mago

Waiting

I stood on the balcony and looked East. There were some remarkably strong vertical flashes. Now we do not have strong winds and rain like roughly an hour before. I opened all windows when the wind became stronger, and had all the warm & stuffy air blown out. It was a very hot day, we had them in a row, and the thunderstorm was building up since midday. But now the temperature is down, still warm, and thankfully it is not sauna-like. The birds in my vicinity are busily talking to themselves, it all is green, no more blossoms.
I wonder about the bees. Usually I had to bring out two or three bees a day. They came in through the balcony’s door, looked around and decided to leave. And of course they bumped against the window. So I either opened a part of said window and they went out, or I put a glass over them, then put a piece of paper between the glass and the window pane (and the insect, obviously), and finally released them via the balcony door.
Also the big  bumbles did not show up this year. Usually they rested on my balcony, loaded with thick yellow stuff they gathered in the blossoms. They crawled around a bit, relaxed, jumped & carried on. Not this year. No Brummel. Not a single one. (I went to the supermarket, and saw cherries sold – for a tremendous price I think, twelve Euro a kilogram : This year all blossomed too fast, too short.)
The lime trees, Linden, trees I like very much, are  blossoming. Usually such a tree would hum and buzzle from bees, bumble bees and I do not know who else would crawl around in the scented paradise. But there is nothing this year, the trees stand quiet. No real scent too.
While I wrote this the sky turned to a kind of battleship grey, thunder is quietly grumbling along, in the distance (East-East-South I’d guess, as seen from my desk through the large window) flashes are seen.
When I just went into the kitchen I needed artificial light to find them damn pills I have to use, the weather came around now. I only hope there will come some abundant rain, the thunder is a bit louder, the distance slowly fades into grey.
The rain came gently. But intensified. I hear drops falling on the window’s sill, but the rain is not blown against the panes. It rushes. Only blackbirds are still conversing, but I guess they have told each other all the gossip now. Even within the house it is quiet, no one feels the need to bore a hole, or to do something else that would indicate a living soul. Humans are a noisy bunch after all.
It were some strange days, filled with contrasts. I feel tired, and I have a lot to think through.
Love, peace, and understanding, as they said. Still counts. In the end there’s nothing left except love.
If you like, listen to some romantic guitar music, a Capricho Árabe by Francisco TÁRREGA performed by David RUSSELL, here.

Advertisements
Standard
mago

Not Tonight, Darling

It’s a beautiful evening, clear blue sky with high thin clouds, ein Wolkengespinst, not too hot, not too chilly.
And I feel old. Tired to the bone. It was the last drive of the week, even for this month, two weeks off for Pentecost, the wonderful feast of the Holy Ghost. Would be nice if he could drop by … wonder if she/he/it can manage this time, but I doubt. I guess we’ll have to soldier on. Sorry if this sounds a little hopeless, I do not want to drag you down, venerated reader, it’s just me, who feels a little worn.
I just want to sleep, undisturbed, and long enough. I want to wake up and feel relaxed and strengthened, not knackered and as exhausted as six hours before.
It is not the work, what is surely not overwhelming. I felt some anger over the last few days, on several occasions things I can not change happened to me, none of it a major disaster, each and single one something to forget, but it adds up a bit, and makes me feel irritated. And the little wheel in the head keeps on spinning, what leads to a disturbed sleep, and more irritability.
On the other hand the boys had some good time when I drove them, we were happily chatting, joking and even singing, a big difference from older times, when there was mostly silence while we drove with my first co-driver (the matriarch) on this route. Co-drivers came and went for some time, until the actual one came along. She’s accepted now, but overly protective, and comes over as a bit harsh sometimes ; but she relaxes, slowly.
I should take care of my kitchen sink, the water flows down only veryvery slowly, so there is some blockage in the tubes. But I really do not want to spent this evening crawling on all four under the sink handling some greenish fatty glob. As exciting as this may be for a non-handy-man like me with all that instant satisfying success, not tonight, darling. Also I should screw my bicycle back together after I repaired the tube of the front wheel – again, as rewarding this may be, not tonight : I just want to have a glass of wine or two, and relax & unwind.
Finally a project I can manage, after all.

Standard
mago, Persons

Dumbness at Work

Political blah ahead, just skip it if you like.

In his predictable ignorance the little fuehrer announced to “pull out of the deal”.
At first I was angry, but only for a short time ; in the end it was all too expectable. This idiot is seriously working on making the world a dangerous place.
I said it before, I just mention it again : This is no effing “deal” ! A “deal” is what you do down at the corner with Nick the Greek. We are talking about a multi-national treaty. Signed by “Europe” (France, UK, Germany), Russia and China.
What this move of the little fuehrer shows & illustrates is exactly what the German Chancellor remarked some months ago : The US are no reliable partner anymore. It makes no difference, if an American president signs or spits on a contract, it is always just “as is” and “for the time being”. A basic line, an axiom of law, is “pacta sunt servanda”, what means nothing else but you fulfill a treaty. Of course, if the basics of the treaty change, the presuppositions, things can (and should) be changed – but this is not the case here : For absolutely frivolous & indecent reasons this lousy prick kills anything that is still left of international American reliability & credibility : “Die USA sind kein verläßlicher Partner mehr.”
This puts the Iranian leadership under much more internal strain as already available, it is a gift to the falcons. It helps the warmongering of Israel’s PM, who is all too ready to send out some bombers. The risk of another war in the region called the “Middle East” is significantly increased. Only that this time it may be a big one to come that possibly may not be contained. And it is en passant an absolutely avoidable affront against all those involved, the EU, Russia, and China. Makes Amerga great again, really.
I can not get this picture out of my head from some months ago, I think it was taken in Istanbul. It showed the Iranian, of course the Turkish leader, and Mr Putin, shaking hands and enjoying each other’s company. I think they announced some economical treaty or something. There you have the regional powers, under the smiling benevolent guidance of Moscow. The US are out, and rightly so. The next we’ll see is the announcement of a Saudi-Arabian “good bomb”.
De-escalation, a policy of peace, or something similar silly humanist, looks different to me. And what caps it all : Of course the little fuehrer has nothing to offer, what would “make” a “better” “deal” : Does this brain dead worm really think someone will sit down now and negotiate a new treaty ?
Is btw anyone with two brain cells to rub against each other left in charge of USAmerican foreign politics right now ?
I doubt.
Anyway, I find consolation in the fact that finally people are investigating the little fuehrer‘s business actions from ten years ago, when he bought stuff by cash, tons of cash. It all comes down to what Bannon (does anyone remember Bannon ?!) said : “It is all about money laundering.” The little fuehrer took all that cash from the big laundering machine called Bank of Cyprus (run then and today by Deutsche Bank, headed now by this cool guy Ackermann), a relais station between those criminal (and Putin connected) families in the East where Manafort was involved and different addresses in the West : On one side you pour in worthless rubles, on the other side you have squeaky clean dollares, and the engineer makes his cut, preferably in cash, siphoning – Meyer Lansky would be proud.
Btw, it just pops up in my head : Who actually pays the little fuehrer’s lawyers ? I mean, oh so brilliant heads like the former major of NewYork do cost a little bit. Are Rudy and friends’ pockets stuffed with tax dollares ? It surely is insignificant & unimportant, it makes absolutely no difference who pays these guys. Because under the little fuehrer the state is nothing else but a self-service-outlet, and who does not cash in, is understood to be dumb : Sod on values, valuables is right ; morals is for the weak.
It is nothing else but apres nous le déluge, just without style.

Okay, this was it. Sorry for the inconvenience.

Standard
mago, Places

Gruorn

Last weekend saw me visiting Suebia & walking around the Schwäbische Alb (Ger., Eng.) It is an interesting landscape – if I would have to characterise it, words like “reluctant”, herb – what my dictionnaire translates as “austere” – “bitter-sweet” come to mind. Die Alb ist ein karges Land. And beautiful.
Basically it is a brick that stretches roughly from West towards East in the Southern part of Baden-Württemberg. Different to other regions, like e.g. the Hohenlohe (Ger.), the Alb has clear borders : There is a region before the Alb, there is the Alb itself, and there is a region after the Alb. When you look at a north-oriented map the Northern border is marked by the valley of the river Rems, the Southern border by the river Donau. Yes, this mighty European river starts as humble creek somewhere South of the Alb.
And, because it is a brick, there is a clear difference between what is down & what is up : You have to climb up to the Alb, what today means that you have to drive an Albaufstieg, a steep, winding, and sometimes a bit challenging ascent to reach the plateau. On top it is windy, obviously cooler than down below, and all the vegetation is three weeks behind :  While the apple trees have blossomed in the valleys, they stand in full bloom up there.
The winters also are a bit different, they use these markers (Ger.) besides the roads not for nothing, these sticks (snow poles) simply show where the road is under the snow drift.
The people there are proud of their Alb, and love it to bits. Others can’t be dragged by horses to live & work there, mostly verweichlichte city dwellers. (I can not translate “verweichlicht” correctly, namby-pamby perhaps ? Because it must have an ironic touch.)
Nevertheless, all those softy city dwellers, notably from the Suebian capital Stuttgart, invade the Alb on weekends, sit happily through traffic congestions eager to reach one of the many Wanderparkplätze (parking places from where a nice little ramble or hike can be started, usually in a circle of two hours or so) or scenic outposts. There they gaze in awe towards Stuttgart (Fernsehturm !) or in Southern direction towards the Alps.
(I personally do not believe in the possibility to see the Alps from there, I think it is clever marketing trick : When I looked South it was either foggy or hazy on the horizon, or the land lay in a wonderful Sonnenglast that prohibited to see further than 30 kilometers. This happened every time when I was brought to observation points looking South. Nevertheless, some happy individuals may, possibly, have seen something in the far distance that could be interpreted as a Swiss mountain, with a little good will from all involved.)
We went to Gruorn (Ger. only).
If you ever had to deal with the German military you know that they like abbreviations. So on the road sign you will find it as “Ehem. Trup.-Üb.-Pltz.”, ehemaliger Truppenübungsplatz, former military training area.
Back in the late 19th century a military training ground was created near the small town Münsingen (Ger., Eng.), there is still a place called “Altes Lager”, old barracks or camp. In the 1930s the area was significantly enlarged and the old village Gruorn was “entsiedelt”, what means that the inhabitants were re-located and the whole local district was incorporated into the training facility. After the war the French took over and used it as intended, among other things, for training of house-to-house-fighting. I am not sure when the French handed it back, but since 2006 the area is de-militarised and open for walkers and cyclists, you should better stay on the established paths.
The church of the village Gruorn is still standing and renovated, the old school house is used as a small pub, and up on the first floor you find a little exhibition about the place’s history.
This may sound pretty bleak when you read it. But it is not at all. No modern roads, no traffic, no electric poles, no fields. In the end you see a country side as it was in the 1930s or earlier. It is remarkably quiet there. Open spaces with green meadows, woods, sky.
Silence.
Apart from the sound of those mountain bikes’ tires on the paved roads, only natural sounds.
And because this year is an extra-ordinary pollen year, you see clouds ascending from the woods, where the wind shakes them trees and pollen dust disperses like smoke.
I want to go back there, and wander around.

*

Gruorn2

How it looks there

*

Gruorn3

View over the graveyard towards the school house

*

Gruorn1

Some blossoms

*

The Alb is a good place. I want to be there. Actually I already miss it.
The rest of the week was quiet, back to work, the usual. I looked into the web, read news, and tried to read your blogs, but I beg for your pardon and hope you accept my excuses, venerated readers – I did not feel up to do this. When I finally came home in the evenings I just wanted to go to bed. Another kind of silence. And asked myself what I am still doing here.  Thoughts are floating, ruminat in cerebro, “es schafft” as the Suebian says.
Sunday Music will be resumed, everything will continue, but sooner or later I hope to change some things.

Standard