Sunday Music

I drove through a winter wonderland this morning. I had seen the thick fog last night and so I went out earlier than usual because I had not covered the windscreen of the vehicle. The icy coating was pretty thick, also on the headlights, the door seals were frozen and everything cracked and squealed when I finally entered. The heating of the front screen is a real gift, after some minutes the worst was gone.
The vehicle has an additional heating, and when the temperature drops below -5° C it is necessary. The engine does not heat up enough and it doesn’t keep the heat. When winter starts for reals I will have to cover a part of the radiator, one of the oldest tricks in the sack, but still effective.
At two occasions I slammed on the brakes for testing, and we slid duly for some meters while the antilocking-system noisily hammered on the brake disks. The road was sometimes glitzy, but I could not discern whether it was ice crystals or freshly strewn salt. I anyway drove carefully and brought them all safely to their school.
Ironically I fell when I was walking back to the vehicle returning from the superette in my village. A thin layer of translucent ice, in broad daylight, no warning, sent the better part of hundred kilo of mago crashing down on the right leg. Thankfully the point of impact was five centimeters under my right knee.
It must have been a funny spectacle when I lost foot, gesticulated wildly in the futile effort to keep my balance, with the bag containing my shopping wildly swerving around. When I finally sat on the cold ground I first checked whether the glass of cherry marmalade I just had bought was still intact, thankfully it was. I think I heared a strange sound when I finally had come down, I guess it was the glass. I managed to get up without kissing the ground again and hoppled to my vehicle. Leaning through the open door over my driver’s seat I suppressed the urge to vomit, maybe I winced a bit.
After breakfast I became tired and laid down. Around noon I had to leave again and when I put on my trousers I realised that a kind of pretty large egg had grown out of my right leg just under the knee. I chose to ignore it. Later in the evening it became evident that my right leg from the knee downwards is swollen thick, the right trousers leg is definitely more stuffed than the left, yes I wear skinny jeans, na und ?! Finally Beinwell (Ger., Eng.) was applied, there is always something in the grand pharmacy we call herb garden, but now I smell funny, partly at least.
My guardian angel was either a bit hung over or just right on spot, I can not decide. Muscles and joints are all right, no bones broken ; kneeling down is no option right now, but, frankly, it never was.
This Sunday Music is a title composed by Joe ZAWINUL (Ger., Eng.) in 1966, when he was with “Cannonball” ADDERLY (Ger., Eng.), called Mercy Mercy Mercy (Ger., Eng.). This version on Youtube has the crowd’s noise a bit reduced, but I think it’s a tad too slow. Anyway, I hope You enjoy the music – and that we’ll all have an accident-free week ahead.

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Sunday Music

Dinahmow and The Mistress did it in the comments section of the last post (here), and while MsScarlet promised a whole post for it (she was tagged by Nikos), Savannah and IDV already did those posts – and gave (up to) four answers to four questions.
So we learned, thanks to IDV, that Rose lemonade exists ; Savannah likes Bourbon and whiskey (I do not understand nothing about this stuff, sorry) ; Nikos has it with meaty balls, especially from asia minor (!) ; The Mistress was everywhere except Franconia ; Dinahmow would like to sip bubbly in Brooklyn : Worth a round of cold Schampus for all !
And now some Sunday Music for your pleasure : Johnny LIEBKIND (fi., bio) sings Iltapäivää – what a nicely rolling “r” ! And in case the song sounds familiar to you, but you just can not remember the title – the name of the composer is Raymond Douglas Davies.
May the coming week be good to all.

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About Nothing

I feel strange this evening. A bit like “Out of time”, unconnected, watching Major Tom while he does his thing, but he can’t come close to me, I’m in another orbit. No, I’m not spaced out, flying high as a kite ; I just sipped a bit of my usual drug, Silvaner nectar of GOds. I am not overtired, and hence seeing little white mice playing at my feet – butzibutzi havesomecheese … just a little sideways perhaps ?
I enjoy to drive through the countryside, watch the colours change, look into farm yards and notice small things that change – I observe other people’s lives, as I always did, it is what I learned. The subject is called “history”, “Volkskunde” it once was, now they speak about “European Ethnology” or “European cultural history”, or  just some other random combination of these silly words. It is always observing, allowing curiosity to take over, asking silly questions, but mostly watching in an alert and intense way.
Living second-hand it is not, simply because all this “doing” does not replace the own life. And watching always means trying to understand what is going on, what always means reflecting on or about the own “understanding” : What do I see, and how ? What do I understand how, and why ? Is it in me, in the object, somewhere else ? What values do I follow when I evaluate something I “see” (what means “perceive” in this coherence : It was “seeing” we were told to learn & understand, the leading ability to master), what is my own, what is acquired, and, of course, – where do I stand ?
What is me ?
I think any person who seriously wants to produce something like a text, an image, a picture, an object in what respect so ever, as an artist, as a scholar, as someone faintly interested in creating something, starts sooner or later to think about her or his position in respect to the creation and the others, that is the audience, the bloody rest.
This leads to the need of self-definition.
The self-defining blogger does a “MeMe”.
Some time ago – we live in a timeless age of unlimited digital availableness (at least we are told so, but those in command ( = google, or any other digital super-national entity) can change this very easily, as The Mistress and Leni suffered from !), so it should be no problem to look back at those questionnaires  – some time ago, I say, bloggers did “MeMes”, catalogues of questions that helped to better understand each other, to make some points clear, or simply to make fun of each other, oneself, or both.
I wonder who “still” blogs, I know this question has arisen some time ago. I only can say that it is people like you – who read this – and people like me – who write this. What came after “the blog” was “fatzebuk” and “Twitter” – both became really big, and thus instruments of influence for whatever : “Social media”. Always on short notice. Un-filtered. Seemingly. Abused and manipulated faster as one thought.
And so without any long-term meaning. It is not meant to stay, it is not for reflection, it is not for a dialogue. “Twitter” was some years ago brought to my attention by Cara, who seemingly used it very early. With all due respect to all users, I never could find out why I should use this thing.
I do not do “fatzebuk” because of a statement of the head honcho, who plainly saied that “privacy” was an old-fashioned and to be abandoned concept that had no place in his new digital world. I learned from an article that fatzebuk-employees are congratulated not to their birthdays, but to the annual date when they created their account. And that they are erased, really “snuffed out”, when they leave the company : This is “damnatio memoriae” on a new level. If it is correct what I read, then this ideology is a-historical and dis-honest to the core. I do not join this cult.
And blogging is different ?
Yes it is.
First of all because of the thin veil of anonymity that is drawn all over it, it can even become a coat if you do it right, and perhaps need to. Because of the form that allows something called “thought” to enter the blab. Because of the liberty one can take in forming this blogging persona, even when one jumped right on it originally. Time – and this is the essential word here – time will tell : Fatzebuk, twitter, whatzapp – they have no idea about time, they are an unending now only. This is not remotely connected with “life”, “person”, “individual”, “feel” & “truth” – all things that need to develop and change, slowly, but steadily.

GOd, I’m brilliant.

Now let’s have a MeMe. It is called the “Game of Fours”, Κυριε Νικος tagged me. Four questions, four answers each.

1. What is your favourite food?
2. What are your favourite drinks?
3. Places you’ve been?
4. Names that you’re known by?

  1. Kloß mit Soß (How you do it ; image)
    Gemüsereis (It’s rice with vegetables. There is nothing to show, sorry. Ad garlic and pepperoni, please.)
    Rouladen (Well yeah, that’s it.)
    Pudding, self-made (Do it this way, or use Doc Oetker. Anyway, contemplate the words “rum”, “cherry”, “Rosine”, “whipped cream”.)
  2. Water (Preferably cold, no bubbles. I still remember the taste of the water in my grandfather’s house.)
    Silvaner (A world to be discovered. My stomach hates red wine nowadays.)
  3. Venedig : Pure beauty.
    Kreta : A distant memory.
    Zypern : Tremendous, especially before they built all those roads.
  4. Eh ?
    (Hey, was machen) Sie da !?
    Struppi
    Bussischnucki (vernacular)

I invite anyone to play along with the “Game of 4s”, if you like it, why not ?! Thanks to Nikos for inviting me !

Don’t step on the mice, please.

And while we’re at it : Play it loud, please. Just so, let it bleed …

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Sunday Music, Monday Edition

Bööööh … Ich moch’ needh …

The week that was, simply was. The weekend that was, was nice, spent in good compagnie, much too short. Now it’s Monday, grey, windy, much too warm for the end of November with up to 12° Celsius expected for tomorrow – and the coming days !
Ich hab’ kein’ Bock. I am tired and feel old, worn. The job is still easy enough, it is not even the getting up in the ddm (courtesy of savannah). I just want to avoid noise, hassle, interaction ; don’t care of the news, don’t want to see any more ugliness. I enjoy to drive over hills and look into the sunrise, watching fog curling over fields. The boys have to get used to classical music and my eclectic taste of music, and astoundingly they get on with this well, like all in this respect, concerning my passengers, is well. Anything else feels a bit … touchy, tacky, Idon’tknow. In broad Franconian, Ich moch’ nedh.
Here is some friendly music, from the 1972 (post Green) Fleetwood Mac (Ger., Eng.) lp Bare Trees (Eng.), take number four on side one, Sunny Side of Heaven  – I hope you enjoy the music.
Now let’s soldier on, five more weeks until holidays.

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