Saturday, December 31, 2011

Same Procedure as every Year

If counted well the  Germans today can/could watch Dinner for one (The 90th Birthday) - history here - 16 times at different times on various TV-channels, and aside from the original in various German dialects inclusive a Swiss version.
Very strange folks, the Germans.
Well, judge for yourself.

Tiny tip-off: Be absolutely determined not to laugh.


Saturday, December 24, 2011

The longer Omnium exists ...

the less worth it is.

The peace of the night.

Where there is a will ...

... there is no way.

No one will come to know why I laughed til I cried, yesterday night.

Neither there will anyone come to know why I (almost) desperately cried tonight.

[At least, not now.]

... ' cause I would not tell, which again would be another story.

Laughter and sadness: siblings they are.

Thus, to all who – despite I do find amazing that so many people in 2011 would still be conditioned to believe in what they have been told in their youth:

Don't start thinking (yourself). Just enjoy what you have been taught to think you believe: Merry whatever. 

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Nothing to share

(Even when you are longing:)
Sadness can not be shared.

You may talk about to one person, to ten, to hundreds.

Even if being empathic: No one will feel the same. None will (be able to) share your sadness.

Same goes for love, for any of your feelings. They are unique. 

You are unique.

I am unique.
Hoorah!

The peace of the night.

... 

And what is when they grow 232 kg of sweet corn to produce one litre of ethanol?

Now, that's organised stupidity / crime.

I am not willing to share.
 
Kestrel, not in need of maize/ethanol.

Friday, December 09, 2011

Aetherophonesque aquarium



Theremin

And here – in case you wish to compare – with the original:



Camille Saint-Saëns

Friday is Skyday

Well, this Friday happened to be
a Sunday in August.

Tuesday, December 06, 2011

Sunday, December 04, 2011

Natural Arts

Pedro Potato and Olivia Onion watching*
green cabbage growing.

Thursday, December 01, 2011

Nebulosity

'The markets are getting nervous.'
The markets are important?
Ha ha ha ha ... up til ... infinity ...



The photo's being taken by the astrophysicist on his recent (private) session.

Monday, November 28, 2011

Cover Story 0004 - Ch.18_a

What we talk about when we talk about love
Dreams of dreams
Confusion of the feelings

First love, [last rites]
Days of joy

Erogenous zone
Nights of love and laughter
Kama Sutra
The orgy - an idyll

Little misunderstanding of no importance

Don Juan's temptation
The Siren
An occasion of sin

Suspicion
Now it rains slaps in the face
I want to know why
A touch of chill
Rituals
Sexus
Well, as you can easily see here, I decided to change the title. August 13th, 2010 this happened. Could not explain why, but I felt not comfortable with the idea, and thus cover story 0004 after 18 chapters* got covered with a dust layer.

Perhaps it will again, and you will not come to know the end of the story. That is why I think I should give you at least a glimpse of what you might miss:




* actually 17, as yours truly scatterbrain had jumped from Chapter 4 to Chapter 6 :)

Thursday, November 24, 2011

The big black bird has come

Bye, bye, Wiggerl. Thanks for all, and: Werd' endlich glücklich!

 

Komm großer schwarzer Vogel, komm jetzt!
Schau, das Fenster ist weit offen,
schau, i hab Dir Zucker aufs Fensterbrett g'strat.
Komm großer schwarzer Vogel, komm zu mir!
Spann' Deine weiten, sanften Flügel aus
und leg s' auf meine Fieberaugen!
Bitte, hol mi weg von da!
Und dann fliegen wir auf,
mitten in'n Himmel,
in a neuche Zeit, in a neuche Welt,
und i werd' singen, i werd' lachen,
ich werd' "es gibt's net" schrei'n,
weil i werd' auf einmal kapier'n,
worum sich alles dreht.


Komm großer schwarzer Vogel, hilf mir doch!
Preß' Deinen feuchten, kalten Schnabel
auf meine wunde, auf meine heiße Stirn!
Komm großer schwarzer Vogel,
jetzt wär's grad günstig!
Die anderen da im Zimmer schlafen fest
aber ganz leise san,
dann hört uns die Schwester net!

Bitte, hol mich weg von da!
Und dann fliegen wir auf,
mitten in'n Himmel,
in a neuche Zeit, in a neuche Welt,
und i werd' singen, i werd' lachen,
und i werd' "das gibt's net" schrei'n,
weil i werd' auf einmal kapier'n,
worum sich alles alles dreht.

Ja? Großer schwarzer Vogel? Endlich!
I hab' Dich gar nicht einikommen g'hört,
wie lautlos Du fliegst,
mein Gott, wie schön Du bist!
Auf geht's, großer schwarzer Vogel, auf geht's!
Bye bye, meine Lieben daham!
Du, mein Mäderl, Mama, Papa!
Bitte, vergeßt's mi net!
Auf geht's, mitten in'n Himmel,
net traurig sein, mm mm!
's ist kein Grund zum Traurigsein!
Weil i werd' singen, i werd' lachen,
i werd' "es gibt's net" schrei'n,
i werd' endlich kapier'n,
i werd' glücklich sein!

Ja, I werd' singen, und i werd' lachen,

und i werd' "Es gibt's net!" schrei'n,
i werd' endlich kapier'n,
i werd' endlich glücklich sein!

And here's a both quick and humble first attempt to translate from the Austrian. Suggestions for improvement are welcome.

Well, you will understand, anyway.


Come, big black bird, come now!
Look, the window is wide open,
look, I've spread sugar on the sill for you.
Come, big black bird, come to me!
Span your wide gentle wings,

and put them on my fevereyes!

Please, get me away from here!
And then we fly up
right into the middle of heaven,

into a new time, into a new world,
and I'll sing, I'll laugh,
I'll scream "Es gibt's net!"*
,
'cause all of a sudden I'll get
what all is about.


Come, big black bird, so help me, please!
Put your wet cold beak
on my sore, on my hot brow!
Come, big black bird,

now there's the opportunity!
The others in the room are sleeping deeply,
but let's be very quiet,
so that the nurse won't hear us.

Please, get me away from here!
And then we fly up
right into the middle of heaven,
into a new time, into a new world,
and I'll sing, I'll laugh,
and I'll scream "Es gibt's net"*,

'cause all of a sudden I'll get
what all is about.

Yes? Big black bird? At last!
I didn't hear you come in,

how soundless you fly –
my God, how beautiful you are! 

C'mon, big black bird, c'mon!
Bye bye, my dear one's at home.
You, my girl, ... Mama ... Papa.
Please, don't forget me!

C'mon, into the middle of heaven.
[Ah] Don't be sad ... mm mm [no no no];
There's no reason for sadness,

'cause I'll sing, I'll laugh,
I'll scream "Es gibt's net!",
I shall at last understand,
I'll be happy.

Yes, I'll sing, and I'll laugh,
and I'll scream "Es gibt`s net",

At last I'll understand,
At last I'll ... be happy.


* I did not come to think of a proper translation for this idiom. It's meaning is somewhere between "I don't believe it" and "My arse!"  :)

Monday, November 21, 2011

200 years later bowing with respect

“But paradise is locked and bolted...
We must make a journey around the world
to see if a door has perhaps been left open.”

Heinrich von Kleist (October 10th, 1777 – November 21st, 1811)

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Fog is back

Today we had the first fog.
Thus, although I posted it before (here & here, in case you wish to read poem and comments),
and before I am going to close down my youtube-channel,
once again:




Hermann Hesse, November 1905

Monday, November 07, 2011

Tree, truth, trullala

Alliterations, no.
Beauty: Yes.
Charming? ... More. Much more.


Wednesday, November 02, 2011

Saturday, October 22, 2011

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Nine little deaths

There is a project I am thought to have finished next Friday.

Not one line I wrote today.

End of the beforegoing.

She is 87. For the past two years I have been – as I call it – her life-whisperer.



Today I felt my magic is fading. Nine times – each time out of the blue while we were talking – sighs. Suddenly. Her eyes far far away. Her body stiffening (if that's the right word).

In the next moment my right arm around her, holding her right shoulder, the left hand taking her right: "I am here. mmmm ... I am here. Hear me, mother? I am with you. Hear me?"
After a few seconds: "Yes." – Yes? – "Yes, I hear you."



Relief. Nine times. Nine times. Nine times!

In between: Anecdotes. Many. Wisdom. Deep wisdom. Yes. Death was a topic, too. Naturally, hm? Lots of laughter. Heartily laughter. Both being aware of ... the possibilities.

But please don't immediately close my coffin ... hahaha ... I might not be dead.


Please, don't buy anything new. Take the red sweater and the green skirt. They will be easy to put on when I am not too stiff. And ...



Got me?

You ought to be glad that my knowledge of the English language is but rudimental.

Otherwise I'd perhaps/probably bore you with a wonderful story. A story that could teach you quite some tiny bits about life and death, about trust and (a kind of) love.

In lieu thereof I shall shut up.

Will I find sleep?

I hope both we will wake up in the morning.

That's life.

The peace of the night.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Saturday, October 08, 2011

Tuesday, October 04, 2011

Time to be thankful


While digging up what some Germans would call earth-apples,
not only was I murmuring one of my favourite poems,
but thinking of how painful it was to plant them,
not knowing at the time there were some litres of water bubbling in my lungs.
And although I felt this time the digging took ten times longer, I felt thankful.
A good harvest it was, much better than in 2010.

Same goes for apples, pears, walnuts,
of which some got harvested this afternoon.
Not to speak of plums, beans, onions, carrots,
Kohlrabi etc., and ... all these delicious tomatoes.


An urban dweller might, of course, not know
how fruits and vegetables do taste
that have not been spiced with insecticides and pesticides.





Pure joy

Each evening ...
a feast not only for my eyes.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

l'Homme de la Mancha

Straightforward

... slowly

Sergeant Pluck on the Theory of Atomics

"Haben Sie denn als junger Bursche nie die Atomphysik studiert?" fragte der Sergeant und betrachtete mich forschend und erstaunt.

"Nein", antwortete ich.

"Das ist eine schwerwiegende Unterlassung", sagte er. "ich werde Ihnen trotzdem eine Ahnung davon vermitteln. Alles besteht aus kleinen Partikeln seiner selbst, und diese fliegen in konzentrischen Kreisen herum und im Bogen und in Segmenten und in unzähligen geometrischen Figuren, die so zahlreich sind, daß man sie gar nicht kollektiv erwähnen kann, und diese stehen nie still oder ruhen sich mal aus, nein, sie trudeln vor sich hin und flitzen mal hier-, mal dahin und gleich wieder zurück, immer auf Achse. Diese kleinwinzigen Herrschaften nennt man Atome. Können Sie mir scharfsinnig folgen?"

"Sie sind so lebhaft wie zwanzig Kobolde, die auf einem Grabstein Reigen tanzen."

"Die Atomik ist ein sehr verzwicktes Theorem, und man kann ihr mit Hilfe der Algebra beikommen, man muß dabei aber graduell vorgehen, denn sonst kann es passieren, daß man die ganze Nacht damit verbringt, einen kleinen Teil davon mit Rechenschiebern und Kosinen und anderen ähnlichen Instrumenten zu beweisen, ohne zum Schluß an das zu glauben, was man bewiesen hat ...

"Daher und infolgedessen", fuhr er fort, "können Sie getrost folgern, daß auch Sie aus Atomen hergestellt sind, und dasselbe gilt auch für Ihre Hosentasche und den Schoß Ihres Hemdes und das Instrument, das Sie zur Entfernung von Speiseresten aus der Krümmung Ihres hohlen Zahnes verwenden ...

"Das Brutto- und Nettoresultat davon ist, daß die Persönlichkeit von Menschen, die die meiste Zeit ihres natürlichen Lebens damit verbringen, die steinigen Feldwege dieser Gemeinde mit eisernen Fahrrädern zu befahren, sich mit der Persönlichkeit ihrer Fahrräder vermischt – ein Resultat des wechselseitigen Austausches von Atomen –, und Sie würden sich über die hohe Anzahl von Leuten in dieser Gegend wundern, die halb Mensch und halb Fahrrad sind ...


Sergeant Pluck's Atomic Theory rates not only as one of Jams O'Donnell's favourite literary creations. Thus, as the Esquire thought it was high time he shared it with both of his readers in the hope of getting them on to buy the Third Policeman, on Omnium – with thanks to Harry Rowohlt who congenially translated The Third Policeman / Der dritte Polizist – the Sergeant does speak German.

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Musica Nostalgica

Astronight in Seanhenge

Travelling around 100 million miles ...
... the astrophysicist is tonight. All night.
Focusing on Comet Garradd.
We shall see.






More information here & here & here & here.