stairs is bare, is void.

It is still holiday time for some..

Anastasia, her usual pretty self,-pretty efficient. 's miles a greeting, after two weeks.

Makes going to work worth while.

Drinking coffee from a paper cup, see hedgehog and moustachio talking, over their heads the offering of the silent television with that-really angelic- pretty-moderator introducing football. she all wideangle distorted on the edge of the screen. All of yesterdays best fouls and scores, nicely described in silence with a raised eyebrow, a cocked shoulder, carefully opening gestures with hands, wobble of the hips and thrust of the shoulder.

Professional Moderator and good looker on that silent YORMAS television screen.

There are-dour faced workmen initiating their day, Their morning coffee and a-a-roll. Solemn faced Anastasia smiles. So do they. Nice day, for a Monday.

On the way down the stairs, look down, see feet and granite.

look up, straight into the eyes of a young woman who has paused in the descent of the stairs to look over her shoulder.

A moment of widening eyes, parted mouth, swirling black hair

Fantastic.

Fantastic.

Toss of the head and black hair ÷ Walks down the Funnel with her shapeless-beige boots, her black tights and off- white lace like off the shoulder top .

Yes, up the stairs to the platform, where the dawn is lightening the sky.

Sunrise soon,  six oh eight train.

Sunday12

sleep under the mask,
simple cure,air pressure keeping the paths air paths free,
wake amid the coils of the tube between the humming turbine and the nasal mask.
It works.

open suitcase on the floor in germany
back home yesterday
Germanbeer, a welcome,home.

The yellow light floods the sitting room,
biedermeier regency Kaiserzeit.
early twentyfirst century japanese television,
2008 Ikea
Brown wooden doors.
sanded wax floors
Antiquities, witness of joy and iniquities!

son at his computer, mine crafting madness.

late sunday morning

coffee Aldi Bialetti.

home,

return

that is the end of the holiday, a clear day, blue cloudless sky already lit by the unrisen sun. Bathroom, ensuite, Irish style, very comfortable.
Put clothes on, pack the bag, takeing out all the creams and liquids to be put in the bag that will go into the hold of the aircraft that is to take us back. The son is awake, the bags are packed, into the car.
Check for keys and passports, all there, all ready.
The details of the moment are hard to grasp, the tinnitus hiss in the head as a wrapper for all sound, deadening and deafening. A thing to get used to, it is mostly there and only goes away from time to time,
The son is up, gets his cereal, starts listening to videos on his mobile phone. Stumpy lingnose !


It is frosty outside, the tops of the trees go yellow as the suns rays catch them.
We shall fly today, one thousand miles in only a few hours.
After the borrowed car has been returned.

day after show

sounds and lights, wake in a childs bed. This is in order, the child is on holidays, unaware that its father has placed a guest in its bed.
The anger will be a thing that the father has to deal with.
Son comes in, cuddles. He slept well, he is ready to wake up.

Bell sounds.
The painters are in to paint the walls of the house, they are fast and loud.
Get up, brush the teeth.

that was a good show yesterday, mother would have been proud.

Out host, That Guy, makes coffee
In his kitchen full of painters tools.
Coffee in his sitting room, son with cereal.

This is the day after a success.

froemel show day Thursday

wake carefully, whiskey last night, no, it was whisky.
Scots.

but it is all okay, put the mask away. away for the day.
Turn it off, first.
Five hours sleep, five hours turbine air.
bathroom shower wash hair feet and all else
back to the bedroom, the son has gone to play with his friends.
Discussions.
The brother is up, resting on his armchair.
He has a bald patch on the crown of his head.
Wildo has white hair.
The sister in law is up as well.

So is the sun, it has been a week of warmth and sunshine

Wednesday,vertical infinity

not quite light yet on a foggy hazy day. Undo the mask, read the display. The display says that sleep was good, get up, shave.
One time razor is scratchy, but there are no cuts today.
Dress, say good morning to the son in his bed, his red hair showing from under the bedclothes. Sleepy head.
The kitchen, cannot find the coffee. Irish kitchen, not my kitchen.
Read all the mail, the spam mail, the facebook mail, similar rubbish.

Son enters the kitchen, visits the his cousin in the next room. The little cousin has been up for a long time, spent playing on some small electronic machine.

And then he makes up ahuge bowl of cereal, sugary cereal with milk.
Cereal killer.

Now the morning has gone all grey.

Irish weather.

Dinsday tuesday

snuffle, this cannot go on disturbing, the discomfort of the mask offset by the elation  due to having worn it all night, another night of completed dreams.
the light from the sun in the window, and the son leaving the room on tiptoes tiptoesing his way out. Comes for a short cuddle after all.
Leave the bed, hang up the tubes, leave for the shower.
brush the teeth, and the hair.
bare foot to the kitchen, a warm fine day.
Brother and small nephew, both say good morning.

No coffee, take tea instead.
tea without sugar, but with milk.
Plain blue sky
Sister in law says it was frosty in the night.

Ireland, peace and quiet, no motors of civilization to be heard.

The sound of the stream at the bottom of the garden drowns the tinnitus.

sunny easter monday

an entanglement of fluid and air hampers the easy flow in the air machine, the throat opener. But still, wake up, machine down,:
Brown (I Got You (nov 1965))
It is never „good“ to play song lyrics instead of talking, JB reflects a feelin, a-and he does it rather well, you know!
Time takes its turns.
get dressed, brush teeth, go to kitchen.
Kids on a couch, playing a noisy little instrument, all together.
ikds feel good, freedom, no constraints, mixed up cereal breakfast.
Bright light pouring in, in in.
Take son back to clear the bedroom, old clothes in a plastic bag
tidy tidy tidy.
up clearing the room.


Half way through the holidays

another weatherwize wizard day

In church yesterday.
Truth and beauty
dreary music that would offend no one
seriously.
me a bit

e easter silence

greenish irish light from the windows, and the sound of the anti apnea aspirator aspirating, dog bella barking at her own things, imaginings. out in the countryside.

Sons nose appears from beneath his bedclothes in the bed across the room.
„go for a shower son“
no
ditto
no
Silly argument

Son happy, the great unwashed.


get up, brush teeth, yeah.
Brother up, bagel breakfast,

egg hunt day

awaken after too little sleep. The ogre is back, the hiss. See that the sun has risen, hear the son rise. Gets his clothes on and goes.

Comes back imitating an alarm clock in order to waken his father.

Get up, the brother is in a fit of sorts. Coffee ready, need to go for an egg hunt. Beg for a moment, shoes on , yesterdays clothing, cream the nose.

Egg hunt at ten, and it is late.

In the car the nephew tells me that only four year olds and girls go to egg hunts.

He has a good time solving the riddles anyhow someway.

The castle gardens are beautiful and well kept, their pre-spring trim like a fresh haircut, all ready for their growth period.

A man building a drystone wall of shale or slate. Each stone precise, each with a spirit level check.

Eggs to be found by children

Gardens to be enjoyed by all

Better Friday

Confusio nof pipes and wires, bright room.
Son on the bed in the opposite corner, cuineas.
Asleep.
turn off the pump, the turbine, the humour supercharger.
The one who allows the dreams to end.
Five hours forty five, two events per hour.

What are these events?

Goto bathroom ensuite Irish, shower.
Disturbed by son answering natures calls.
Thats it, leave the shower, dry.

Select clothes, old ones in the bag,
bag of odours and ordures.
Clear air, clear light.

Kitchen?
Kids, nephews brother.
All there, cornflakes and other cereals.
Instant coffee and slow awakening

Remember the dreams
Talk about power generation,

from the little stream

thursday Lismore

see the light flood in through the window, grey and clear. Home country for Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon, the land of saints scholars and other blackguards.
The bed opposite has the young son in his red hair under his duvet, still fast asleep. Ten years old.
And on the floor a mess of suitcases, opened last night, clothing spilling out over their borders.
Turn of the machine, the supercharger, the air maker, the device that lets the dreams end in peace and be forgotten rather than in panic before a threat of  asphyxiation. A glottal stop that does not manifest itself in speech.
Turn it off, anyhow.

The son is awake now, going for his clothing, going for the hairbrush, hunting for his spray to help him comb his hair.

Dress, and go forward to the brother in his kitchen, give him his easter socks. GDiscount socks from German C&A. The joke has tradition, and it is the giving of the socks that is important, the remembering of the same. It is not a matter of special qualities of the socks themselves.

Ireland is green with yellow daffodils,  a peaceful silence, the beauty of the country overpowering for the stranger and repatriated, part of the daily struggle for those that get on with their lives here.

Instant coffee and toast.
A traditional thing, milk in plastic bottles.

fools day

awaken early, cannot sleep

five forty five.

get up, get water.

The bottled water is finished.

therefore drink tap water.

tap water is good here.

tastes different though.

flat tap water.

It is dead silent but for the ticking of the quartz clock.

that makes the silence deeper.

there are cars outside

in the distance.

This evening we shall be flown to Cork

in Ireland

again