Tag: work

Sunday Music

Late again, sorry. Over the weekend I fell in a vegetative state of consciousness, or un-consciousness if you prefer. I felt no inclination to communicate, to read or talk, not even music. I slept a lot, lay around and sometimes looked out of the window enjoying the lightning, the thunder, and most of all, the rush of strong rain that blanked out all other unnatural sounds. For a few moments there was even silence – silence !
Perhaps it was an uncontrolled, sub-conscious preparing for that what was to come, the start of work again. Monday morning I got up, put the working gear on and there I was again. But I was not steeled enough for the raw onslaught of sheer dumbness I encountered when my convalesced co-driver entered the cabin, sparkling from racist bigotry, half “understood” news & bloated egoism, and started the malice litany of her mishaps (of course all caused by other, jealous people), things that are wrong (basically everything), and disgusting details of her illness (baaarf !).
After some time I simply switched my brain off and decided that the jabber is just background noise, nothing else.
Read a book in those days without work ? ” – ? [gawping]” Heard some interesting music ? “Volxmusik.” – Of the humpta genre, no doubt. Did something interesting ? “Nöö, kein’ Bock …” In the end she yelled at the neighbourhood kids, pestered family members & took offense. This person is brain-dead.
And (of course ?) “interested” in soccer. And not in the game as a game, but only when “we” do play. “‘We’ ?” “Doitschland !” Not homo ludens (Ger., Eng.) but pure nationalism.
So she brought a package of tinnef (best translated as rubbish trash) containing a plastic flag of Doitschland, to clip into the car window, and two guirlandes, perhaps to strangle someone with. I stood in awe when she clipped that crap into the upper edge of her window, which in turn can not be opened anymore, because the holy flag would then fall off. This is pure humiliation. It’s the epitome of Proll, I am not sure how to translate this. Accidentally the shit fell off when I had to evade being rammed by a bus and hence had to swerve into the greenery, a compassionate branch … Let’s see how much she’s ready to spent on this.
Enough of the driver’s burden.

Last evening I was looking for a Sunday Music and stumbled upon takes of a blues singer called “Jazz” GILLUM (Ger., Eng.). Nothing special, at first hear. Mr GILLUM plays harmonica and is accompanied, among others, by Lee Conley BRADLEY (know as Big Bill Broonzy (Ger., Eng.) ; he needs no victrola, March 14th 1938).
AND a very young man on the electric guitar, called BARNES : Yes – the George BARNES (Ger., Eng.), sixteen years old ; still in the cage of the traditional blues form, but ready to jump. Together they make a little bit of history.
Hope you enjoy the music played 78 years ago. And may your co-driver be a reasonable, person, or – at least – stumm.




Where one physical body is the other can not be. And if forced, both collide : bang goes the mirror.
Some of the villages I drive through every day, are pretty old, so the roads and streets tend to be narrow. Usually … this morning I entered one of these bottlenecks while another vehicle came in my direction, and both left hand mirrors came into contact.
I was really flabbergasted and looked at the thing in disbelief while I was still going ahead, I realised my slow reaction and brought the car to a standstill. Walking back the other driver came my way, we chatted a bit until I realised that he was really a bit shocked. His hands were shaking when he lid a cigarette.
We had a look at my bus, and while my co-driver was busily shouting insults and then turned towards her phone to call the headquarters, I walked with the guy to his car. It was totally unharmed : The glass not shattered, the mirror’s shell unharmed (not even a scratch !), door alright, no scratches. So we decided to swap cards, he gave me the one of his chief, the owner of the vehicle, while I gave him the one of my dispatcher. He inhaled half of his ciggie while we talked about this & that, me gently ignoring his bright red swollen right eye, thankfully my co-driver was too distant to be understood. My bus only suffered from a broken mirror shell / box. Later, while a new mirror was installed (they have them stored in bulk), I talked to my dispatcher, and that was that.
After having dented my mirror I encountered at least another three near misses this morning, when idiots decided to overtake either my vehicle or oncoming traffic against any better judgement. So I felt very happy for the new brake pads that were installed some days ago, they are run-in now, that’s for sure.
In the afternoon I lost my cool a bit when someone decided to make a full turn over all lanes in front of my bus while I was approaching at nearly one hundred kilometers an hour, then he settled into slumber mode instead of pushing that damn pedal to the metal, thus gently providing me with a chance to show my driving skills. I gushed out some colourful words about the driver’s family, sexual behaviour & general capabilities, and was promptly corrected by the young man sitting next to me with a stern “Das sagt man nicht !” / “Mind your language !” Yeah, education is great. Perhaps he learned something new.
Tomorrow again, another day on the roads of Franconia. I blame the sun, it triggers the release of hormones, and especially young males in old cars with lowered suspension and fat tyres suffer from embiggified glands. Poor sods. I do my best to keep them alive, and my kids unharmed, but in the end it’s steel, a big diesel, and a prayer.

And just because, let’s go down to the crossroads – yes, old fat white man’s music, but I like it, perhaps because I am an old fat white man, and Mr Clapton still can use his fingers.



It’s Dark

Thank GOd it’s Frayday. Just returned from my morning drive, one more turn in the early afternoon, and yahoo ! that is it ; the engine will be started on the morning of the 15th again, not one second earlier.
I do not know what made this week so exhausting – the snow ? It was not that bad, the wind was a bit scary sometimes. But the job itself is all bearable. What is not bearable at times is the foolish gibberish of some colleagues. Sometimes I wonder where these people have their brains, especially when they talk about “die” / “them”, referring to asylum seekers & refugees.
I do not like the word “Flüchtlingskrise”, perhaps best translated as “refugee crisis” – humans are no crisis.
What we see is a crisis of the European idea ; the rise of nationalism throughout Europe with a special emphasis on Eastern Europe and the post-socialist societies (where they happily chop democracy) ; a strong current of xenophobia ; partly openly racist and even neo-fascist or nationalsocialist movements in Germany and elsewhere : Only some days ago a police chief in Saxony spoke about “Pogromstimmung” in some areas there.
Some of my colleagues, the “hard-working” “salt of the earth” – I hope you get the sarcasm – have seemingly no ability (or will) to differentiate. Asked who “they” / “die”, would be it’s Auslänner, Asylande, Neecher – all the same. The sentiment is partly sheer enviousness (” ‘they’ do get everything”, “even i-phones”), or blank racism (” ‘they’ are too dumb”, ” ‘they’ just want our women”, ” ‘they’ never have learned to work”, ” ‘they’ are of no value” etc.), combined with the preference for very simple “explanations” (“Merkel ist schuld !” / “It’s all Merkel’s fault !”) and “solutions” (“Grenze zu – alle in’s Lager !” / “Borders shut, all in camps !”).
All in all it is depressing dumbness. No wonder that “AfD” and “pegida” & Co. enjoy a large clientele – the far-right “AfD” reached 12 % at the last Sonntagsfrage (“If there were elections next Sunday, which party would you vote for ?”), nationwide.
I never thought that I’d say this publicly about a conservative German chancellor, but GOd bless Angela Merkel, may she stay strong and healthy.
I only hope that the brutish simplemindedness of these zombies will not prevail.

Arg …

I just phoned a friend, we had some gossip, and he told me that he’d listen to some music via tv, because there is an 80s-special program, somewhere in between the 60+ channels he can get with his extra-wide idiot box.
This reminded me of things I heard in the radio over the last days – all those stations jingled onandon “We play the best 80s music”.
What means in the end that they get adventurous and bring some QUEEN.
It is depressing. Sometimes I feel like grandpa driving through Mississippi  listening to Grand Old Opry – the image may be wrong, but I guess you get the idea.
DO I have to listen to the same old crap over and over again, because some teenage redacteurs now imagine something like “the wild 80s” ? And if they do & fill their program slots with this stuff, it is always the same : No strange NDW, no punk – but some “Madonna” – JEsus, would someone please brush granny from the stage ? Get The Hook !
Is it a generation thing ? A lack of knowledge, just uninformed ? Bad taste ?
I do not know, I just do not want to hear the same old stuff over and over again. One of the local stations (here) now and then does a bit of different stuff and even plays something that could be called “R&R”, others can’t see beyond the status quo. Forget the Bavarian Stately stations – they are beyond description, with the notably exception of the classic station BR 4 (or Bayern Klassik as they like to call it now) ; forget the local stations – they all do this 80s-hype and are only relevant for local news.
The only one that plays different music is EGOFM – and what I hear there, sometimes does shake me a bit. I have no clue about the artists they feature, the names are unknown to me & do not speak to me, but some of the stuff is done very well : Some re-invent 60s, 70s or even 80s music. Prima facie they sound genuine, then you listen to the texts or realise something else and you understand it is different. What strikes me is how they use the old forms – and when it is good it is not imitation, but something new. But this is rare, I think.
Any way. We are doomed. We are forced to repeat. Over and over again. With minimal divergences. And every generation again and again has to discover that there is something else, whatever it may be, for them or for else, the different. A perpetual search.
But my curiosity fades, at least in the 80s-respect. What surely means the first symptom(s) of getting old.
On the other hand my curiosity does not fade, but steeply increases, regarding the next American election. President Trump seems not to be so out of reach as some months ago. And with vice-pres Palin – yeah.
Words escape me. It will be great, for sure.
If this happens, for reals, I seriously wonder if I will have to serve my country again in one way or another.
Ach was soll’s, I’m tired, I had my share of stupidity this week, and the radio was playing crappy music. In the end nothing a glass of Silvaner couldn’t solve.