A day to be spent in bed untill this cold goes away.
The light from outside is grey, bluer sky yesterday, cold clouds today, all in grey.
Every cough is painful, it is good tha there are not too many of them.
Cough, the cold has caused a cold,, frio, resfriado. Shower, pleasant and warm, fresh socks and other clothing for the day.
Pack the little camera. who knows. A camera that needs manual focus.
The alley, bare, the lit shop, now bare, looking for tenants.
The shop is bare,, clean, brightly lit. Day and imght. There is no money to be made, not here.
There is a roar of engines from the main street, the one at the police station. Somebody is in a hurry.
And pass the now-closed discount bakery, the shop was closed because of the landlords greed.
The town gate behind, the bus stop ahead
At the bus stop, the old town behind, the cars rush by on the big road. Later on in the morning there will be traffic stoppages, despite the holiday season.
The station is quiet, empty. Compyritevely speaking.
A group of workmen approaches, soiled overalls. Maybe the same ones as yesterday. The coffee, a warm cup in the glaring fluorescent lights. The television is showing snippets of painful stupidities. The sound is off, but the show is called' science of stupid'.
Just so.
Leave for the train, the platform's number is six . That train sneaking in, coupling with the waiting train, opening the doors after that.
A few get out, a few get in.
get in, this is a carriage without tables. These notes were written in an orange book placed on a bag on the knees of the writer.
and the cough is worse, and now the train is rolling into Freising.
28th December 2016
Leave the house, much the same as every day. The nose is
bleeding, the skin on the bridge was damaged by the breathing
mask. Leave the house, it is cold outside. There is a man
coming. up the street, distributing newspapers door to door.
There is a big orange dumpsters collecting, organic
left-overs, from the restaurant at the corner. Blue bins.
A police car comes up the pedestrian zone, from the city
gate by the river. It is being driven slowly, the occupants looking
over the still sleeping town, making sure that all is in order.
Alone at the bus stop, watch the ears pass, each with
its single occupant. They all rush around the corner,
who knows exactly what they are doing; now between
christmas and new year.
The man is down at the wall again, calling to the
birds. He has brought something for them to eat, but there
are no birds there today. Maybe it is to cold, or maybe they are just not hungry.
The bus driver takes the money, the one Euro and ten
cents, and given a ticket. Those three twenty cent coins and
the fifty cent coin seem to confuse him, he is doing mental
arithmetic. It seems to be a strange, or unusual combination
of coins.
The station has a big delivery truck parked in front
of the main entrance, there are two people pulling out
stacks of boxes using pallet trucks. The man in the coffee
shop sees his regular customer approaching and puts a
paper cup into the machine, in readiness. Pay him his
money, and let him stamp the small ticket. Another two days,
and there will be a free cup of coffee.
It is very quiet in the cafe today. The television is
flickering badly, it is constantly losing its signal.
Now and again, pictures of bullfighters and bulls are to
be seen on the screen. Then car accidents. Bloody awful
breakfast television.
get up, go to the bathroom, and return to him off the clamour of the alarm clock. Put on the clothing for the day. The cat is sitting on the led, purring. Decide to wear the same trousers today as yesterday. go downstairs, check the position of the bicycles, there seems one hissing. Maybe it is the tenant's bicycle., yes it is. She must have collected it yesterday...
The street is cold, the air chilly. The remaining christmas market stalls in front of the clothing shop are forlorn now. in
- their Christmas decorations. Christmas is a year away now.
There is a group of men at the town gate, they are waiting to be collected. They are all dressed in soiled working clothes. A man is down by the wall by alongside the river feeding the ducks. They are flocking about, on the wall, waddling over the ground in the greatest of duck excitement.
The first aircraft have already passed on their way to Munich airport, the sound of their engines can be heard through the fog. It is only light fog, but enough to hide an airliner from view.
The bus arrives, and so board it, alone. The driver makes things complicated with the change., but he has time. There is no traffic on the rads, there are three passengers on the bus. He is ahead of schedule....
The cafe is appallingly slow today, the Italian girls are busy trying to organise their customers into a queu today, there are only two people working there today. This is holiday time.!
The train is empty, and this is how the day begins.
It is late and time to get up, there is no plan for the day, there is no need to go to work, there is nothing specific to be done. Other than cleaning up, yet again.
Alone in the flat, all are asleep. It is nine in the morning now.
The clocks say that too, the repaired clocks.
There is a computer hissing in the corner, running hot.
The son left that one one, perhaps playing game with his friends.
Computer litter.
They are everywhere, they can be had for free once they are a little bit older.
They are cheaper.
Take off the mask, pet the cat, go to the bathroom
These things are regular occurences.
Make coffee
The grey feeling in the head matched by the weather outside.
since awakening it has lightened outside
from black to grey.
the hissing computer is silenced
the hissing in the mind goes on.
awaken
Christmas Day, the twenty fifth.
Presents last night, the German way,
Nothing to do on Christmas Day,
except to clear the wrapping paper away.
A steady hiss on the right,
the eye has cleared again from yesterdays infection,
the clocks keep on ticking,
the son is happy, an old server from work, something to configure.
A hiss, and the eyes are both heavy, tired.
Christmas day, '16.
awake to the alarm sound of the wife`s clock. She turns it off and continues to sleep.
Go to the bathroom, have a shower, awaken.
It is about seven thirty, it is Christmas eve and it is really depressing.
In the kitchen there is a strange light, go in there and see that it is from the refrigerator. The cat has finally succeeded in opening the door to what it probably sees as the Holy Grail for soulless cats.
She has demolished two packages of sausages, biting through the plastic cover.
Clean up the mess, put away the tainted food.
Go to the living room, turn on the computer
Check the news, see if the american canary has been twittering lately.
Like a miners canary. As long as it twitters everything is in order.
No news.
It is dark, but as time goes on the sound of traffic increases, cars moving past outside.
The son is up, the lights go on in the room.
Turn them off again.
The dark is relaxing, the steady ticking of the clock
A bit too fast.
Panic attack whilst awakening, no real reason. Fear of what? There is nothing. It is no later, no earlier, no different, no hotter, no colder than the day before.
Still-panic. 'A fear of being late. It is too early.
In reality
The school concert last night, two glasses of beer afterwards. A nice evening.
After washing, leave the house, leave the attentive cat. The street paving is wet and slippery.. A young couple singing it's
way home, the party did not end early for them...
The young man apologises. What for? Oh-so maybe they were not quite on key. Still, singing at five thirty in the morning.
There is a small gathering at the bus stop. Two woman 0ne quite young, one older, a man and young boy. All with baggage, suitcases. The whole group warders off into town, through the main gate, the man with the boy, the women together, one carrying the suitcase on a handle, the other dragging a trolley suitcase. They are in no hurry.
Teachemarm arrives at the bus stop., neatly dressed.
As always. The bus rounds the herd in the distance, and approaches slowly. There is a small garden tractor with a hopper full of salt behind the driver spreading salt on all u, the pavements. An orange warning light on the roof, the busy truck runs over all of the paths like some sort of insect.
There is a crowd at the railway station too, but service is fast. The bald leaded man and the one called at ice, who always says "Alice".
That's all.
Hedgehog smiles, good morning. He is at the table under the television, the television showing films of aircraft indents again. The news ticker reports on an operation by the police which apparently prevented a second Christmas market atrocity:
* small group of federal police board the train, all in their dark blue uniforms, all with serious expressions. There seems to be more police around than usual.
The train arrives at Freising, change for the s-Bahn. The local train. There is an unpleasant smell of unwashed clothing in the forward part at the carnage, it is hard to tell just what is the source. Strangely pungent, and really unpleasant
The small train moves along, stopping at every station. There are only two stops, one at Pulling and one at Neufahm. And apart form a young woman chattering somewhere up the carriage, there is complete silence. Noises from the train, and then announcements ober de loudspeakers.
"Next stop Neufahm, change here for Munich Airport, please exit on the left"
today, a day for the car.
get up later, it is already half past five in the morning.
Wash and brush the teeth, pet the cat, she is in a playful mood.
It is very cold now, even though it is hardly freezing.
It feels cold, the air is frigid, the fog in front of the face freezes.
frrrrr.
walk around the block, find the car, neatly parked between two others.
and readjust the seat and start the engine.
adjust the mirror and turn on the radio.
drive down the alleys, take a short cut through the residents-only street.
Pass the old prison, leave the town behind, motor along behind a car with czech plates.
The cars heating is now too hot.
adjust that, and the car drifts to the left.
swerve back again.
Good Morning
night of bad sheep and-lying awake in bed and-listen to the whistle noise. The hiss is a whistle today, listen, get up
Confront the puffed face in the 'mirror, unshaven. Like the face of someone who has been at a party all night. This is not fair, a party would have been nicer.
A shave, n shower a drink of water, things-improve. Pet the cat, the big fat cat is lively today.
Brush the hair, in the hall mirror the face looks better, shaved and so forth; forth into the early morning. Yellow plastic bags filled with rubbish line the exit to the house, they are to be collected later on in the day.
A car with a noisy exhaust speeds up the alley, the driver having decided to take an illegal short cut through the pedestrian area.
'And then another, in the opposite direction..
The usual three people at the bus stop, everything much the same. A man approaches Dolores, speaking Turkish. They both converse.
There are many people at the railway station dressed in workers clothes, some clothing soiled, some fresh and new.
Take a coffee, order a coffee, large and black. There is a lot of activity in the cafe, and the television is showing films about the Berlin atrocity. Nothing new, no further news, other than that the Islamic Slate has claimed. responsibility. Christmas markets, gatherings => everybody knew that these people were aiming for the so called soft targets. Everyone knew, but that will not take the horror of such a thing actually happening.
The Train is on Time, moving slowly along the platform, to couple with the waiting vehicle. Then the doors open, are people got on board, the same as every day. Like a clockwork organism.
A man opposite in a white shirt and a grey jacket. sitting, sleeping, bald crown, grey jacket. Another in roofers clothing, heavy cord and mountain boats, fleece jacket.
People get up, ready to leave as the train approaches Freising....
Awake, put away the mask after turning off the alarm.
Go for a shower, in the bathroom. It is icy cold. The small
passageway through the conservatory, it will not freeze, but it will not warm up in winter.
Find the clothing that had lain ready all night, on the wisdom
of last night, gather other items needed for the day, put on the
glasses. check the mirror, everything seems in order.
It is half past five now, time to go.. Down the stairs, in the dark,
and turn on the light at the bottom of the flight of stairs.
The grey plastic rubbish bin is outside, beside the door.
Waiting for the bin men, who will be around in an hour..
Hurry down the street, pass the pillars of metal that
show the beginning of the pedestrian zone. Grimms shop, and then the christmas tree. Pass the now-
closed discount bakery. all quiet today, there is only one
person moving on some errand, towards the far end
of town.
The bus stop, there is dolores, alone.
When the bus comes, five minutes later, the usual
people are there-the bog cotton man, the Teachermann, and
a young woman she is new to the route, maybe this is her
first time, maybe the last time.
The girl with the big eyes is serving today, and
today, have a pretzel with the coffee.
Fome-Hungry today. The television is showing pictures
of the christmas market in Berlin. Twelve people have
died-four times as many injured. A horrible business.
And then business as usual, board the train
waiting there already, and find a seat in the
carriage..
This tuesday, the first day of work after a trying long weekend.
sit with a cup and a computer
sup a drop, black brew, dark brown
Sit at the table.
The son has gone to school
The wife has gone back to bed
Just sit there, listen to the drone in the head.
Not a drone, a his.
The clock on the wall is working a way,
tic tac every second
half second pendulum
and a clock clank every thirty seconds,
a mechanical time signal, for the filial clocks.
The dishwasher is running and it is a week untill christmas.
Drink
sup
dark day, the neighbours across the street have already left the house.
"you treat all those around you like shit"
is one supposed to live with a comment like that?
or to attempt to prove that this is not so?
or to ignore it
or to be upset by it?
or just to go back to work on future mondays
and work harder.
flee
fly
flew
fum
cold day, after a long sleep, deep and black. Grey light from the window, flat dead morning light, a daybreak in which the clouds begrudge and smear every ray of light that the sun has to offer.
Get up and why? why not stay in bed in the tempting company of indolence and self pity? Tempting, those two. Deadly mortal sins, the company of which is to be enjoyed only after all has been done. Get up to do the duties, to clean the flat, tidy up the things.
On the way to the bathroom see that the cat tray is full. This is ......
Oh to hell with it all
How much of this is personal depression and how much is other persons fault and
tinnitus hiss goes to louder hiss.
The repaired clocks are still keeping time.
The big French bobbin with the curved electromagnet underneath.
repaired, polished, adjusted and running.
ninety years old clocks
taking hold again. Water from The showerhead, first too cold and then too hot
Toothbrush is getting old too. And now, and so this is a
new day, start in the dark, and it will finish in the dark
.Gather the clothing, dress. Take the bag, the mobile telephone and the glasses..
And leave for the dim alley, pass all the illuminated shops,
the Christmas trees.
See Dolores in the bus stop, from the town gate. She
and. the Teachermann are standing now, the bus must be arriving.
It is.
Join that short queue, count the money out of the
coin part at the wallet. Pay the driver, and go to the lack
of the bus. The woman putting on her makeup is there, painting her eyes. Now that the bus is standing still, this
is a thing that can be done without danger.
There is a crowd at the counter of the railway station
cafes, the service girl is working slowly and methodically.
Strange to say, she deals with all of the customers in a
short time.
The waiting room is deserted, today's documentary on
the television is about base jumpers. People in wing
suits jumping from cliffs.
Write these notes, all the white. sitting in a carriage,
listening or just hearing, the intense muttering of the man
in the next seat to the rear. He is busy, chatting up the one beside him. A steady rise and fall, a
monotone.
He quietens down after Moosburg. It is Thursday,
the fifteenth of December, ten days before christmas.
And the christmas depressions are taking hold again.
14th December, I6
Deep asleep, awaken. turn off the melody. Bathroom, Shower to awaken, move. Find the glasses, leave the house. arrive at the bus stop at the same time as the bus, there is no wait. The
others, the Teachemann and Dolores are on board. Pay the
driver.
There is a young woman doing her makeup in the back.
She finishes her hair, a neat knot on the top of her head,
and checks the result in the reflection in the windows.
There is a young man watching her, gawping in
amazement, mouth open...
At the station a large coffee, a stamp in the
discount ticket, some time now untill the next free cup of
coffee. The television is showing documentaries of
aircraft combat from the second world war, weapons of mass slaughter reduced to items of technical
interest. By time.
None of the other regular customers are in the
waiting room today. There are a couple of strangers,
that is all.
Now the train moves slowly into the platform the
passengers are to be seen inside, many are sleeping.
One man is preparing an office party, he has
put small chocolate 'Santa figures on every
place around the table. He is waiting, a big grin
on his face, waiting for his friends to arrive for the
daily conversation on the way to work.
The train journey is uneventful today. There is
time to think of the people fleeing from eastern
Aleppo, the pictures from the six o'clock news on
the waiting room television. Fleeing the city,
running from their homes →
A world run by madmen, a world full of
weapons.
The train is silent, rolling wheels rumbling on the
tracks.
It will arrive in Freising shortly ->
and that is the same procedure as on every
working day
That 's it. I.
Tuesday 13 December.
Leave the house, all the morning washing done, fresh clothes
for work, the cat petted. This is turning into a furry monstrous large cat.
No harm.
Leave the house for the cold street, the cobbles appear black
and greasy with the damp and the hard dim light from the
street lanterns. There is a white fur in the window of one
of the small shops on the street. A furniture shop, people
who upholster old chairs.
The bus stop, there is the bag cotton man, the teachermann with his wilted knittedcap, and dolores. All three waiting for
the bus.. good morning Dolores, of the leopardskin print bag. Yellow and black. Spots. Warning colours.
in front of the station, the friendly man with the hair tied
back in a pigtail, smoking his cigarette standing inside the yellow rectangle painted upon the pavement. All smoker must stand inside this yellow squire. This is
like a pillory, people placed there for others to discriminate...
A very large truck has backed up to the railway station's
main entrance, unloading the stock for the newspaper store.
.
The man with the shaven head comes out. Large
coffee, a stamp on the discount ticket. A strong scent of waiting enmities from further down the counter, they cast angry glances over, but.
what harm? Last came first served, strange fairness.
The television has it's sound on
today, it is showing a documentary on Mexican prisons. Drink the coffee, write these notes. The television distracts.
A man at the counter upsets his coffee, spills it all
over the floor. wasted. He asks for a cloth to wipe
the mess up with, and is given a roll of absorbent
paper from the kitchen. The man bends over and
his trousers slip off his hips. Not a pleasant
sight. Asshole. A man, careless of clothing, slurred of
speech, lacking in coordination. It is early in the morning, a horrible start.
The news following the documentary show pictures of
turkish political repression, and german communal
officials discussing the plans for the securing at the
New years celebrations.
New year is only about three weeks away now,
The train is just coming into the platform, it is on
time. Take a free seat, and then listen to announcement informing that, due to a mishap down the line, a broken down
train, a non functional lebd crossing...
The train moves out after fourteen minutes delay.
These are fourteen minutes that will be hard to catch up
on, no, impossible. Apologies transmitted over the loudspeakers do not help at all.
It is dark, the train is late, and the people boarding the train in Moosbarg are short tempered.
After the halt in Moostarg, the train speeds on.
Impossible!
Zero day. Awaken with the nose blocked.
At six thirty seven. Cannot sleep. Get up.
Bathroom. Let all the night to pour away.
Move to the bedroom. Find that clothing.
Now in the clothing, move to the kitchen.
Pour brown Italian beans into the grinder.
Press that button, cause that loud noise.
Receptacle filled, freshly ground coffee
Fetch the computer, start this blog block.
The son wakes up, a schoolday monday.
Coffee machine burbles, son at brakfast.
Zero day, work free Monday, housework.
home, so tired sore of the unslept night.
Breathing and no rest. Now it's nine a.m.
blue yesterday, the same grey light today, fury.
Wish to move, but why bother - why- where to, what for.
The son puts a cake for breakfast on the table, and bursts into tears at the sight of the non uniform cups on the table.
The wife jeers him.
What on earth would a person get up for to be faced with this?
staying in bed would have been worse.
Help the son to clear up his mess in his room,
his fury goes back bit by bit,
the floorboards are visible now, the one table's surface is free.
He becomes more and more contented as things thought lost
-turn up
Sunday morning
Need to move the car away from the private parking spot
only permitted on weekends.
how much of this chaos belongs to me, how much to others?
His friend comes early, they have work to do for school
tomorrow.
Grey light from a non event sky, flat monochromatic no colour.
Brighter and softer near the window, dim and directional at the opposite side of the room.
It is relaxiing to know that there is no-where to go to, other than the appointment at the barber's place at twelve. Meli will cut the grey hair, growing out disproportionately above the ears.
But that is in the future
First of all get up
go to the bathroom
go to the bathroom, shower, shave the stubble off from the face.
Weak hair growth, as always, as always has been and always will be.
blue green shaving gel, rub it till it froths.
rub it onto the face, and apply the razor.
The orchid is still alive, it will need caring for
Back to the bedroom, clothing for the day.
The grey light has turned a brighter grey now.
The son is up, he is at his computers, they are all humming
What would he do if there were no electricity? No net?
He will never have a memory of a time before the internet.
A recent development in everybody's life.
Make up the morning coffee, unscrew the lid from the coffee maker, press the button on the grinder.
Italiean roast beans, the cheapest variety
And sit at the living room window,
grey light from the windows at the opposite side of the house, the street side.
Coffee in a blue cup
White inside baby blue outside.
And the cat is at the window listening to the bells.
The shower head is blocked with time, no, with lime, the spray reduced to a trickle. Lime in the water, ruining all the fittings with time.
gather the clothing, put it on. The cat is silent today, and the light in the neighbours window is on, like every day. He is awake before five, an early riser.
Leave the house, go down the street. The main street has had salt spread on it, they are expecting frost and snow. 'At the bus stop Teachermann is standing around, waiting. There is a general tension in the air. Why? is it because of Christmas? All the lights over the street in the shopping part of the town, an atmosphere of change..
There is a glow in the sky to the east, the sky is clear. Is that the dawn at five thirty this morning? It is too early, it seems too early:
The bus, uneventful. At the railway station, see that the pigtailed smoker is back at his position in the smokers square,
good Morning.
The cafe, a hustle. The girl is very friendly, all smiles. Take the coffee over to the self service table to collect a plastic lid for the paper cup. The lids are under syrup dispensers, and one of these dispensers has dripped over the stack of plastic lids. Remove the first two lids and take one afresh, dean, we and put it onto the coffee cup. Some syrup has got onto the fingers, wipe them on a napkin.
Hedgehog is under the television, the screen has a documentary on c17a transport aircraft showing.
A drip of syrup has got onto the plastic lid of the coffee mug. There is a sweet taste, the sugary syrup is strong.
Think of yesterday in the canteen, and the Portuguese woman there.' Obrigado, the answer de nada like a shot. And sudden laughter, the language learnt a bit from the theory of computers and mobile telephones actually works in real life.
Meanwhile, the train boarded in Landshut has passed Mooshurg and is now slowing again as it approaches Freisirg.
There is now a young woman sitting opposite,
=> earphones (white), Handbag (black) and winter jacket (far trimmed, black). She has fair hair, and is trying to sleep, leaning against the window frame of the railway carriage. She is listening to music from her mobile.
and the people shuffle down the passageway between the seats, ready to hurry off the train, all as quickly as possible.
8.12.16
Turn of the mobile, take off the mask. Wait. wait until the
bathroom is free. The cat is up too. Lively, hitting its head
against legs, purring loudly too as its back and its head are scratched. Good morning, brush the teeth, wash the face.
And wait in the hall, five minutes. check the mail from the mobile 'phone. Nothing there, other than work.
It is later than usual. Down the stairs, out into the alley.
Pass the gallery next door, the second hand clothes shop opposite and walk fast around the corner and circle the church. There is a
christmas tree set up on the corner of the street with large
red glass globes attached.
Decoration. The streets are spanned by strings of tiny white LED lights, arranged in star shapes,
or hanging down like the frozen frosted tendrils of some strange vegetation.
It is cold and frosty, two weeks before christmas.
Teachermam walks ahead, and passes the town gate.
The bog cotton man is at the bus stop, waiting...
The old woman with her yellow and black leopard
-shin headscarf is at the stop as well. Waiting..
Punctually, the bus arrives-First it is to be seen in The
distance, curving into the long straight road from the
old gaol, then getting larger as it slowly approaches.
Be the last on board, the last to pay the fare for the short trip
to the railway station.
The short haired big man in the railway cafe is
placing buttered rolls with salami and sour gherkins
in the display, all neadtly beside each other. He is
working steadily. The young woman in serving the newly
arrived customers, dealing' m mugs of coffee, sandwiches,
cigarettes, bottled beer, whatever people want in the early
morning.
Write these notes, standing in the waiting room >
Ten minutes wait, and then the train is five minutes late.
Freeze on the platform for just those five minutes, wait.
And then, the train is in.
There are another two weeks untill the non holiday
of christwas takes place.
Both Christmas eve and christmas day are on
a weekend This year, there are no days off.
except for boxing day.
get up, misery. But the shower is good, a luxury. After having dressed for the day, sit in the hallway. Wait for the time to elapse, before leaving the house for the snow dusted alley. Maybe it is just frost, the water in the atmosphere frozen as the air cools. It is white and slippery. There are figures in dark coats walking along the houses. Mayhe they are policemen on the way to work, early shift.
An orange track with a snow pushing shield in front. Snow must have been forecast, so there they are on duty, earning their overtime. There are six people at the bus stop. Dolores is there, good morning.
When the bus arrives, board last. Pay the fare, findaseat. There are people standing around in the aisles, swinging their rucksacks. What on earth are they all transporting? All those large rucksacks.
The railway station is quiet today, the service girl in the cafe is chatting with a customer. she is a girl of Balkan origin, going by her dialect. She stamps the discount card, there will be free coffee tomorrow. That is these ten percent.
Good morning hedgehog. The sound is on on that television set, showing documentary films on animal behaviour. 'On aggression, self defense and so forth. A dreary film showing excerpts from the whole world. Indian monkeys, American Buffaloes, and something African in between. All in the space of ten minutes.
Today is dreary, awful christmas dreariness. The railway platform with the train moving in at walking pace, dreary. Awful. People walking along beside the moving train, 'trying to make sure that they will be at a door when the train finally stops.
Regular as clockwork.
The train leaves, and this notebook is on a wood print Formica table top, a yellow cup of coffee with blue writing and a green lid...
A man opposite reading a book with his rucksack on the seat beside him. The rucksack has the word' NITRO' embroidered on one of' it's straps.
And further down the carriage there is a small office party, all drinking coffee and eating Christmas cookies.
Pass the small town of Moosbarg, more passengers board there.
The next stop will he Freis ivy, a a small dormer town.
Dec 6, two thousand and sixteen.
Sleep was deep, and the awakening was rude. That is all, gathering the clothes for the day, ret the art, who rolls over onto her back.
Take the little camera today,
It is complicated, it will be necessary to get used to it.
It is cold in the street, there is a large grey household rubbish container on the street. It is inn day today...
Walk through the town, see Dolores heading towards the bus stop. Say good morning at the bus stop, it is bitterly cold today. So cold that it is uncomfortable to stand still. The cold is felt as cold, regardless as to what a thermometer reading night show. There is white footing everywhere. Emoitofrio.
There seem to be fewer people at the railway station
than usual, say good morning to the service person in the cafe.
The man in the pale blue overall is at his usual place, with him good morning Too. His hair around his chubby face used to be short and spiky, it is longer and softer today. But the nickname' Hedgehog' may stick.
This is gust another workday, the first this week...
The man in the-seat opposite reeks of beer, he is sleeping. He belches once. He smells of cigarette smoke too.
the new mask is blowing fresh air. Why did the old one not do this.
No idea.
But at least sleep is deeper now, a felt space between going to bed and waking, no gasping awake in the middle of the night with inability to go back to sleep again.
Grey damp clouds visible outside the window, the four panes making a cross, actually eight panes glazing a double window, two placed behind each other.
It is sunday
It is quiet outside,
there is nothing to suffer for, really.
The son is up early, he has things planned for his computer.
Barely awake a horizontal motion to the machine.
A sense of the orderly lacking entirely.
ARGHHH
oh well.
It could be worse
there is room for improvement.
Get the computer
write these notes.
See that the clock in the hallway, attended to only yesterday, has stopped again.
Like people, old clocks need constant attention.
A short visit to a specialist will not cure them.
The other clock is going to fast.
Attend to both,
there may be a problem with the hands of the clock jamming against the case.
Five in the morning, get up and put on clothes. The sitting room is big and silent but for the tickingof the clock on the wall. An old, electrically driven master clock from France is on the short piece of wall between the kitchen door and the door to the hallway. It ticks quietly to itself, just enough energy being used to turn the second hand, the minute hand and the hour hand, the brass plate with all the holes in it that turns once every twenty four hours. The clock used to be a time serve in some french firm, and now it is working in a German town. The clock must be around seventy years old now.
The battery on the computer does not have enough charge to let the machine run, get the power cord.
It is an ugly morning, it is the weekend again.
The family is sleeping, the cat looks up from the couch, lazy yawn, closes it's eyes again.
Everything is asleep.
But for the man at the laptop, and some early delivery vehicle out in the streets, rumbling on the cobblestones, making it's deliveries to the shops or the cafe's on the main streets.
It is hard to sleep now, the depressive feelings are getting stronger all the time, it is hard to sleep and hard to stay awake all at the same time. Strange.
They are spreading salt on the road. It must have frozen during the night, or else they are expecting snow. The orange beacon lights of a municipal truck pass by the window.
look at the time on the telephone beside the bed. Ten minutes more. At five, a melody, get up, shower, collect fresh underwear, socks. Tired. Comb the man in the mirror.
On the way out of the house, remove the advertising material from the letterbox. Advertising for cheaply packed industrial food, cheaply made, cheap, cheap.cheap.
Need to oil the hinge on the front door too sometime.
Salt and sugar and spices, industrially raised livestock. Spices made in China, petrochemical by-products.
Walk down the streets, past the memorial stones in the pavement.
Under the town gate greet the woman from the discount bakery. A short exchange, it is Friday, the last day of the week. The end of a week of chaos.
At work, at home.
Dolores is making her way to the bus stop. Pass her in silence. Her voice comes," Good morning': Turn, and return the greeting.
She is laughing today, an old woman on her way to work. Or from work. Whatever.
The bus-the' rasta girl in the bus-, her long blond matted hair. Who knows what she does or where she works
- at this hour in the morning. She gets off at the station, goes ahead, takes another route through the fields of parked bicycles. Say good morning to the pigtailed smoker, at his place, by the ashtray in front of the railway station.
Meet up with the rasta girl as she enters the station, let her go ahead. She stands at the counters, a small package of roll-up tobacco and a blue plastic lighter, a cup of coffee and a roll. A gentle, cultured, very young voice.
Take the paper cup of coffee to the waiting room, there is Hedgehog.
"goo Meng'-that's slurred dialect for" Guten Morgen", That is "good Morning" to you, readers.
The Television is showing reality documentaries about pilot suicides, murderers.
a theme to fascinate many.
- start these notes, sip coffee.
On the arrival in Freising the mug is empty. and the page is full
Fast asleep all night, cannot get out of bed. "Yes, you can't". All right, switch off the noisy mobile, turn off the compressor, remove the breathing mask. It is too late to shower, a quick wash and a brush at the teeth will have to do:
"Close the door to the flat, down the stairs and stumble out At the street. ' The icy air on the face awakens, it is cold.
Say hello and good morning to the people at the bus stop. Dolores, the white haired bog cotton- like man. Teachermann arrives later. And the bus is on time. It is full of people today, men and women. Public transport appears to be enjoying a popular phase, if this trend continues one might imagine a situation where there is standing room only in the bus.
Get out at the station, walk around the other bus, just arrived, walk between the many parked bicycles, as many as always. Shuffle through the dead dried leaves on the ground, the last of their kind this year. crunch crunch!
Coffee at the counter in Yorma's cafe. A stamp-to the card, return of change, thirty seconds for a remarkably full cup.
good value today.
The man nicknamed" Hedgehog" has his skullcap on. He is listening politely to his intent-talking companion... Then:
They both go.
On television, there is a reality show reporting on the possibility of alien invasions to the planet. There are critical tones, unpleasant insinuations that governments are unprepared for this eventuality. This is strange, this is as if governments had nothing to do but the invention of problems that need to be catered for.
On board the train, the train already arrived at platform number six, find a free table, put the coffee down,
- take off the scarf.
Sit.
Continue this scribble, these notes begun in the cafe. Drink, sup coffee through the plastic lid of the blue decorated, yellow-bodied paper cup.
Gundlkofen hisses outside, there is a view of a house, a street and a lantern.
Almost a Christmas card. Almost an impressionistic painting.
Night of strange dreams, awaken to the quiet hissing from the mask over the nose. Listen, think. And sleep again. The seaside melody from the small mobile 'phone, awaken again, turn off the sound. Remember the dream again, the nightmare. It is still present. Go to the bathroom, shower and wash the teeth. No-brush the teeth. There is no need to shave today.
go down the stairs. The lower half is not dean, that is a job for the next weekend. There will be no time before then. It is yellow bag day today, all of the houses in the street have these bags in front of their doors; Return to the house, go to the yard to collect the other bags. It is too dark, there is no time..
The alley is grey and unwelcoming today, it is a black morning. An orange pickup passes by with a roar from its exhaust. It is a municipal vehicle, street cleaners
on their way to a street that they have to clean.
Walk through the town, there are people wrapped in winter clothing, so highly padded against the cold. At the bus stop, there is the bog cotton man and Dolores. 'All told, all cold.
The bus driver today is a woman wearing a Turkish head scarf, a cheerful woman. She has problems with the machine for dispensing the small change, it is jammed up.But after a few careful manipulations it works again. The bus has a bellows in the middle, at the joint between the front. and the rear halves at the bus...
The young girl with the Rastafarian hair is on the bus, she is wearing the same uncleaned boots as she was some weeks ago.
Later, in the cafe, after having left the lass and crossed the station forecourt, see that she has pale blue leaguer on her finger nails, applied with care and precision. The shoes, i.e. boots, must be part of the outfit, or the look. ft black wool coat, mittens with no fingers. Unusual.
One large coffee, paper cup, and a small round high table. Look at the television, news of Loch Ness is being shown Also, a tragedy in south America, a complete football team lost in an air crash.
Hedgehog and friend chatting at the table opposite, the small dark haired man-still talking nineteen to the dozen.
Seven more-than he should.
and the train is in, it is time to leave again.
Platform six, the train is in already, and with Moosburg past and the Freising stop imminent, stop writing these notes.
The temperature in Freising is well below freezing point.
The seaside melody and the neighbour's window across the tiny yard. He is a potter, a ceramicist. He is up very early every day, turns his light on. Illuminates his window, with the four panes and the blind.
The mask in it's place on the tablee, get up, go to the bathroom.
The cat is outside on the chair, it awakens as the light goes on, yawns and purrs. Put it on the head, stroke it behind its ears.
In the bathroom, a short shower. The dessictor is. still working, it has dried the room. It is not good. for the orchid, the plant loves the damp air.
Showered, return to the bedroom, a brown- shirt, not the hooded pullover. Too informal, even in informal Germany.
Wear a brown shirt today.
The cat has changed its location from the hallway to the bedroom. And the glasses are on the window ledge, where they should not be.
Look at the mirror, check the appearance. Old and scrawny. but that is the way after this mass of sentient material has used this tiny part of the planets mass for more than half a century now. Leave the house, through the black streets, basalt cobbles.
There is a maroon Volkswagen van taking an legal short cut through the pedestrian zone.
- On the way through the town gate the wobbly cyclist approaches.This is an old person, barely moving at walking pace. Mayhe seventy, maybe eighty. Maybe female, maybe male, hard to tell, the person is so thickly clothed.
In the distance, there is the bog cotton man standing at the bus stop, blowing clouds of smoke into The cold air. Maybe this is his first cigarette today, who knows. Dolores is in the bus shelter, in all her leopard skin print finery, bag and headscarf. And teachemann arrives too, neatly dressed, with a camera bag over his shoulder with 'Nikon' written on it. Going by the size at the item, it is a small camera.
The bus is crowded, there is one last free seat. There are many people about today, the station is full as well. The telecommunications blackout of the last weekend has made the news on the wall television in the cafe. All those teenagers without Internet! What a shock!
Drink the coffee, watch hedgehog and his friend.
Chatting
late late late night last night.
Watching films on the television, alone.
A string of serialised stories.
For four hours.
Wake late, sleep through the sons preparations for and departure to school.
It is Monday, the regular day off on the forty hour four day week.
A new invention, a new work model, which can be ended at any time.
Now it is eleven, the day half done,
And that is all
The day is hard to use, there are no friends in this town,
just strange people working away.
It seems to be all about power and influence.
What human relationships are really understood.
A constant background his, this may just be a message,
A message of insistance and importance which
is just not understood.
Like the alarm call for an unkown peril.
a steadily growing grey dawn lights the glass between the wooden frames of the window. Dawn again, Sunday dawn, there is no need to get up early, get up, anyway
it is not really early, it is half past seven, the cat is up and about.
Go to the bathroom.
That will be the first job later today, to put up a new washing line in the attic for all the washing done yesterday. Twenty metre long lines, and the attic is seventeen long.
All good.
put on the clothes, and see that the son is already up, watching television, some stories of restaurant rennovation.
Good Morning.
Critiscise the homework pages that lie all over the floor. A light scattering of A4 pages, windfall from the homework done before the show on television started.
Make coffee in the kitchen, after clearing the cooker of yesterday's utensils.
And then , to the bathroom again. On the return, the coffee is finished.
Now hurry a bit,a slice of bread, a large cup.
That is it.
And when the cook show has finished, the son gets back to his Latin.
Early roman history.
Politics have not changed much, despite democracy.
And the day is grey, the right hand side of the head hisses.
Seven in the morning, take off the breathing mask, a new one.
Has it helped? There is no memory of sleep, so who knows.
The bathroom, the clothes, the cat.
the kitchen is untidy again, a mess of things just put down and left where used.
A disaster to wake up to
Saturday.
avoid stress, avoid bad humours, avoid rage.
The son is up and about, Working at the computer.
And later he says that he will have a concert with the school choir.
A Christmas concert.
Find the coffee machine standing behind the plastic bottle of coke
Empty, the machine empty too.
Unscrew the top part, empty the grounds from the little metal sieve.
Clear away the store of packed vegetables just deposited in front of the coffee grinder.
Press the button
loud grinding noise.
Refill
Button again
Grinding noise.
Oh, fill the machine, turn on the gas,
butter some bread,
just leave the mess
This was nothing to come home to, It was there last night, but the tiredness was just too great.
Living in other people`s mess.
Family disorder
'A transition from sleeping to waking, from dreaming to think Every morning, get up, hurry, prepare for the day, wash, shave before showering so that the shaving cream will just wash off..
Put on all the clothes left out last night. And that is that.. That is all.
It is another dry, cold day. The slow nation cyclist is on theater street again. Very slowly wobbling over the cobbles. There are a few other people walking, more asleep than awake.
The town has hung out it's Christmas lights. Strings of tiny white lights over the streets. Christmas cheer, all the shop windows decorated. A festival for consumers, there is no sense of anything else. Christmas time. A festival for the rich, and for the poor. Any others just go to work as always, take advantage of the holidays, or goats on a tourney, or go on a journey, a holiday trip, to somewhere.
Teacherman-arrives at the bus stop. He says hello, and the bus arrives. The bus is full today, there are more people working, more people going to work early.
At the station, the smoker is solitary in the square marked on the pavement, marked around a ground-bolted silver stand with an ash tray on top. He is standing at the very edge of the square, on the yellow line. A small protest. -
good Morning.
The cafe is full of people standing at the counter. They all seem in good humour. The-girl behind the counter, no, the young woman behind the counter looks up, recognises, and says 'gross Kaffei.
ok
For all of the Christmas Activity, the train is empty, and quiet. There are people, young men, at the nest tah talking loudly and continuously. Because the Train is so empty, it is possible to find another seat, and to continue writing these notes in peace and quiet.
The train is slow today, for some reason it needs to stop and wait in places where it normally does not do that.
But otherwise, all is quiet, only the steady hiss over the right ear, the unbeatable enmity, makes it's hiss. It is quieter today, it was loud last night.
24. November 2016
Uncertain dreams, dreams of strange circumstances,
nightmares. Brought to a sudden end by the sound from
the flat round cornered mobile telephone.
The warm water in the shower awakens, five minutes,
shampoo the hair, wash the body, Five miniminutes.
Return
to the bedroom, make the bed, find fresh underwear.
Dressed, brown shoes, ready to go in ten minutes.
The cat is on the bed, relaxed and yawning, stretching,
Down to the street, all bare and cold. It is now
near the end of November, it is five in the morning,
it is cold. It is dark.
There is a song.. But that is long gone. And it's
writer died this month.
In the main street the security people are on
patrol, driving their cars up and down the street,
into the side streets. They never leave their cars,
two security man cars are stopped side by side on the main street,
their drivers talking to each other from their seats.
from a distance it looks as if the cars themselves are
talking.
: There is nobody at the bus stop, then Teachermann approaches out of the distance, simultaneously the bus, and
things take their course. Pay the fare.
The bus is quite full today. That is good, it is not
quite as depressing as an other days.
At the station thread a way throught he masses of parked bicycles, leaving the smokedrs square on the left, end up the stairs into the railway station
hallway. It is loud there, people conversing noisily, the benches on the left are all occupied. The cafe us in the right, past that bank telling
machine. Stand at the glass counter untill the big-eyed girl looks up, inquiringly. Order the "großer Kaffee", and wait, and give the discount card for
stamping.
And wait until the coffee has finished dribbling
out of the big red machine. The girl hands over the
coffee, that is the end of that transaction. Pick
up a plastic lid from a small piece of furniture
at the door, a piece of furniture holding the plastic lids in two sizes, and also dispensers of the various juices and syrups for flavouring the coffee.
%
and then take a space opposite to Hedgehog in
the cafe waiting room, he is being talked to by a short, dark haired
man, The man is angry, every second word in his tirade is "scheisse".
Excremental
punctuation.
AT six, leave for platform six, wait for the Train.
