d2 w49 year 2

Confusion, the end of sound sleep,-the clocks is turned off, the insistent sound is gone. A beep, when there used to be a ring. The shower last night before bed. has rendered showering in the morning unnecessary. But go to the bathroom to wash the teeth, brush the hair, all these things that need to be done in the morning.- The cat comes to cuddle in the morning, a kitten. that will probably remain a kitten in feline psychological terms for the rest of it's life...

Find blue socks to with the blue shirt, and collect the glasses from the upright piano.

And walk into the street this early morning: sunny weather, the illuminated spire of parting church visible at the end of the street.

The usual way through the town, most of it forgotten by the time it is taken.

The bus shelter, empty today. Morning light, everything in looking bright, fresh, kitsch.

The bus driver refuses the carefully counted change, there ist oo much cuprous coin material for which he does not have the space in his machine. So what, it was all well meant. Give him a larger coin, he happily gives change, his world is in order. That is that. Grins from the other passengers... The man may well be known for his early grumpiness. He is the bus driver with a bald pate and moustache, the one who looks like a walrus.

The pigtailed man is at the station, smoking 'a cigarettes in the designated smokers area. good morning, all is well. The swing doors to the station are still defective, jammed in the open position with a note pinned to them.. ‚'Türe Defekt". Anastasia nerves her Yorma coffee, that is all that is drinkable today.

Feel good, hedgehog in earnest conversation with the brown haired women, and moustache bantering with 'big bloody, that is the way that the day begins at the station.

The train is crowded, full of airline passengers and sleeping people demanding space. There are few seats left.

and so the day , yet again. 

d1 w49 second year

her way to nowhere, she wishes a cheerful "good morning".

        Today is an unpleasant day, a tress fat one. It in friday, and no Joys visible for the coming weekend. at the nation still arrive in time for the train, but Enchant the time for coffee. No formers today.

The train leaves punctually, and the clay is back on course for normality.

29.June 2014

a dear clear birdsong from the yard at dawn today. A blackbird or a nightingale. An ornithologist would know. It continues into the growing light. The dock says that it is Four forty,  take of the mask, go to the bathroom. Take the alarm dock along, so that its unhalted beeping refrain does not wake up the house and its neighbours.

        Let the shower run hot and tend the now beeping alarm. A short sharp tap on the button shuts it down.

Shower, wash the head and brush the teeth Return and take the clothing for the day from the wardrobe. gather the bags, two today. One with this notebook and the pen, the train ticket, and so forth, the other with the camera parts needed for work today.

        and leave the house, walk unconscious and unaware to the bus stop. Dolores is there, turquoise shoes on today. A bus painted in the colours of the ice hockey team pulls past, huge pictures of a bearded player all over the coachwork:

a businesman-like man with two bags on a trolley arrives at the stop, he says good morning, and positions himself so that he may board the bus first, it seems to be his nature to do this, and to be this way.

Pigeons in various colours, brown, white, grey, and mixtures thereof wheel around and alight on the road, picking and pecking at the pavement. There are many about today, and when the bus comes in they all fly way.

Check the bags contents on board of the bus, making sure that the train ticket is there. Find a small part of the camera, mislaid last week.

Anastasia at the station, the waitress in Yormas Café. Takes money, gives paper cups of coffee. And a happy friendly smile at the end of the transaction.

Hedgehog is worried today, talking to the lady with the brown hair. Moustache wishes them good morning, receives a grunt for an answer.

and so to the Munich Train, full of people dealing with the remains of unfulfilled sleep and interrupted dreams.

peaceful coffee and birdsong

The mask fell off during the night and is on the ground, on the wooden boards of the room, the sanded old boarding. That was noticed at five in the morning. Replacement, start the compressor. It is still working, good.
Sleep on until a quarter to seven, untill now. Barely awake, just a dim tinny his in the back of the head. The usual tinnitus is gone today, how did that happen? Never mind, it will be back.
Take a break from this, go and coffee make. Listen to the birdsong outside.

Fill the bialetti machine, fill the coffee grinder. Close the doors to contain the noise of the grinder. The little cat inspects it’s plate, put some catfood from the open tin thereon, and watch it eat. The cat is so greedy that it puts it’s head under the tin as the catfood is being taken out. Earfull of awful.

Return to this machine at seven, four bells outside, then seven bells. Saint Martins church. The gas under the coffee maker hissing all the while like tinnitus. Gas, the stuff wars are fought for.

Sunday, it would be nice to go into a garden.

two seven vingt sept

The dry cold air pouring in through the nose, ventilating the lungs, its pressure forcing aside glottal masses encroaching on its free passage.

The dreams of choking have gone away as a result of this treatment. That is so.##

The sky is occluded grey today, pet the kitten, little Miriam the cat. She is playing with bottle tops, tossing them into the air, kicking them with its paws and giving chase happily.

A most active young kitten, precocious.

Or little precious.

It is saturday and the neighbours down the road have received a delivery of refrigerators. Two very large grey refrigerators.

The son is concentrating on his screens, watching films about his sandbox game. The count of the used socks and other underwear on the floor does not impress him at all.

And the refrigerator in the kitchen hums loudly, it will be ten years old soon enough.

anon enough.

The days chores are waiting, So be it. The whistle in the head and the hum  of the `fridge are a dumb monotonous chorus, joined by some use of an electrical building appliance outside.

The dead peace of sunday morning is tomorrow.

Friday26 June

the orange and black of the night sky over this town fades to a dark grey , then to a lighter grey. It is four thirty, take off the mask and ,go to the loo.
Afterwards, the cat, the kitten, starts playing, assaulting bedclothes and fingers. Rest untill five, the feline activities get wilder. Playing wildcat in the bedclothes.

Shower at five, and return to pick the days clothing out of the wardrobe. The cat looks on, bright eyed, probably hoping for food or other entertainment.
In the hallway open the door for the cat. It runs out to the balcony, to its tray.
Young cats learn quickly, they have clean instincts.
Downstairs find that the key is missing. Up again, and it is there on the piano.
Go down the street, past the yellow digger waiting to begin with the days work, past the police station. There is the car.
Return home to search for the watch, a neccessary timepiece. Spend the time searching, return to the car and find it there.
Navigate down through the tunnel under the castle, and take the road alongside the river until the passage under the railway bridge marks the end of the urban zone. It is quiet, it is early in the morning.
Julian Bream on the car radio

hospital awakening

A mask tuning night, with an awakening at three. The bedside lamp on, and look at the watch.
Three.
All the wires,all the cables and pipes. And then the end of the bed falls off. A shattering noise.

The nurse comes in says that there is no sleep at all.
Agree.
Keep on trying untill four.

and at six the attendant comes in and takes away the tubes, the lines, and the connections.
Go for a shower, remove the sensor glue from the head.
Sleep untill eight.
And a nurse brings breakfast.
Two rolls and a small pot of paté, and a small pot of jam.
And a pot of coffee.
Two-cup sized pot.

Breakfast.

Apnea.
Sleep badly in strange beds.

All is in order, the doctor is happy.

Let us proceed with the day.

abscence is taken for granted.

and the radio controlled clock on the wooden window sill alarm sounds its daily five ay em alarm.

sit up, press that button. And then the other one, turn off the compressor and take down the mask,  away from its nasal perch, and put it on the table.

Relax, today is the day of the hospital, this afternoon early. There is no cause to go to work, what for. Hospital food and hospital breakfast for one night only.

Get up, make coffee. 

Five forty five, the luxury of forty five extra minutes in bed enjoyed and now left behind for the coffee machine, the coffee grinder and the gas cooker. Fill the big Bialetti machine, first with water, then with coffee, freshly ground.

Play with the little kitten, it is too young to enjoy its head being scratched, it rolls over on its back and boxes with all four paws. With its claws retracted, it is only playing.

Still in the night clothes, get this computer, this writing machine, and take it to the table.

And then the coffee machine sounds, burbling as it percolates the black brew into its upper container. That stuff is all made of aluminium, probably poionous. According to new discoveries, anyhow.

Outside in the alley there is the sound of a large truck. These are the yellow bag people, with their orange truck with the orange warning lamps blinking. One man drives, the other man walks about the street collecting yellow bags all filled with plastic packaging refuse. Both dressed in bright orange dayglo overalls, with warning reflective stripes on their legs.

Run.

Out to the back of the house, collect the five bags produced by our family inside the last fortnight, and run out onto the alley. 

Place the bags beside the restaurant bags on the other side of the alley, catch the amused glance of the truck driver, and return to the house.

Go back upstairs, into the sitting room and watch the men dispose of those yellow bags along with all of the others.

Just in time, they were early today.

Back to the coffee, the table and this computer.

The wife’s alarm clock sounds at six thirty, and then the son’s at six forty six.

Sounds of good mornings.

the presence of the usually absent father is not realised, the usual absence is taken for granted.

carday tuesday

alarm on the sill of the closed window. disconnect the tubular hell from its straps holding it to the head.  And onward to the bathroom, the shaver and the shower.
Gather fresh clothes from their various shelves and hangers, get dressed for the day.
The hair brush is not to be found, eventually in the kitchen on the refrigerator. Tinnitus howling abuse to the world, the madness is only inside the head. A sign of ageing.

The little kitten comes in, looking for food and attention.
It gets attention. Her tail is up vertical like a pipe cleaner, straight up.
and out to the cat tray.

Collect the car from the space opposite the police station. Groups of policemen are everywhere, it is shift change.
It is six in the morning.

monday morning doctors appointment

black plastic button at five, to the sound of church bells from the window, the alarm on the sill is silenced.
rest on another half an hour, there is an appointment in town at eight, time to till then yet. Shower, all the other bathroom things of the morning done.
coffee found, cold coffee drunk. It is left from yesterday, bitter and black. There is a bird sqwawking away outside, this cannot be called birdsong.
And the family awakens, the son has to go to school.

His school books are spread everywhere, all over the place, everyplace anywhere.
Forgot to shave and now the son has occupied that bathroom.
so it is.
the struggle starts at home.
The kitten precocious, sideways longlegged walking.
it wants to be a bigger cat.
Then it goes hunting.
Dust bunnies in the sons room.

DocTime

solstice, this is the longest day of the year

awaken. the cat purrs. 

It is not really a cat yet, only a kitten.

Big eyes, eyes, all dark and beady, rarely like true cats slit eyes.

It plays with the stroking hand, rolls on its back and fights it’s small boxing matches with the fingers.

Its claws stay withdrawn

it is only small

it is only playing

miriam the cat

get up, the tinnitus has receeded, it is only a quiet whistle now.

hear the sound of early morning cartoon television from the sitting room,

the sons laughter.

Sunday, the longest day of the year.

The days will steadily shorten now.

cold coffee today, and get ready to clean the flat.

Sunday cleaning

Solstice

Be aware

Listen to the measured ticking of time going by

The cat is now on the knee

and is purring loudly.

Happy cat.

It is weekend, not much happening.

grey solstitic sunless day

Saturday morning early

no sleeping at this hour anymore, the early wakening has trained the body and the mind. Not in any way a positive view of affairs, but that is the way it is. Now that the longest day is nearing the nights are sh.ort and warm.
The sound of the clocks and a few early cars passing on the cobbles outside, rumbling their way on early morning messages or bringing their owners home from late nights.
There is nothing happening, the wife, the son and the kitten are all in the land of Nod.
Listen to the hissing on the left hand side of the head, it is slowly turning into a constant loud companion, a nagging thing, a nuisance.

and now half an hour is gone doing nothing.
try to sleep again
rest

Martins bells ring four times for the hour and six times for the time of day.

Friday,short day

19 June 20/5

get up go to the bathroom.

The name every day, it is not the smallest details That count, but rather a general movement, adrift. 'But if the details are not present, Then chaos breaks out.They must all be at their usual places. anyway, when all the washing, and clothes searching is done, the glasses are missing..

Look everywhere, find nothing.

The spare glassed on the nose, leave for the Bus. The later bus today, the bus No. 2, the one that goes via the hospital, rather than just driving straight 'on to the railway Station.

still at the bus dolores debts passes by her way to nowhere, she wishes a cheerful "good morning".

Today is an unpleasant day, a tres fat one. It is friday, and no joy is visible for the coming weekend. at the station still arrive in time for the train, but not  the time for coffee. No Yormas today.

The train leaves punctually, and the day is back on course for normality. 

day four week forty-seven 2015

8.6.2015

Bip- and the clock has changed from its slow beep to a higher frequency.

Black button, Silence. Take off the mask, it was a sound night's sleep according to the display.

Shower is too hot today, brush teeth and find fresh clothes. The little cat climb up the trouser legs as far as the jacket, then suddenly realises that there are heights to be scared of. Walk over to the bed, and' it jumps' into the soft bedding. Fresh clothes today...

And on in this course, leave the house, locking the door, as every day, every workday. There is a new plaster hopper in front of the building site, this probably contains the plaster for the facade.....

On the way through the town gate, look up to watch a flight of six swans fly vast. They are huge birds and seem to be flying  purposefully downriver. They are in a Vee formation, with two on one arm of the Vee and four on the other.

There are two taxis and ten pigeons in front of the town gate. The bus driver is friendly and dark haired. There is no smoker in front of the station, and dear Anastasia asks whether a tattered buttered pretzel is wanted today-

        Surprise.

No way.

The brown haired woman is talking to Hedgehog, later to be joined by Moustache. They are chatting quietly at their table.

The small train from Rosenheim is in, and it is time to go. The station has two cargo trains stopped at the platforms, a fuel transport returning to Austria.

A young woman looks up, and asks the way to Munich?

"Just follow the crowds'.' She is from Africa, and her English is not great. Perhaps she has misunderstood that for a piece of second world war slang.

The train is packed, the mosaic maker looks angrily on her way to her favourite place at the head of the train....

And so the journey proceeds, via Moos burg,

-'change at Freisiwgq, change at Neufahrn,

So this day runs its course. 

17-June zois, no 2015

17-June zois, no 2015

dim grey outside, and the wife gets up to open the window, sit up to check the dark, it is four forty. Take  off da breathing mask.

At five start the day by stopping the clock's noise Undress, leave the night clothes on the bed, go to the bathroom. Shave and shower, Things that are done every day, or should be done. Struggle

to find a towel, the disorder in front of the storage press prevents from opening the door. It just makes it more difficult.

Put on brown shoes today, and search for a hair brush, It is the same as on other days, just the details are different. Upon leaving the house five minutes earlier than usual, a surprised cyclist passes with an astonished expression on her face.

And under the town gates there are four ducks and about ten pigeons, about their business, looking for food. There is no Dolores at the bus stop today, and after having checked the change for the bus driver continue to read that J Barth book on the goat boy , a strange surrealist account of a university, a microcosms of symbols pertaining to events and morals on a world scale. American symbollicks. The same bus driver as yesterday takes in the name amount of money..

There are two Japanese women on the hedge holding mobile 'phones up, taking  pictures of water flowing under the bridge.

Wishing the world a good morning.

The Yorma's girl Anastasia wordless today, sees wildo', takes his money stamps his card, and produces coffee. Put the lid on this at the special lid-putting-on place, and go to the coffee room.. 'H et m are talking, 'Hedgehog  looks very serious indeed. News of women’s soccer on television... Time passes, it is now six in the morning. The tunnel under the platforms is endlessly long, tiled. People in the distance coming from the other side of the tracks, from the other side of town. Numbered exits to both sides for the platforms, take number six. Like every day

The mosaic maker dressed in conservative clothes, no respect of the summer, her workman trousers, her hoody. hoodie and her bag with the button pins on it.

- Good morning, a tired grin.

It is Wednesday, the middle of the week. 

day two week forty-seven 2015

16 June 20 is.

Well before the alarm sounds, awaken, take off the air mask, with its unpleasant bands pressing on the nose. Look at the clock, its is four thirty seven. Take an early morning walkabout in the flat, make up a Tomato Randwick Sandwich in the kitchen. The kitten watches with its' beady.little eyes, wondering whether or not she is getting breakfast as well.

In the bedroom the clock sounds for five, is turned off, and off to the shower. A wet-haired return to the bedroom. Miriam the kitten is now purring on the bed.

It, or she, rolls on her back and commences a kind of boxing match with wildo's hands and fingers stroking the fluffy fur.

Check the bag, see that all the planned contents are there, make sure that the doors to the balcony are open, and leave the house.

In front of the second hand book store two wrens are fighting over something or other. One flies away, and the other flies up to the shop sign to sit on a gilded decoration there. It preens, and gets its feathers back into order.

In front of Martin's church three pigeons pick around, looking for edibles between the cobble stones.

The bus stop and its attendant shelter are deserted today, the bus driver is dour and quiet. He is the balding man with the moustache, if he had flippers he would be a walrus.

Anastasia never exchanges a word, gives change, returns the discount card, stamped, and later

puts the fresh cup of coffee onto the counter.

For the rake of decency, a quick "good morning'

A very busy young woman.

Hedgehog is there, alone. He mumbles a good morning. A short while later he is joined at the small wall table by Moustache. Both are silent today.

The silent television shows a picture of the current grecian finance minister. Mister No in person.

On the way to the platform there is a spilt mug of coffee on the ground. A young girl in tight rummer skies performs a kind of dance to avoid stepping into the splattered brews

The train is full again. A young man snores in the seat to the right, and a girl in a magenta coloured jacket  and red hair reads her electronic book in the seat opposite.

- In Marbury a girl dressed entirely in black, with dark blond hair sits down opposite. Look up from writing right into her eyes, focussed . Enlarged by the lenses of the black-rimmed glasses, they stare directly into the viewers. The pupils distend. The face colors.
 Then that stolen second is passed, look away. Black top with blade shiny apliqeé, also in black. That is it, for today. 
look away, behave.

day one week forty-seven 2015

13.June.2015

Rain outside, heavy rain rushing against the roofs and the concrete of the town. There is thunder too. The light in the window a dull grey from the heavily overcast sky.

And loud thunder.

Look at the clock, and see that there is half an hour more to sleep. Listen to the rain, a relaxing round, not at all unpleasant. Sleep.

The alarm, and disconnect the pipes.  pressure here. Get up, go to the bathroom, brush the teeth, and use the electric shaver.

After the objects for the day have been gathered and put in their bag, and a raincoat has been found.

Hear the two bells, and out into the rain, down the alley. The rushing and dripping of the heavy rain is everywhere,a very-damp Dolores at the bus stop says good morning, and, a short while later, a very grumpy bus driver wishes good morning Ea.

The smokers at the station are all under the porch there, sheltering from the downpour. Get coffee, Anastasia is training-a new colleague in her serving work. She has dark hair, aid she has problems with the electronic till. But the two of them manage. Hedgehog is there, talking away to Moustachio and others, 'let us assume that his holidays have ended.

Take off the coat, and drink..

a full train, there are not many seats.. It takes es through a sodden landscape, areas of open water in the fields, there may well be serious flooding soon,

But as the train nears Freising, the weather seems to ease, and the clouds thin. There is hope for the day .

sunday silence

the five in the morning habit will not even let go on weekends now, up and about and typing notes. Finish up the cold coffee to avoid making noises that would waken the family. Even the nocturnally active kitten sleeps this morning in its new found jungle of civilized family life.
The light in the bedroom was colourless grey, the light in the sitting room a warm yellow in the reflection from the house opposite. A colour showing the one-time influence of the church in that building. Now it is a family home.

There is hardly another sound in the streets as Martin’s bells sound three times, the sound muffled behind the double glazing. Open the window and the distant sound of an aeroplane can be heard, pigeons, hawks, and one by one cars rumbling over the main street’s cobblestones, driving past the end of church alley on their way to god knows where.
The hawks are screaming continuously as the bells of saint Martin’s church sound once.
Thus, you will understand that despite the silence, there are single sounds to be heard, the loudest ones being anthropogenetic.

Think of the days resolutions:
Dust the furniture survaces in the sitting room
Find the cost of postage to china
Fill out that medical form
Make up my room

That will do, work tomorrow, serving those that think that they are the only ones needing service.

aches saturday

off to a false start, clear grey day, too early, clearly overpaid the publican last night, Martina’s bells ringing before the bleary eyes. More on the bill than in the stomach and enough in the head.

No morning alarm, yet awaken at five. Habits will not break easily, and not hard to make.

Ache in the back, headache, tinny whistle hiss.

get up walk about.

Bad idea.

Rest on the couch for a moment.

Wake up, family up, a view from the couch for a change.

Little cat scrambles up, big eyed and blacknosed 

curious, eager for the new.

Late.

And the son is off to his choir practice

lastday this week

12 June 15

struggle with the devices of the night, and violence in silence.

Stand up for the day, and in the "bathroom take the daily shower, wash the teeth, and fush the hair. Every day the same story, finding socks, shirts and pants.

The kitten, now named Miriam, is no where to be seen or heard. An intent silent cat.

Silence in the alley, too. The sun is out, and illuminates, every brick of the Martin's church in low-angled orange-tinted morning light. A nice shot at 'dawn. All the streets are deserted, clear of people.

Then a cyclist, speeding by on the pedestrian path. Without hands on his handlebars, steering by arsehole.

Dolores is at the bus stop, she brightens up, becomes un-dolourful when she returns the mornings German greetings.

A woman is to be seen wearing a day-glo orange jacket and matching running shoes.. Across the flood-gates, and disappears behind the Island restaurant, only to reappear, running over the arched pedestrian bridge spanning the river to proceed towards the bus stop and the  town gate with its big arch. Her shoes can he heard, they make a" crunch crunch" round on the riverside walk's gravel, to be then replaced by a "slap slop rtap round on the pavement. She vanishes into the town, running through  the buildings. That is right, keep fit girl, you can do it!.

Exact change for Anastasia today., all we say is "gwten Morgen'! She has what looks like a tattoo on the inside of her wrist. It is not to be seen  clearly at all. Maybe it is just a disco stamp.

The cafe is empty today. Just so.

Empty.

Good morning to the sleepy-looking mosaic maker, as she climbs the stairs and walks down the platform to her usual place of boarding the train. She leaves in Munich City, and the exit to that station is at the head of the platform there.

Through a tight foggy landscape, damp with dew, the journey goes. And all shall pay their due to their employers, on this Friday.

To depart into the week's work…

Now like every day, leave the carriage, charge platforms, take a new train in Frei sing, the slow Esban. Walk down the-whole carriage, search for a neat.

The black haired, eyebrow- painted, black jacketed young lady opposite is speaking to her mobile 'phone. The conversation ended, she removes her jacket, revealing a black T.-shirt type  short skirt over black tights.

an elegant appearance, and a disastrous smell of garlic wafts other, the scent  must have had all night to permeate the peson then to exude from the skins pores.

Never go just by appearances.

By the time that this has been written the messages announcing the trains arrival in Neufahm are to be heard.

The journey is almost done. All that remains now is the bus ride across country to

Gar Chingq.

        Room 2055 

day four, in a week almost two years later

Timepiece by the window sounding wildly,five in the morning, get up turn it off, careful! Press the correct button, then disconnect the trailing pipe leading to the anti apnea turbine that was pressurising the windpipe all night.

Six hours thirty minutes sleep.

Bathroom shower check the things.

All there, wash the teeth.

Livescribe pen is missing, must be in work.

*THIS IS ALL FROM MEMORY* 

NO MACHINE INVOLVED++

The cat goes to its tray, flee downstairs, leave the house, lock the door.

Rush down the alley, past the hole-stopping Fayads dirty white illegaly parked van blocking the corner to the Martins Church square.

Past the discount baker, and there is a delivery truck there unloading undead bread to be resuciated by a short spell in a hot oven on a customers demand. The unloader wishes good morning.

Black haired girl groping for cigarettes approaches the town portal, and lights up under the portal.

Her cigarette, of course.

Black haired ponytailed girl, white wedge heeled shoes, white jacket, swinging hair passes the bus stop on her way into town, passing under the gate. Cigarettes too.

Black tights fashionable now, and perhaps stopping under a town gate to light a pre-work cigarette is fashionable too.

The two turkish women from the doner fastfood place pass, as they do every day.

And the bus is on time too.

Pigtailed greyhaired smoker far away across the square today, reading a notice attached to a column.

Anastasia, almost wordless, coffee and discount stamp.

And then big blondy turns up, and they both burst out laughing, they almost collapse with laughter.

Who get’s that joke? Only they do, there seems to be no particular reason for it.

And the train is on time too.

A mumbled good morning from the hoodie mosaic maker as she heads down the platform to her usual place at the begeinning of the train.

day three week forty-six

Wednesday,June 10th

Awaken, remove the breathing mask, and look at the clock. It is four fifty six, time to get up.Turn off the clock so that it will no lo longer sound.

listen. A sound of purring comes from under the bed. It si the little cat.

Obviously.

go to the bathroom, take my dower, wash the

hair.

Return to the bedroom, get dressed, a new fresh shirt and trousers for the day. The cat, kitten, leaves the 'vestibule over and goes to its tray. For such a small animal, well, …..it will be necessary to change her feed.

Sit down and wait. Watch the kitten play on the floor. Happy, I suppose. Running everywhere...

Two bells from saint Martin's, it is time to leave the house. Those two plaster silos, or hoppers have gone, leaving an area of stained pavement where they had stood. Make a mess on the pavement opposite to the house that they are beautifying. It is overcast, but not raining. There are workmen getting into cars. They are clearly overslept, unshaven persons, men with little co-ordination. A car pulls up at the bus stop, and before it has halted a young fat male person attempts

to get out. He looks as if he is not yet awake. The person driving the car looks 'like his mother, she drives the car into an illegal  U -turn on the bending road and leaves. He staggers to the timetable affixed to the bus stop. As the bus arrives, he is still reading. then rushes across the path to be first on board of the bus...

The grey pigtailed smoker invokes good morning  at the stat0an again, taking his usual place beside the ashtray.

good Morning!

The fat youth pushes the entrance door to the station open, enters, and-lets it swing closed behind him. He behaves as if he is the only person left in the world.

Hold the door for the person following, she says thank you.

Anastasia gets the coffee, smiles, and says good morning.'

Serves all her customers and wastes no words..

Mustachio is talking to the brown haired woman, there is no Hedgehog around to-day.

Leave for the train, admire all the people crushing around the entrance. They have the brute instinct of a herd of sheep.

There will be free seats, and, yes, there are.

No point in fighting. There is nothing to gain and dignity to lose.

muflons!

day two week forty-six

A technical failure at the days commencement allows the alarm clock to fail miserably. It says eight thirty eight and this is not possible. The town is silent outside the open window, the sound of shouts and engines police cars ambulances and machines has not yet begun. The small swiss watch tells a more credible story, it is five thirty. That alarm clock has had a battery failure.

So much for that.
The shower works, warm and comfortable today, is that not nice. Dry and think. It is now quarter to six, it would be necessary to use the blue car to get to work. Fifty kilometers driving instead of fifty kilometers sitting in a train.
No time for blogging at Yorma’s café, no seeing the usual people.
Wander through the rooms, meet the kitten, now named MIRIAM. The kitten gives a morning greeting, scratch its tiny head.
All the stuff assembled, ready for work.
Scratching sound from the cat tray, that is good. Open the door to the balcony. A small cat can create a big smell.

Leave the house, collect the car from it’s space in front of the police station. See all the policepeople changing shift, still wearing parts of their uniform going home, all spruce and fresh in their uniforms starting their shift.

It is tuesday, the day technology will fail.

„I can feel it“.

day one week forty-six 2015

A' dream of technical madness, a steam pink mass of tramway cogs and buttons, polished brass and cloth covered cables

Find the correct button on the black plastic alarm clork, silence.

The kitten has found it's way up onto the bed, and is happily chewing toes and chasing its' tail. She has a loud purr for such a small animal.

cold water only in the shower today, the heating must be turned off. Shower cold, good for a hot day. . After dressing, go up and turn on the heating. It will deliver warm water by the time the 'vest at the family are awake. It is late now, rush to find the things needed for the day. Train ticket, money, the pen now writing this, the shoulder bag.

Leave the house behind, see that the street its full of parked cars left over from the weekend.

The Astroturf is being removed from the town square, the scene of the weekends festivities. A football competition in the middle of town!

The bus is visible in the shop window, through the town gate.

Late!

Run, 

and tap on the driven window. He starts? Was he sleeping?

Pay the money.

Coffee at yorma's, Anastasia is in a good humour today, even though it is Monday... Big Blondy is there too,, the usual crowd around the table.

But no Hedgehog.

The train is on time, and the mosaic maker says good morning-Times of change, the school term has

started, people are back from their holidays. crowded train, people in a big hurry to board. And it is a grey day too, warm and grey.

After leaving Mooshwg it commences to rain. 

Heavily:

This is good for the crops.

Many see it as an injustice, they take rain personally,
as an insult from some higher authority.

It is not. It is just weather.

Sunday, young cat purring

hot hot day, even early in the morning. Yesterdays kitten is on the floor beside the bed purring quite happily, exploring the mess and fighting the odd dust bunny from under the bed. Farmhouse kitten. Big eyes, wide open, like buttons in the middle of her face. Tricoloured cat, brown black and white.

Get up, cat makes a mock attack on the old feet. Forward animal.
It has been a year now since the old cat died. Time for fresh company.



Outside, the bells call the faithful to mass, and wake up many of those that do not believe, It is the day of rest, and a sleepy hot sunday in a quiet country town it is.
Listen to the son and the wife laugh at the antics of the kitten, which is playing cat and mouse with a bobbin of thread it has recovered from under the bed.

All working as it should, it will be back to work tomorrow, the train and all the regular faces and antics.

saturday June six, ring for a kitten day.

sleep like a block of wood with a head full of sawdust and shavings. Deep but no satisfaction. It is a bright sunny hot morning, a day that promises nothing but the finest of weather. The son is at his machine again. A strange occupation, changing to a serious problem.Outside, in the street, the neighbours from the house opposite are dressed in medieval brocades, some make believe reenactment today celebrating the pomp of the twelfth century, now almost one thousand years ago. This house was not there then yet, and the streets were elsewhere.
The bialetti has burbled, and the coffee is made, delivered and will be drunk from its cups.

The three young girls in their outfits look great, yet they will have a hot day of it today under their long skirts smocks and jackets. Still, they love their costumes and they show themselves in them with the greatest of pride. They are off to a pageant somewhere.

Saturday weekend, the sound of large motorbikes fahrting about the place, big american machines with short exhausts and sound so virile it is childish. The pleasures of the highway, and back home for supper.
Car doors slam, motor starts, the family day outside has begun.

Must telephone to find out about the kitten today.

friday, a bridge between corpus christi and saturday.

turn off the machinery, take off the mask, go to da loo, take a shower, make coffee and shave. It is late, it is a grey depressing day, in the head and the sun is out, people chatting on the roads, echoes from the hard surfaces of the streets. Gutturally voiced Bavarian, a man explaining things that are known already, a woman interrupting with increasing impatience. The lederhosen-voiced individual laughs, a phony laugh, ha ha ha HA.
The son comes out of his room and starts his homework for school. Next week the holidays will be over and done with, past.
Whittled.


The hiss in the right hand side of the head is still there, drawing attention, demanding attention. the hated hissy tinny tussi, the hole in the tooth,


and the beastly desolate existence, choked in comforts, starved of company, relationships  defined ,much as a ship is defined by the pollards that fix it with ropes to a quay.

day four after sixty days

corpus christi today, the feast and not the town, not the boat.

no work, stay up late last night and sleep on today. The son is up and about, making coffee, his passion in the morning. He drinks it normal strength from an espresson cup.

Turn off and switch off the tubular snorter, the wind machine, the compressor

Roll to the right hand side, pull up the knees. Foetal position now, the knees are over the edge of the bed.  Straighten out the legs now, and the feet are over the edge with the knees. Straighten the arm, push down on the bed and lever the body vertical. The feet hit the floor, no strain for the old back, then straighten the knees.
Transformered from prostrate to vertical, mechanical.

and off to the bathroom, to satisfy the most urbane of needs.

The sitting room with its two pianos is filled with light from the risen sun, the sun up since four, the sound of the heavy tolling bells of saint martins church over the town, filling the room through the empty windows.

corpus christi, and the rumble of car tires on the cobble stones.
The sound of the organ and the choir audible in the distance.
"The believers calling me in my unbelief"




And the one from Braga, not praha, stories of disaster and healing. Read the story in the morning.

day three week forty five 2015

3 June 2015

Alarm bells and pump. Both off. No antidepressants today, not for the last weeks. Shower and wash, like every day.

        The mobile ‚phone, the pen, and the refill for the pen.

        The run has risen and is covering the tower of Martins church in orange light, at least the

top half- The street itself is still in blue shadow, a soft light caused by reflection from the blue sky.

There is a man taking pictures with his mobile 'phone at the bus stop. The sunlit church tower has taken his fancy. The smoker, and the morning greetings. Morgen.

 Anastasia has the coffee ready before being asked again.The crowd about the Hedgehog's table are possibly the same as last year. A sort of annual recurrence. 

        But never mind the cafe today- go straight to the platform, as the train is in already. The maintenance work on the train lines will be done next week anyhow

Landscape views from the train have changed from Winters bare vistas to the green and

thriving vegetation covered fields and forests of early summer.

Because tomorrow is yet another holiday, the train is not of full as yesterday, as usual. Even the platform at Moos burg is relatively empty.

Pass the barn, with the big 'x' on the door, and see the marsh landscape down by the river.

These are all things that are there every day.

some things return year after year, some are to be had all the time, and sone things are only there once only.

But then, who is to know? Perhaps sone of these are just on a very long scale, like sunspots. Only every eleven years. Or other  astronomical phenomena.

at Freising, change for the slow train, the local city train. Listen to people holding forth on their mobile 'phones. Why do these people always speak in such loud voices? Must they shout over the othery? Across the ether

The train leaves F reining, passing over the flat pebbled fields left by millennia of river flooding.

And this is, yet again, the last workday of this week. 

junetwo

the dreams have made wakening a distant phenomenon, happening to someone else like, like not yours truly;
the sound of the beeping clock is  hard to identify as such. Why was sleep so deep? Not complaining, thankful for small mercies in rough times.
One shower experience later, put on the clothes, collate the parts needed for work, and set the clock. Thats that get out of the house.
Streets still damp from the midnight rain and a lone cyclist makes his way over the cobbles, speeding to work in a black outfit.
Church bricks clear and visible today, as yesterday.

At the bus stop one group of ten pigeons and another of four, accompanied by two ducks. That is all there is today. Company of primarily ornithological interest. The pigeons cooly wander about the road, convinced that cars are harmless.







Leaving the bus  at the station, that pigtailed smoker standing square. Why is there such a howl in the head, why why o why.
Young girl at yorma’s gives out a coffee for a ten times stamped discount card. The train is in already, not on its usual platform. No café today, just go staight to the train and, after asking an informative railway officer whether this is the train to munich or not, get in, sit down, drink coffee write this.

Halfway through, realise that the technology has gone up the spout or down the tubes. So read John Barth in the train.
Goats, make believe goats, mating goats, goats mated by make believe goats, University goats.


A great goat account

day one week forty five 2015

1 june 2015

        It is bright, it is five in the morning, the machines are off. In the bathroom, observe a large pimple on the left hand side of the nose, annoying. Clothes on, look in the mirror. Change the cheek skirt, it looks gaudy.

        Down the stairs and out of the door into the lane way. Brightly sun-illuminated empty alley. Church lane, dry and fresh. Every brick of the church is clearly visible, the nave window rising vertically  at the end of the street, point upward.Walk down the right hand side of the narrow pavement, cross the church forecourt, all the cobbles felafel through the thinsoled summer slip-in shoes. Through the town gate and see the bus number four standing at the stop. Watch it roll away again. At least, its wheels are rolling.

        Passing the bus step a girl with black hair, fashionable tight black trousers, hair in a swinging ponytail and a tight black jacket. Her gait becomes increasingly awkward as she approaches the town gate, her hands searchi her pockets, her bag, looking for a fag.

        Under the gate' itself she pauses for a second to ignite her cigarette, and proceeds onward smoking into  the town. She used to wear a white down jacket and white shoes. These have been changed for a black summer jacket and black shoes.

        She still lights her early morning, five thirty five, cigarette under the big gate at the entrance to the town. Some habits remain despite the weather, others change with the weather.

        There is an inquisitive 'pigeon here too, attentivelyobserving the search for change in the trouser pockets.

Perhaps it is awaiting the production eatables, of fallen or thrown crumbs. - No such luck.

The smoker at the station talking to a fellow smoker, outside the yellow rectangle painted upon the ground. Anastasia has a new colleague, and is impatient. The new girl is big, fair-haired and intent. Diligent. and attentive, listening to small Anastasia's instructions... Hedgehog is there, talking to the brown-haired woman. She has not been here for a long time now, and indeed Hedgehog looks very serious.

        The train is at the wrong platform today. On account of there being works done to the tracks down the line.

- And the way to work, in the same as always,

now light, then dark, ggreen foliage or drag, as the season demands it.

Leave the first train in Freising and change platform, to board the local train serving

 Munich city and environs,.