Tulips

There is nothing else to do. I am still too wobbly to leave the house. It is too cold outside, there is even an official warning “vor strengem Frost”, severe frost (lower than -10°C) is expected. So I play with my camera, and photograph dead tulips.

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Personal Bla & Whine

I need to whine a bit. I am not content with meself. I do not get my stuff sorted, jobs done, I blame the heat. I am not built for heat. I can not sleep properly – of course I must have slept for some time through the night (the last nights ; the night to Frayday was particularly bad), but it feels as if I was always awake. In the morning I am angry at meself, at the warmth staying in the room, at my swollen face – it is sometimes so bad that I can hardly open an eye, especially the left one, the un-operated.
Then I fall asleep again through the morning, and all the well thought out plans of last evening, to venture out in the morning to go for errands, sit at the desk and really do something while it is still bearable, evaporate.
My friend asked me not to go out in the afternoon, but wait ’til the early evening when the sun will not torch down directly anymore, yes good advice. But where she lives shops are open until ten in the evening, when it really becomes a little cooler ; shops here close at 20:00, and it makes no real difference whether I walk the shadowless walk in 36°C or 32 °C. Using the bycicle borders on a suicide attempt.
The “jobs” are not really mind bending difficult. I need to write something – by shortening something I already have written, it’s a two hour effort -, and I need to sort stuff here, so that the ridiculously high heap of papers shrinks, and hopefully vanishes. Just take a sheet of paper in your hand, understand what it is, and either rip it & toss it into the waste paper, or file it. Or put it aside, sort through the whole heap, and then file all those similar letters, documents, stuff in one go into the correct folders – it is really not difficult ! And of course, I should – finally ! – read something I was trusted with (sorry M. I will, I will – just don’t wait for me. It took me some weeks to read through C.’s poems … which I liked very much btw.).
I just need to start. It is like that damn first sentence.
I read an article about procrastination. The quintessence was that one just needs to start somewhere – oh yeah, thank you, very helpful, as if I wouldn’t know.
Thankfully the heat thwarts any efforts of “Übersprungshandlungen” – I hope this is the right word for stuff you do when you should do other stuff. Like washing the dishes when you should sort papers. My kitchen is awfully clean right now. As is my bathroom. Clothes washed. I run out of options. (Yes, I know, the windows, thank you A.)
I just counted five heaps of stuff that need to be tackled, the most important is on my desk, the second on a chair nearby, the rest … hmpf.
A major distraction was my neighbour in the wheelchair. Since I came back last Sunday evening from Swiss he really managed to fill my time with his ongoing mobile nursing service drama. I know that hese people are mad, and would have changed the service provider months ago, I have no idea why he allows these things. He is yelled at by the boss of said service, they threaten him (“Nobody will come to help you !”) if he does not sign something that suspiciously looks like a made-up list of services they made / performed – for me this list looks like pure invention & attempted theft, it’s a real horror show !
On top of this he asked me to help him get rid of dwarves. I happily killed them with a hammer (fight Kitsch wherever you can !), and while shoveling them dirty gnomes into large blue bags I twitched a muscle in my back. What made me curse the dwarves – they got what they deserved ! – and meself for being such a stupid idiot : As if two damn disc prolapses are not enough – noh ! You must fight damn dwarves glued into ugly brown plastic containers on the ground of a disabled man’s living room in the biggest heat, and twitch a muscle because these effing dwarf dioramas are too heavy to lift : You are too dumb to find yer arse in yer trousers Mago !
But I wore my mask with pride, ha !
It may sound rather bleak what i write here, but I am not. In fact I can write, that’s something. I could not, over the last days, in fact I could do nothing, except kill dwarves. I am in the process of entkrüpfeln, and the dreaded deadline(s) do help : I will leave this place on Monday morning, and there will be no heaps left. Things will be sorted, stuff will be copied and put into envelopes, letters will be posted on Monday morning – I will leave this place in a way that requires me not to face the same damn duties again when I’ll come back. I will come back to a clean desk, yoh ! May be a long Sunday …
I feel better now. At least I accomplished to write something, even if it is self-centred whining only I throw at my venerated readers, please accept my excuses.
I want to have a cold beer now.

Sol Invictus

Baked birds fall from the sky. I mean, they could, just a little more heat, and – splat ! Nothing moves. All is silent. No man made sounds : No cars in the village street, no trains rumbling by in the distance, no aeroplanes scratching the sky, no emergency helicopters ; no one going out with the dog, or hanging around the village puddle – not even the always reliable do-it-yerself-idiot-with-the-hammer, usually a trusted source of noise, especially on Sunday afternoons or any day’s evenings – no : Nothing.
Just heat. Pan sleeps, too knackered from nymph hunting. If this is good enough for the old semi-goat, is is good enough for me.

Aside

It is really mean. There one has a large library at hand, a stone’s throw away, but one can not use it. Especially one can not use the computers in the hall that give access to the licensed magazines, like for example the New Scientist (Ger., Eng., website). I want to read this article in full. It is either something like a hoax, or all those ideas about “the mirror”, the opposite world, are not so baseless as we thought. Maybe all moves in circles, or like a spiral ; birth and death as passages, Janus-faced, bi-visaged.
But I am a scientific layman, and easily impressed.

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