cro monday

Balcony doors open all night, small table two chairs there, louvréd shutters, view across scrub to blocks of flats in the distance, like anthills for people.
Socialist living concept, everyone gets their little box to be born in, to live in, and ultimately to die in.
that is it. It is hot and humid, south of the Alps.

from the flat window in Pula

The sea is not far away, the son is up, starts the coffee machine. And it burbles in the background whilst he listens to grown men sqwalk like children, celebrating their successes and failures at a childrens game on the internet. A small mobile telephone that shows pictures and connects with the landlords internet systemt, his complex conflict with routers and boosters and repeaters and whateverhaveyou.
Technological electrickery.

The coffee is made, another day can begin. Another day of unrelaxed holiday making, trying to live up to some ideal of urlaub, sun sea sand and hanging about just as you would do at home, only somewhere else.
Just strange visual input, no communication with the local people here, who are just trying to get on with their own lives and struggles with each other and trying to ignore the anti-hibernational influx of strangers.
Strangers with money, but who are otherwise boring, uninteresting beach-bumming cash cows, who think that they have a right to order but all they have is the right to pay.
Fair enough, it is their country.

holiday sunday in a strange place.

awaken, a new bed.
A flat in croatia, kroatien.
hr.

Late awakening after a long drive yesterday, over the alps, through the alps, across borders, areas of old strife and conflict.

All is quiet now, all is peaceful. The early morning hum of the near town comes in through the window, open all night, air conditioning conditions the air all night.
Sun is bright from a clear sky.
Resolve to get up and put on the kettle, boil water.
check the technology, the wireless local area network is functional today, the computer can see it.

Small utilitarian room, under the peak of the roof, two storied. Small stairway goes up to the space under the peak of the roof reserved for sleeping. Small space well planned, for three people ,

Listen to the sound of motorbikes in the distance, racing relaxation for boy racers, video games in reality. Changing gears late, high revving.
Saw them last night, crouched over the vehicles tank, one with the machine, partner on the back, crouched over the driver, thrills, bare legged helmeted, armoured fantasy, warrior couples on a mission, what mission is unknown.
most unsafe, spectacular. Things have not changed since the ancient greeks illustrated their vases and the romans with their mosaics.

Instant coffee and bread. Doing it yourself has its disadvantages, it is necessary to find out how things work in a new country.
But the people are friendly.
Outside the dogs bark and howl, local society animals, there are barking dogs everywhere.
Cats are to be seen hunting among the bushes, covering the fields to the rear, no crops, just scrub land covered in thorny looking bushes.
Each cat minds its own area, protects it from the competition.
This behaviour must have some relevance to the long-time survival of the species as such.
Cat psychology.

five on a saturthday morning

that old adversary, the alarm, makes noises at five, known noises, immediate reactions.
That is : turn the beeping machine off, silence it. Take off that maddening mask, that killer of lousy dreams.
go to the bathroom, wash the teeth, brush the nose, not awake enough to do everything right yet. But hings will improve, yes they will.
The cat is there, all apurr, begging to be fed. Why, any hour will do, being fed is to all appearances of ultimate importance to the little feline,
She is growing fast.
Grind the coffee for the maker in the grinder, fill the bialetti, turn on the gas, take the bags downstairs.
today is the day we drive to pula in  crow-asia, the family must leave early to be there on time.
Pour out coffee, drink a cup, get the clothing on, and :
having established that the family is awake, get the car, driving home from pthe parking spot through the sleepy town.
Put all the bags into the car, and go back upstairs to drink coffee with the family.

And then, we are all off on a holiday drive, forcing a steel blade on an asphalt path through the heart of the enormous mighty alps

dawn light and bells in the distance,always six bells, the more distant ones starting later. It is as if the day was started by some supernatural bell ringer rushing away from the sleeper, madly getting all the bells in hearing distance rung, the final  bells being the most faint away in the distance. Those ten kilometres away are later by thirty seconds anyway, and the poor insane bell ringer cannot do them all at once anyway.

Get up, bathroom, brush the teeth. The cat jumps in through the opened window, mornings greeting, purrr and small cat call, food-wanting.

Toilet first, teeth and shave. The cat is patient, take the cat food tin from the fridge and dollop some of the food on the cats plate. Attentive purr and feeding noises from Miriam the cat, the cat that will be alone all week, but for the neighbour´s children.

Put this grey machine on the table, and then see to it that the coffee is ground, close all the doors to contain that sound.

Empty the machine and fill it again, using the beans just broken. Listen to the people outside, bavarian loud, shouting butchers delivering dead animal parts to their shop. There is a thought of pressed rat and warthog, ginger baker and cream.

But all this goes with the sound of the bialetti, coffee completti, a slice of toast cheese and tomato.

At seven the day is brighter now. The butcher shop woman bellows into the street, they have not finished with their deliveries yet.

And the aircraft flying in to munich airport pass overhead, one every quarter of an hour.

and still the lovely peace of the morning, the sounds of the day have not yet combined to a steady roar, there are single birds (crow) to be heard, passing cars on their own, and now the whine of a hydraulic digger on some errand. And now one bell, it is a quarter past seven.

late awakening lazy thursday

it is good to sleeep late and not to be concerned with the inexplicable activities of those who pay the wages and cannot give clear instructions regarding their requirements.
It is good to keep a distance from the confusion of people who while in charged with authority as a result of their knowing facts, seem unable to describe the requirements of the job at hand.

Good Morning.

After three weeks of leave from work, the neccessity of all those adjusting pills and treatments seems more distant. Doping and drugging to maintain a functionality in an impersonal environment, in a space where structures are unknown and unexplained, where leaders who cannot lead end up doing their charges work, demanding credit from them for this, an exclamation of inefficiency, a dull inability to explain their wishes, just ending in abrupt commands sweeping an area that is beyond the abilities of a single person to cover, saying "Go" without ever having said where.

Expecting "things" that have been done by a team as a matter of course, as a matter of procedure, to be done by a single person.

Stop dreaming.

The coffe is made, everybody hanging about in corners, waiting.
Go out, get bread. After having dressed of course.
Queue at the bakers store, get some pretzels, return- it is a lovely day now, and put the bretzels on the table.
Now everyone sits down. all three for
breakfast.



"I think somebody is making fun of me."
Is this paranoia? Or is it just depression.

A summer of shortening days

the dust from the sanding machine used in the stairwell remains behind the eyelids, and awakening is late. This is the time off work, weeks saved over the years, days saved over the months, leave.
Sleep late, and be fussed over by the cat, it will do anything to get the attention of the wielder of the tin opener, the master of the cat food.
The coffee made, the machine filled, the gas turned on. Hiss.
And feed the cat, it is climbing up the trouser legs now.
As has been said already, anything to gain attention.
Cats are small and furry, and make nice pets.

Ponder on all the repeated comments on this writing, all the copies of past messages, there must be a robot, an inefficient robot at that, working his way through the pages.
thank YouRobot, mr Anon.

The sun is back outside, and the noise from street repairs up the road is still to be heard, but as they have now moved around a bend in the street, the sound is muffled.

Deep silence at home, people are not getting up, and the day is flowing away..

At five thirty, there is no reason to awaken, but awaken anyhow.

At five thirty, there is no reason to awaken, but awaken anyhow. Take of the mask, the mask that is turning from a help to an irritation. And stay in bed, why make noises to wake up the household when there is no need to awaken them. The cat is awake anyway.

At seven thirty take out the rubbish containers. It is the bin day today, the day the town employees visit the street and empty the rubbish from all of the plastic rubbish bins. Into the yard, take the bin by the handle and wheel it out into the street. The tools used for yesterdays work sanding all the floorboards are still at the foot of the stairs, clear them away later.

In the flat the little cat is all purrs, wanting attention. It jumps up on to the keyboard of the piano and plays a sort of a melody by walking over the keys.  Then it starts to play with a glass marble on the floor, setting it in motion with its paws and then hunting it.

The day is grey and chilly, and fill the coffee grinder, grind the coffee. Fill the machine and place it on the flame of the gas cooker. Feed the cat, give it its daily cat food slop. Now the cat is happy, and the son comes in with a cup in order to make coffee for his mother,

When it is ready, fill the cups, and watch the son put in sweetener and milk for the wife and bring the result into the bedroom.

Listen to the increasing noises of the wakening town, the sound of activity in the grey streets with the colourfull houses.

Another day

Aye, I eye, Monday.

Holiday monday, noise loud from the street, car tyres a-rumble, each approaching and then receding grumble a person on the way to work, four noisy tyres, at least one ton of metal and plastic surrounding each person on their errand

Wake up, take off the mask. Only six hours twenty seven minutes sleep today, this will cause suffering later in the day. But a night of pleasant dreams, forgotten, as dreams that have concluded are.
The cat jumps in through the window, loud purr, demanding food and feeding. The pet gets it´s head stroked, it is probably disappointed.

To the bathroom, to be disturbed by frantic knocks on the door, the son has risen and has an urgent need of the facilities offered therein. So back to the bedroom, where the cat just fed by the son wants more of everything. A human trait in a feline.

The day is quiet yet, the young man playing at his computer, the old man writing at his. Peaceful days, soon to be ended with a frenetic holiday journey to the sea and afterwards a return to work.


The sound of children outside, slamming car doors, starting engines. The neighbours are under way, and the bells ring for eight in the morning.

Think about the things that will need doing for today, and think about getting work clothing on. This beastly his in the right ear is getting louder again, will it drive the rest of the body insane.
And all are so selfcentred here, when they could get on better if they did their things together, rather than staying in bed for half of the day and waiting for the money to come in. But that is the way of things, new tricks for old dogs are hard and mostly fruitless labour.

august Sunday the twenty third

therapies are strange when they work, when they cure. That sudden absence of the problem making the continued application of the cure appear unnecessary, as if it never had been necessary. Those terrifying dreams of asphyxiation, of powerlessness, are gone. The couch mares are gone to be replaced by other dreams dealing with daily things, with sensual things other than just paralysis, terror and awakening.

Gone.
Falling asleep is not much easier, and a wide awake day without its downs is not here either. The breathing mask is not a panalgetic, but remember, those specific dreams that were only entertainment for others have left the premises.


It is a cool sunday, distant bells tinkle, nearby ones pound out there brazen sounds.
There is not a sound from the street, cars are mostly all distant, far away. A single one stops in the street, the engine is turned off, and footsteps recede into the distance. A pigeon coos, and there is the distant sound of an ambulance, or a fire brigade
Then there is complete peace again.
Even the cat has retired, it´s frenetic search for food satisfied by a small heap presented on a plate.
The coffee is made too, weaker today, not as intolerably overstrong as it is sometimes, by chance and carelessness

And now the cat is at the window

SA silent blue sky.

blue sky with white clouds like pluckings from a wad of cotton, yellow lighting in the room from the reflection of the sun in the yellow colored house opposite.
Sit at the table, push aside yesterdays salad bowl. The little tricolor cat arrives purring steadily, wanting attention and demands feeding. Cats, small familiars. Jumps onto the table and rubs her head on the writers arm. Jumps to the window and admires the view. Constant content purr.

It is eight in the morning, the bells say so. And it is a silent day, up until now.
Give the cat some cat food, from a tin in the refrigerator. It picks at it carefully, piece by piece, little bits at a time, Concentrating on its catfood, it stops purring.

Grind the coffee, and fill the Italian espresso maker, moka expres, or whatever they like to call it.
and return to the table, listen to the hiss of the gas and the hiss in the head. Gas to the left, tinnitus on the right.
They are both much the same.
The coffee makes a burbling noise as it ascends the pipe in the machine.

The madness of two years ago, has left and now there is just a quite misery saying that things could easily be so much worse.

free fri frum day

is it not strange to awaken as one wills and wants, letting the day take the strain of living and not trying to squeeze more out of a resistant system? Bells at six, check that all is in order, just go back to sleep. Is normality just resting or would normality be the daily rush to be on time for the bus and the train, to get to work. Three hours spent on public transportation.

Get up at seven forty five, tooraloo. The little cat, all afluster all in a tizzy all excited, calling for breakfast, purr, maou, rihap?
Cat noises in need of a new alphabet for their adequate description, phonetically. Anything else, anything non-phonetic, would require a good understanding of these instinctive cat sounds.
Pet her, Purr.
Make up the coffee machine, to prepare for the day. cut slices of bread in an attempt to get  a breakfast together, and butter and cheese.
That works.
Sit down to type, type the above and the below.
Examine the old camera, a beautiful construction, german engineering of the sixties, contax.
It all works, it all works perfectly.
The advances in optics are not so great as to make a major difference to todays cameras. Disregarding the electronic sensor.
Of course.

Due to computers there are more people writing and reading than there used to be.
short frenetic notes.
Writing in itself has not improved.

No service Thursday

sleep late, a good rest, a test.
Son is up, sitting on the living room couch. The cat a-purr, begging for food, even though it has plenty on its plate.
Dry biscuit and what it wants is fresh tin. All phoney.
Son has a new fascination, eight millimeter films, their projection. His grandfather gave him an old projector yesterday, and all the eight millimetre family memories, the wife as a very young girl. and so he gets the thing and sets it up in the sitting room and makes noises.
A very loud humming noise.
Outside traffic, building workers, pounding the sand they use to fill the holes dug during the week, pounding it into place with machinery that seems to make all of the surroundings shake, a low vibration.
Bad vibrations.
Bells ring
and the tinnitus howls, left hand side in the head.
And during all of this, just make breakfast coffee.
wait, suffer and bear it all.
Every one does their own thing.

Take the coffee.
more bells
cat complains, it is losing it's kitten voice.
The son turns on the television.
Tinnitus is moving to both ears now,
Madness.
There is no one to talk to nothing to think of do anything it is wrong, run anywhere and it is nowhere, feel hardship, and be reminded that it could be worse, that it is worse for others, a steady impingement on the head and unclarity as to what to do next.

Today is a bad day, destructive and alone.

Wednesday, second week of the summer break

wake into silence, window light, grey sky, none of yesterdays reflection of white condensation trails from passing aircraft in the balcony windows. Time passes, cooler air.
up at eight in the morning.
Little cat purring in anticipation of feeding. Take the cat plate and fill it with water to clean it. Leave it in the sink, and leave the cat purring in anticipation
Toodaloo.
And then to the kitchen, find the coffee, fill the machine, grind the beans bought on Monday, fill the itallian expresso cooker, aluminium patent machine, big Bialetti.
Clear the used pans from the gas cooker, put the Bialetti on.
tick tick -woof. The gas jet bursts into flame with a small dull explosion, the coffee is on the make.

The son sitting on the couch in the living room, long hair astray,waves. and lies back on the sofa. He has been up late at his computers again, pages of code and systems that work.
Most of the time.

The workers on the street nearby have commenced their noise yet again. The hum of a hydraulic digger, becoming louder and then quiet again as it scoops the earth and stones out of the road, making a trench for pipes or cables or both to be laid into before they are covered with sand. Heat and power for everybody, and afterwards people will say that it is the radiators, or the sockets.
What is under the ground will be forgotten. The noise of a chain saw cutting timber interrupts this background low noisce with its raucous vibrations.


Read the news on the computer. An author, same age as wildo, has gone sick with cancer, and will die soon.  Why does he announce this, who is spreading such news? Does he want commiserations for the rest of his life?

Every individual has an own way of dealing with the facts of life and death.
This news is a reminder that there are things that need doing, need to have been done in time.

Read the news in the computer.
A man in a yellow shirt puts down a rucksack. Bombs in Thailand. That is repellent.

Sound of bells, half past bells, three quarter past bells , seven o´clock bells. Eleven bells, four for the hour, seven to say which hour. That is it, get up bathroom.
Back to bed for a little while, and then get up, get dressed, go to the sitting room and look out of the window. No rubbish collection today, unless every single neighbour has forgotten today. Well, if not today then tomorrow.
Pet the cat, it purrs. They are such comfort-loving animals. Rolls on its back, tummy scratch.
Purr.
Clothes on, find the wallet and then the shoes. leave the house, and walk down the town on this foggy day. Go to Mareis bakery, all are dressed as if the weather was cold, but it is not. Six brezn and three small rolls encrusted with sun flower seeds.
Martin´s church spire is lost in the fog, there are few people on the street. A dumpster with orange lights flashing collects biological waste from the restaurants. It has a promise written on its side saying that this waste will be turned into electricity. There is the sound of distant heavy plant, digging the holes in the road for communal heating systems.
There is no sense of hurry, not like earlier in the morning, when all the commuters are on their way. It seems earlier at eight than at six, almost peaceful, apart from the workers noise.
Return , and place the rolls on the table for breakfast later. The cat inspects the bread rolls, and in a most unfeline way attempts to eat on. Cats do not normally eat bread, but this little female feline will give anything a tray that her humans eat.
Then she manouveres herself to the open window to observe the progress of the day as shown by the goings-on in the street

And now the fog has lifted and the sun come out.

grey cool monday morning in the middle of August

the bells of seven, slept badly. Why can there be no simple deep sleep.
Hear a mobile phone somewhere makeing sounds saying it´s calendar has a date to remind the owner of.
Take the mask off, seven o´clock bells sounding.
Too da loo.
Alone in the flat, there is no-one awake. Late night television has taken it´s toll, and the son is sleeping the long sleep of youth.

In the big room listen to the street noises. Chatter, a group of women, going by the voices. Peer out of the window and see that it is a group of women, going to work, going to do their jobs.
There is the sound of a street cleaning machine, brushing, washing and sucking up the weekend´s dust on this grey cool monday morning in the middle of August. It will be back later, to cleanse the othe side of the street.
The son gets up, and adjusts his mobile ´phone. Comes across to the table, bids his father good morning, gives him a hug. Those days will pass, there will be times for proper handshakes sometime later.

The street noises are now louder, the clatter of doors, the rush and rumble of tyres on the cobbled streets, gradually merging now, later on it will be a constant roar.
There is the sound of some computer game from the sons room, he should make up his room before playing. But, no matter. He refreshed his latin words yesterday, there are many of them. He should know them all, and that is hard for a twelve year old when there are so many other items of interest about.

There is the sound of a diesel, then silence.
look out again, the workers who were digging up the street at the end of the road last week are now removing their barriers. They will set them up elsewhere to dig up other streets.
But that is why it is so quiet. The big digging machines are silent.
More women pass by on the street, gasping out early morning news and greetings to each other.
The house opposite is of a duller yellow today, the light of the sun filtered and softened by clouds.

sunday morning in August 2015

Sleep finished, tinnitus is still there, there are fewer ugly dreams with the mask, less fear of choking, fewer dreams of helplessness when in adverse situations,  dreams of panic and paralysis are gone. It is a helpful gadget, but it will not make you fall asleep. It will stop sleep being stolen by ugly dreams.

The sky is covered in rain clouds, the wet ground outside confirms that it rained in the night. It being Sunday there is silent outside but for the calls of the children in the house opposite, and the sound of the bells, telling out the time. They will ring out for services later.
The sound of jets flying past behind the clouds, and otherwise periods of utter silence. No car engines and none of their attendant rumbling road noises, just children playing in the distance.
They are up early as well. It is good to hear them.
The son and the wife are asleep, late night television has taken it´s toll.

Cold coffee and toast, the noise of grinders would be pointless. There are no coffee beans, tomorrow it will be possible to get them afresh. So cold coffee from old beans. A step away from the luxury to which we have become accustomed.

hissel wistle, like a radio, white noise in the head. Damage from the past, disturbing.

It is drizzling light rain outside now, water in moderation for crops that would have needed abundance some weeks ago. It is enough to wet the roads and to keep the people indoors for now. And now the sound, pattering and spattering.
The peace is broken by a passing car.
It passes.
The little noises of the rain and the children have their chance again.
noiseties niceties.
and this morning is peaceful, quiet.

A person in a black raincoat and carrying a white umbrella and wearing white shoes goes around the corner by the church. Just a striding figure in the distance.
In the rainy glaring light, which dazzles from all sides, scattered soft light of the sun which is hidden somewhere up there.

saturday middle august

no pressure day, saturday, quiet outside, holiday times.
The day is cool, the sky covered with clouds. There was a short rain in the night, not much. The leavings of a thunderstorm elsewhere in this current weather system.

Take of the mask, the mask that has ended those nightmares of choking and immobility, they have never returned.
Good riddance.

and off to the bathroom. decide to wash later, do this first.

Sitting at the table, piano and ironing board, door to the sons room opposite. The cat comes in and goes to the open window, settles there to admire the goings on in the street. Front paws almost in the air.

There are no sounds of workmen outside today, a few clattering noises in the distance, maybe the shutting of doors, the click of heels proceeding up the road, to silence.

A lazy day today,
at the sound of eight bells the cat leaves the window and strolls across the floor, leisurely, to the kitchen.
Follow, to make coffee.
find that there is none. The coffee has run out. There are no beans. Well then. Too bad.

Tinnitus hiss is there on the right, a thing not be got rid of, a thing to be ignored.

And sit on for a while, is it worthwhile to go to a shop to get coffee?
Look out of the window where the cat had been earlier. Listen to the neighbours little daughters opposite starting there early morning chat. Little children´s voices.
And then the martins´s bell sounded once.
Quarter past.
Time to get washed and to put on day clothes.
And meanwhile the clouds have receeded.

the sun ot up yet

awaken, and remove the alien blowing air into the nose, and relax for a few minutes more. The hops in the small back yard are doing their best to grow, even though their light is blocked by the surrounding buildings.
And off to the bathroom.
pddl tinkle.

Kitchen, it is only six thirty, make up the coffee machine with coffee ground last night. This makes less noise and causes less umbrage, keeps the peace for all.
The sound of the refrigerator grumbling to itself, working hard  this warm early morning.
Listen to people talk , their sound coming in off the street, the slam of house doors, the starting of cars.

and then a period of silence


It is being alone with a family of ones own. A family of three, each one on a course of their own, the value of home, even if it is in a form that was never planned or even expected.


and a car drives up the street, the driver not bothering to change out of first gear. It would be great if all cars were electrical, there would be peace but for the chatter of people on the street.

Traffic.









Suspicion of praises, pleasure at receiving them. Such a complete absence of criticism is almost obscene, strange.

light reflected from the sky

it breaks in through the open window before the sun is up, light reflected out of the atmosphere, deflected around the planet, coming in grey and silent.

A sort of thief of the night, coming in in silence when most of the population are asleep.
whatever

get up, bathroom. It is six thirty, sleep for six and a half hours acording to the pressure turbine blowing air into the nose all night. six and a half hours, few events per hour.
Take a shower, wash yesterday´s grease out of the grey hair.
The mirror shows a man with a sunburnt face, that which had been white is now red brown and so forth.
As this account enters the internet, the sun rises and light up the top story of the yellow house on the other side of the street.

And the crashing sounds of things being loaded sound comes from the end of the road. It may be the building workers, having finished their road repairs.
Upon looking out of the window it becomes obvious that building workers had filled their green delivery van at one end of the street, the road repair people at the other end have not yet strarted their work.
It is seven thirty, and there are two bottles of carbonated drinking water on the table, and a bottle of raspberry sirup.

And it is very quiet and peaceful now.
The sunlight filtered yellow reflects from the house opposite and fills this room furnished in a style that ended one hundred and fifteen years ago.

Wednesday, home and quiet.

The clock makes its unecessary noises, must fix it, no need to get up at five in the morning, no need at all.

Outside there is a loud chorus of pigeons, cooing to each other, conversing in coos. A few noises of a few street users, over time with increasing frequency, the rumble of rubber tyres over cobblestones. Single voices, noisy scooters, and the occasional jet taking the route over Landshut to approach Munich airport.

The coolness of the morning enters the windows, before the day turns scorching hot with the sun pouring it’s blistering light out of a cloudless sky. 

Everyone wanted a hot summer, now they have it.

And the tinny tussy  hisses with a sound like a gas jet, it would be taken for a gas jet were it not for the fact that it changes it´s location with the rotation of the head.

Sitting alone in the big room, the front room. The noise of the excavators digging up the roads dominates the soundscape now, the rumble as cobbles are torn up, the steady hum of the diesel engine as it drives the hydraulics.

It is now seven forty nine, still the wife and the son are sleeping. 

and, sorry for those searching for humor, today it will not be delivered.

Not here.

Tuesday like a noisy Sunday Morning

clocks noise silenced, too early, leave off work today, today and four weeks more.

Time to get involved in home improvements, trying to produce a system. Every person needs a system, some try to develop it themselves, make a theme for themselves, others want it ready made. Home improvements, how to live.

Stay in bed, until the backaches go, the shoulder aches, the tension of waiting for the chopper to fall, to seperate the head from the heart. That was the situation at work, four weeks to recover, and then to put the neck on the block again

Get up, finally the call of nature prevails. On the way to answer such calls see the little cat on the window sill. Pet it and it purrs. A very pretty cat, worth a picture. A three-coloured cat.

So put on a shirt and go into the kitchen. Make coffee, lost in the hopelessness oful it all, try to keep the grinder silent so that the rest of the family can sleep on. Hopeless, grinders are always noisy. They make a grinding noise.

Meanwhile the son has put his laptop on the table, an ancient laptop ten years old, still working. It can add subtract multiply and memorise its behaviour better than any human, has no knowledge of what it is doing, and never questions why. It is mindless, and yet it will fulfill functions for which humans recieve praise from humans: example "WoW you really have a way with numbers" OMG your memory is good" and yet it is no more than a tool, a notebook, an abacus, a transmitter, an automatic machine. A crutch, a prosthetic item. Like a weapon, which does not make anyone stronger, just more dangerous.

Thus the mind starts to wander, and it is worthwhile to start doing the things on hand rather than to to spend more time writing for people who will not put their name , or even their pseudo-name to their opinion. 

Hecklers shooting their comments out of the darkness of their being anonymous.

It is going to be a hot day, the municipal workers outside have emptied the rubbish containers and the building workers are tearing up the roads to put down new pipes, for a municipal heating system.

And the son comes in to play the theme from Mindcraft.

On the piano, from the score bought some years ago.

monday,last workday, mop up and stow

alarm in the dark again, the winter solstice is approaching again, the summer solstice left behind in June.
Turn it off, take the stuffy mask down
stuff it away on the dumb waiter beside the bed.

get up, let the wife go to the bathroom first.
Find the things I need, find the mobile phone
All in the bag.

Bathroom shower, like everyday.
Up to the workroom, under the attic,
the little cat follows, curious, searching for novelty.
Tail fluffed like a pipe cleaner.



Blue car day today, there is no need for the train
It is a  journey,
a short trip of fifty kilometres.
And before it has begun,
return to fetch the wallet.
Live is harder without cash.
Close the sitting room windows

no café today, not for another four weeks

And on the motorway see the sun rise
in the car mirror
A huge red globe, deformed as it shows over the horizon
going west
going to work
it is early,
and there is hardly any traffic

hot morning sorrow

it is a hot morning again, one of those that has now turned to a sort of normality. The air is drying out over these hot weeks, it is not so unpleasant anymore.
it is seven thirty, to da loo, morning chores as always.
as it is sunday, do the minimum.

Two days recovery time from the daily grind of work are just enough to feel hope that it can be done differently and then, well back again, back to the usual mill.
Unproductive manufacture, the culture of man in superior positions vain ideas, which in themselves are nothing but the futile attempt to obtain favour from those who run the university. The man will rediscover the wheel, in the conviction that the wheel that he discovers is a better wheel. Two days to recover from all this, and then five days spent in self-conviction that the time wasted repeating work, in setting up what has worked well in the past,   is just an unfortunate mishap, this is the duty of any employee in base employment. To be glad of ones wage and to adroitely pull the forelock, payee before payer. Still, it is hard to bear those who must demonstrate their power in the fear that their inability to exercise it productively will become apparent.

unwashed undressed, now in sleeping clothes before breakfast of toast, an egg, and the coffee made whilst thinking of the time wasted in the past. In the sure recognition that it will be wasted in the future.

the weather has now become really hot, unusually so. Bells ring for mass, outside. People in the street, talk.

time to wash and put proper clothes on.

saturday ate,

awaken late, the light from a cloudless sky after sunrise lighting the bedroom. get up and go to the bathroom. It is warm. not hot yet. On the way back the cat rubs its back on those passing legs, begging to be petted, to have her head patted.

The little cat gets her attention, and purrs so very loudly.

On this little laptop computer there is no news worth really reading, there is nothing happening in the world that is worth the reporters while.

Set up the coffee machine

Outside there are sounds of awakening town, people moving boxes, and brushing in entrance ways. Cleanliness. Not up to swiss standards, of course. no way.

tinnitus in the right ear, a rumble from the coffee maker, and continue to write these notes. The children next door have awakened, they most likely have something planned for today. The sound of a bicycle being collected, the tenant accountant is under way.

there is nothing to write about.

Wait in apprehension of the beginning day.

The wife and the son are both sleeping

first August Frieda 2015

        Priday 7 August 2015

        Up before the bells stop sounding, and was.

        It is clear outside, the dawn is still a while away. And on the return to the bedroom greeted by a loud purring from the kitten. Purring is the loudest noise that it makes. rather:- She makes the noise, she is a cat, not an it.

        and find the clothing for the day where it is always is to be found, in the wardrobe, hanging. Or in the shelves. It depends upon what it is Socks in shelves, drawer in drawers.

        Downstairs, and into the alley. The street lights are on, and at the end of the alley the spire of Mortin's* church reaches into the light of dawn.

        The market is being set up on the main street, fish purportedly from Cuxhaven, cheese and vegetables sold as local. Farmers selling produce. All for those who are fans of food during the week.

        The river level has sinken,it has not been so low in years. The farmers are complaining, but so what, they always do. It is always too hot, dry cold, wet, stormy.

        *. And at the bus stop the street lights go out.

        The station plaza is bare of people. It is holiday season..

        Alice and her colleague are there at Yorma’s station café working side by side to serve coffee 'and cigarettes, buttered rolls, Brezels and fruit Salats.

        She serves the coffee.

        Alice? Yes, Alice, thank you Alice.

Hot day, sixth of August

Bathroom, shower water on, and as it has warned take the warm, tinnitu silencing shower. afterwards return to the bedroom, plunder the wardrobe for fresh clothing, find the shoes, after a search find the watch on the bedside table. Pick up the packed black bag.

Half way down the stairs realise that the glasses an not on the face as usual. Return and search the

whole flat to finally find them on the small wall table in the big room. All the while the cat rewards the unusual morning activity with playful ambushes on the early morning legs moving through it's domain.

        Late, into the deserted alley, past the church. The sky is starting to glow behind the  illuminated street lighting. Theater Street is deserted too..

        start counting the passing cars whilst waiting for the bus to arrive. Most of the drivers are women, and all of them are alone in their big, always at least four seater, ears. "Early morning stress for the nervous system.

        A big girl on a white bicycle passes. She is really tall, not just big, and cycles gracefully. She is wearing white tights.

        Receive a dirty look from the buss driver on account of 'the proffered note. It is only a five. the smallest note... But- still a note.

        There is a crowd at the cafe, a dark-haired girl with brown-framed glasses is serving. This is not Alice, she is the name height but of a different manner. ‚„Der Nächste" in her call, Next please in English. Not as piercing, or as demanding as "Alice!"

        The cafe is deserted, all the usual customers are on holi’days. And thus to the platform, now full of people in light clothing.

        The radio announcer having said last night that today will be a hot day. 

vive eight fifteen

Wed, 5.8.15

a broken sleep, elated by the mask. It is still early dawn, and dark outside when the clocks strike five. fumble the alarm until it is silent..

Shower and brush the teeth.

so let the day continue. Check the contents of the black bag and- Oh the cat was left in the corridor last night. Let her in, hear the bells sound Twice, and leave the house. Yesterdays man is just passing, on his way up the alley.

Down theater street, see a large heap of blue plastic bags mixed up with the yellow ones. Rumour has it that the bin man do not take any other bags but the official yellow ones.

And the office man and the office woman. Wish them good morning.

The river is deplete, it is over two feet under the low water mark.The dry weather.. Deplete with water....

There are nine  gulls and a pigeon sitting , or rather perched on a wall by the river. Maybe they are awaiting the Sunrise, or the unwise old man who feeds them crumbs every day.

A lone runner proceeds up alongside the river, with ponytail swing. A police car rushes by, driving fast and with police power immunity. The street lights go out before the bus arrives,

The holiday reason has started, the space outside the station is empty. No smokers.

Inside big Blondy is doing her job efficiently, feeding the multitude, stamping the discount cards. The cafe itself is empty.

On board the train, there are no more seats than users. People with bags have deposited suitcases on the seats, so that one holidaymaker occupies three seats.. Nobody uses the luggage racks any more.

The train is finally filled 'n Marburg...

This is the beginning of another day that will we likely just be wasted. 

chews day

4 August 201S

        Dark, turn the machine off, and the other one to. Sleep is better with that breathing apparatus.

        go through the dusks to the bathroom, shower wash and all. - Wear fresh clothes today, yesterdays party with all the smoke, and that episode with the fire extinquisher has left yesterday’s clothing in need of a was.

        The cat is in we feed me made again. As it gets older, and gets to know the house and it's people,  it gets to know whats what.

        Finally collect all the things needed for this day. put them in the black bag and leave the house.

        Two bells. Ding Ding. One man in the alley already.

 At the bus stop has a new curiosity today. A person with a tingle, him sitting on a park bench, the baulk.-wheeled collapsible bicycle learning against 'n, working at a laptop computer. * He is wrapped up in a sleeping bag, his bags are on the bench too.

        There are gulls about today, far away from open water. They are fortging for food, they are competing with the ducks and the pigeons.

        There is no-one in front of the station today, there is just the still-broken door.

        Alice is serving, Alice is hard of hearing,

        she complains that her machines are too loud. Alice of the white rimmed spectacles. Her call of

''Alice?" "Alice" after every customer grates on the delikate matinal nerves.

The sun is just over the horizon as the train leaves hands hut, the landscape in blue shadows, and orange low-angled mntight glancing off its surfaces. There are small patches of fog about too, they will vanish as the run warms them.

It is tuesday, the second day of what feels like the fifth week  of the blog year. 

Montag, that will be all. ALLES!

3.8.2015

It is still predawn dark, the clerk in the clock ends the dreaming of work never to be done, of examinations never to be taken. The mask worked well, still the machine only registered four and a half hours sleep. get up for the bathroom, this regular daily event, wash, shower and shave.

Meet the cat in the passageway, she has hopes of food today. It is much too early. She sits down on the bed, watches, and purrs.

Dress for the day in the remaining darkness, check the contents of the bag, and leave the house. All of the streets are filled with a pre-dawn rosiness, the lights are still on.

A young woman smoking a cigarette approaches making her way along theater street.

A man eating a banana is at the bus stop. He is wearing a straw hat..

The church ofsaint Martin's stands out clearly again the morning sky, the little camera sees the clock on the tower as a face.

The wheels on the river are not turning any more due to the sluggish current in the river, the water

level has sank due to the lack of rain over the past weeks.

The man with the straw hat, upon finishing his banana, commences smoking a cigarette.

And there is insufficient charge for the bus driver, he must change a note.

The coffee at the station is disturbed by the piercing question of 'Alles?' from the girl serving, the one with the black hair and the white glasses. She makes this query after having served each and every customer. She is not calling for Alice, as non-Germans may think, she is asking "will that be all?"

That would wind better than the peremptory Alice. Ah……. now she has a name, let us call her Alice. As a regular guest here, she deseves a name.

The train is in really punctually, and there are fewer people than usual. The holiday reason has tasted.

And upon reaching free sing, the fog has lifted and the sun has it's innings. 

There are no crickets yet, they will be around later in the month.

sunday summer rain

It is raining outside and it is hot and stuffy inside. The steady hiss of the tinnitus in the background. Tinny tussi.
No memory of exactly what happened only seconds ago. The son is up looking at television, He goes to his room to start that computer and leaves the the television on.
Things are so depressing, there is no help for it, the help is invisible, so it is. It must be there somewhere.
Clear the kitchen workspace and make coffee. Still, the head is befuddled after dreams of metal shaping by bending, things that no-one appears to do anymore. It used to be everywhere, now all things seem to be of plastic, die cast, or machined metal.
It is strange, this change.
The little cat has developed a passion for marbles, rolling them over the floor, paw-kicking them, and carrying them about in her mouth. It is noisy, jarring the nerves. And she always projekts them under the piano in the end, out of reach.

It is still raining outside, the wife is in bed, the son is at his computer and the cat is going berserk.

Otherwise everything is ok.

Saturday

A mental fogginess, up at six, all is unclear. It is nice to relax in the bed, it is pointless to get up. Tiredness and backache, the littlecat purring in the corner. The loudest noise she can make is a purr, she has no voice, just a kitten’s squeak.
Got to the bathroom, annoyance at the loose tiles, at the lost tiles. At some stage there will be need for a professional tiler
and back to bed
No wish to even look at the all-pervading mess. The family just drops things that are not in use anymore, never puts them away.
hardly ever.

And sleep on untill the sun is high in the sky.
back in bed of course.

Saturday morning, a rest after a week that began in an aircraft last monday.