Saturday, September 06, 2008
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Eros and the God of the little things ...
... could also have been the title of the previous post.
Means, there was no need of mocking about poor Mr. Phelps. On the other hand I thought, his joyless face in the perhaps greatest moments in his swimming career would give a nice contrast to my (our) joyful faces about such jerkwater muscular efforts like weeding between the cracks of a courtyard and planting a row of strawberries.
Anyway, utterly determined to not throw the title above into the vortex of oblivion, I take it for this post, and I am quite optimistic finally you will agree that it makes some sense.
Alright then.
At about seven we went upstairs, took a shower, prepared a lasagne and a little salad, enjoyed both together with a glass of red, talked about this and that, and around midnight, when Mrs. J. had gone to make herself bed-fine - 'sich bettfein machen' is an uncommon German idiom :) - I went on balcony to feed my lungs-worm.
What a sky. I could not remember to ever have seen so many stars with naked ... alright, spectacled eyes. Amazing. Beautiful. Really a bit excited I felt.
And so, when, after she had shared my delight for two or three minutes, Mrs. J. felt drawn to the warmth of the feathers, I switched off all lights, even the candles - yes, yes, the candles I 'switched off' by using a match to dip the wicks into the wax - and sat down on balcony staring into the past, which is our planet's future.
Ah, yes! It must be fascinating to live such a night inmidst a desert.
Ha ha, even in such wonderful seconds human beings tend to think of that it could be better - somehow, somewhere. :)
Well, at 1 a.m. the street-lights went off, I put my Aran on, tiptoed downstairs through the cellar into the garden, took a chair, carried it to the middle of the lawn (which is in fact a meadow) sat down, and watched what I got offered in my open-air planetarium. Ahh ...
... and ... I started to think of what - in a way - has already been subject of the previous post: those little 'things' around us that we'd often take for granted without appreciating them.
Why? Why would I? Due to education? Experience? Teaching myself? Or is it just a gift? Perhaps. Perhaps a 'mixture' of all.
All these stars up there. And down here, this tiny cosmos existing of apple-, plum-, hazelnut- and cherry-trees, red-currant, black-currant, Josta - a cross-breeding (Jo for Johannisbeere = currant, sta for Stachelbeere = gooseberry), ... ah ha ha - would take too long to list all. Did I write tiny cosmos? :)
All these stars up there. Chaos?
All the chaos-corners in this cosmos down here.
And still - it's (also) this chaos that I love. A contradiction that I'd call myself an aesthete? What is beauty? What's perfect?
The imperfectness ... sometimes ... let me feel: This is a perfect place.
A place that is mirroring the chaos in my head ... my heart? :)
Only those having chaos in their heart will be able to give birth to ... Oh dear, Nietzsche, is this true? Am I pregnant with a dancing star?
:) Has to be. All my faults, all my mistakes. Do I regret? Yes. And no, as without all my strange 'decisions' I had (very probably) not made all those experiences which - looking back - let me become what now I am.
Time to deliver the 'baby'. Otherwise I might not have enough time to enjoy watching it dancing.
What will my star look like? This "something" that I do love without having seen it, yet, of which I do not even know that it exists / will exist; that does exist / will exist, though, because I feel it.
Don't know why, suddendly I remembered this photo of Asteroid Eros.
courtesy NASA/Reuters
The potatoes! According to the forecast this Sunday would be the last of a two days lasting rainless summer-period.
Thus, time to put my head on the pillow.
Mind you, I had better 'little things' to dream of than ... (digging) potatoes. :)
Means, there was no need of mocking about poor Mr. Phelps. On the other hand I thought, his joyless face in the perhaps greatest moments in his swimming career would give a nice contrast to my (our) joyful faces about such jerkwater muscular efforts like weeding between the cracks of a courtyard and planting a row of strawberries.
Anyway, utterly determined to not throw the title above into the vortex of oblivion, I take it for this post, and I am quite optimistic finally you will agree that it makes some sense.
Alright then.
At about seven we went upstairs, took a shower, prepared a lasagne and a little salad, enjoyed both together with a glass of red, talked about this and that, and around midnight, when Mrs. J. had gone to make herself bed-fine - 'sich bettfein machen' is an uncommon German idiom :) - I went on balcony to feed my lungs-worm.
What a sky. I could not remember to ever have seen so many stars with naked ... alright, spectacled eyes. Amazing. Beautiful. Really a bit excited I felt.
And so, when, after she had shared my delight for two or three minutes, Mrs. J. felt drawn to the warmth of the feathers, I switched off all lights, even the candles - yes, yes, the candles I 'switched off' by using a match to dip the wicks into the wax - and sat down on balcony staring into the past, which is our planet's future.
Ah, yes! It must be fascinating to live such a night inmidst a desert.
Ha ha, even in such wonderful seconds human beings tend to think of that it could be better - somehow, somewhere. :)
Well, at 1 a.m. the street-lights went off, I put my Aran on, tiptoed downstairs through the cellar into the garden, took a chair, carried it to the middle of the lawn (which is in fact a meadow) sat down, and watched what I got offered in my open-air planetarium. Ahh ...
... and ... I started to think of what - in a way - has already been subject of the previous post: those little 'things' around us that we'd often take for granted without appreciating them.
Why? Why would I? Due to education? Experience? Teaching myself? Or is it just a gift? Perhaps. Perhaps a 'mixture' of all.
All these stars up there. And down here, this tiny cosmos existing of apple-, plum-, hazelnut- and cherry-trees, red-currant, black-currant, Josta - a cross-breeding (Jo for Johannisbeere = currant, sta for Stachelbeere = gooseberry), ... ah ha ha - would take too long to list all. Did I write tiny cosmos? :)
All these stars up there. Chaos?
All the chaos-corners in this cosmos down here.
And still - it's (also) this chaos that I love. A contradiction that I'd call myself an aesthete? What is beauty? What's perfect?
The imperfectness ... sometimes ... let me feel: This is a perfect place.
A place that is mirroring the chaos in my head ... my heart? :)
Only those having chaos in their heart will be able to give birth to ... Oh dear, Nietzsche, is this true? Am I pregnant with a dancing star?
:) Has to be. All my faults, all my mistakes. Do I regret? Yes. And no, as without all my strange 'decisions' I had (very probably) not made all those experiences which - looking back - let me become what now I am.
Time to deliver the 'baby'. Otherwise I might not have enough time to enjoy watching it dancing.
What will my star look like? This "something" that I do love without having seen it, yet, of which I do not even know that it exists / will exist; that does exist / will exist, though, because I feel it.
Don't know why, suddendly I remembered this photo of Asteroid Eros.
courtesy NASA/ReutersThe potatoes! According to the forecast this Sunday would be the last of a two days lasting rainless summer-period.
Thus, time to put my head on the pillow.
Mind you, I had better 'little things' to dream of than ... (digging) potatoes. :)
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
The difference between Mr Phelps and me
Those who do know me a little would still sometimes be surprised that I could do things, which most people would consider most boring, such as weeding and chipping wood, for hours and hours.
Actually it surprises me, myself, now and then as I am pretty sure I could happily live without.
So, why would I do it, then? It has to be done.
Why would it - sometimes - take hours? Simply because I am too lazy doing it every day. :)
Anyway, while being busy with hunting weeds, I can let my thoughts travel, contemplate, connect dots, dive into the ocean of my fantasy or even stop thinking; not seldom out of this nothing an idea would appear.
In any case, after hours I can see the result of what my hands have been doing. :)
Exactly this is why Sunday evening I wrote: This month ended like it began - august.
And I added: More in September.
So here's for a start. Saturday, after a marvellous breakfast I got struck by the idea of weeding between the cracks on the courtyard (if that's the proper word).
About 90 minutes later, returning with the empty bucket I thought: This is, again, one of those things, once they are done noone would notice except of oneself.
People / Neighbours rather tend to take notice of things which 'ought to be done', would you agree? :)
Thus, I took my cellular and - a photo.
And another 90 minutes later a second one.
Done. :)
Nothing special. Still I felt pleased.
- Wow, like new, Sean!
Mrs. J. who had been busy with planting a new row strawberries smiled. I smiled. A hug, some kisses, eyes sparkling ...
- Seems what I've done is better than winning gold-medals in Doping.
- Of course, Sean. :) And surely you will tell me why.
- Well, did you see the gentleman with the speed-yogurt in his fridge ever showing joy and happiness in the seconds after his triumphs?
- Usaine Bolt?
- No, the water-bolt, Mr. Phelps.
- Ah, no. If one had not seen him winning in world-record time, one could have thought he had become eightth.
Later, while digging up potatoes Mr. Phelps reappeared in my mind. Probably eight terrible years lying ahead. And any day 'they' may find the magic ingredience in his probes.
Probably? How political incorrect. Perhaps. Perhaps! Presumption of innocence. Ha ha, what a curiously shaped potatoe. I picked it up, showed it Mrs. J., and both we laughed.
Somehow I felt pity with Mr. Phelps.
Actually it surprises me, myself, now and then as I am pretty sure I could happily live without.
So, why would I do it, then? It has to be done.
Why would it - sometimes - take hours? Simply because I am too lazy doing it every day. :)
Anyway, while being busy with hunting weeds, I can let my thoughts travel, contemplate, connect dots, dive into the ocean of my fantasy or even stop thinking; not seldom out of this nothing an idea would appear.
In any case, after hours I can see the result of what my hands have been doing. :)
Exactly this is why Sunday evening I wrote: This month ended like it began - august.
And I added: More in September.
So here's for a start. Saturday, after a marvellous breakfast I got struck by the idea of weeding between the cracks on the courtyard (if that's the proper word).
About 90 minutes later, returning with the empty bucket I thought: This is, again, one of those things, once they are done noone would notice except of oneself.
People / Neighbours rather tend to take notice of things which 'ought to be done', would you agree? :)
Thus, I took my cellular and - a photo.
And another 90 minutes later a second one.
Done. :)
Nothing special. Still I felt pleased.
- Wow, like new, Sean!
Mrs. J. who had been busy with planting a new row strawberries smiled. I smiled. A hug, some kisses, eyes sparkling ...
- Seems what I've done is better than winning gold-medals in Doping.
- Of course, Sean. :) And surely you will tell me why.
- Well, did you see the gentleman with the speed-yogurt in his fridge ever showing joy and happiness in the seconds after his triumphs?
- Usaine Bolt?
- No, the water-bolt, Mr. Phelps.
- Ah, no. If one had not seen him winning in world-record time, one could have thought he had become eightth.
Later, while digging up potatoes Mr. Phelps reappeared in my mind. Probably eight terrible years lying ahead. And any day 'they' may find the magic ingredience in his probes.
Probably? How political incorrect. Perhaps. Perhaps! Presumption of innocence. Ha ha, what a curiously shaped potatoe. I picked it up, showed it Mrs. J., and both we laughed.
Somehow I felt pity with Mr. Phelps.
Monday, September 01, 2008
A symbol of beauty
Sunday, August 31, 2008
August ending
Isn't this a strange world?
While German soldiers by defending Germany at the Hindukush (according to Germany's former war- ... err ... defence-minister) and thus doing their duty and nothing but their duty, are killing a woman and two children, while probably about 100.000 children died of starvation, while ...,
... I lived three splendid days.
To cut it short: This month ended like it began - august.
More in September. :)
While German soldiers by defending Germany at the Hindukush (according to Germany's former war- ... err ... defence-minister) and thus doing their duty and nothing but their duty, are killing a woman and two children, while probably about 100.000 children died of starvation, while ...,
... I lived three splendid days.
To cut it short: This month ended like it began - august.
More in September. :)
Friday, August 29, 2008
Oh well, who cares
What difference does it make to the dead,
the orphans and the homeless, whether
the mad destruction is wrought under
the name of totalitarism or
the holy name of liberty and democracy?
M.K. Gandhi,
Non-Violence in Peace and War, 1948
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Quis leget haec? :)
March 23rd, 2010:
better late than never, hm?
Dear visitors, as almost daily several visitors from all continents stumble upon Omnium while (obviously) searching for the meaning of Quis leget haec?, exactly 19 months after the original post, here an UPDATE: and thus the answer you are looking for:
Quis leget haec? in English means: Who will read this?
Hope I could be of help. Perhaps you let me know?
Anyway, all the best to you.
S.J.
Lingua Latina mortua est! Omnibusne locis? Minime! Nonullis orbis terrarum locis lingua Latina adhuc vivit et floret. Ante diem decimum Calendas Septembres (nostra lingua 23. August) statio televisifica, quae 3sat appelatur, etiam relationem telefisificam nominis "Kulturzeit extra" totam Latine versam per aetherias undas transmittet - sic!
I can imagine that at least Mr. Deogowulf and Laudator temporis acti might find interesting to watch
this.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Prague - freedom - spring
The past three posts very probably would not have been written if - being on my way to become 15 - there had not been Alexander Dubček, the Prague Spring, and its end on August 21 1968, when as Václav Havel later put it, the ("brother"-) state(s) behaved like a girl blaming the mirror for being ugly, and therefore smashed it.
It have been those few months twelve years after the Hungarian Revolution, the photographs of Josef Koudelka, the later Magnum photographer, and the reaction of the western governments that let me start becoming a political thinking human being.
Fourty years have 'flown by' since, and still I do remember these events as vividly as I do remember the tongue of the girl who happened to become the first girl ever to whisper words of love into my ears ... :)
It have been those few months twelve years after the Hungarian Revolution, the photographs of Josef Koudelka, the later Magnum photographer, and the reaction of the western governments that let me start becoming a political thinking human being.
Fourty years have 'flown by' since, and still I do remember these events as vividly as I do remember the tongue of the girl who happened to become the first girl ever to whisper words of love into my ears ... :)
Mother-Cross for McSwagger
Mr. McCain* says he would pursue Obama ... err ... Osama bin Laden “to the gates of hell”.
Mr. McCain* - peace be upon him - is a swaggerer**, i.e w/talking with an air of overbearing self-confidence, conducting himself in an arrogant or superciliously pompous manner.
Mr. McCain* would pursue any terrorist as much as any Pharaoh took part in building a pyramid.
All he'd do were sending thousands of (young) people*** not only to what he calls the gates of hell. Many of them would step through.
As Mr. McCain* like all Cheneys on this planet can't get enough human recources for his chessbord games, the pious follower of the legendary Jesus Christ votes against abortion.
Tetrapilotomos suggests the world-wide invention of a certain mother-cross.
* the name is exchangable. I do, f.e. remember Vladimir 'Ras' Putin once saying (to the Chechen): 'We shall squelch these animals/critters/vermin'.
** One could also say: Mr. McCain* is a bloody liar.
*** mind you, no sons of members of Congress and Senate, of course!!
Mr. McCain* - peace be upon him - is a swaggerer**, i.e w/talking with an air of overbearing self-confidence, conducting himself in an arrogant or superciliously pompous manner.
Mr. McCain* would pursue any terrorist as much as any Pharaoh took part in building a pyramid.
All he'd do were sending thousands of (young) people*** not only to what he calls the gates of hell. Many of them would step through.
As Mr. McCain* like all Cheneys on this planet can't get enough human recources for his chessbord games, the pious follower of the legendary Jesus Christ votes against abortion.
Tetrapilotomos suggests the world-wide invention of a certain mother-cross.
* the name is exchangable. I do, f.e. remember Vladimir 'Ras' Putin once saying (to the Chechen): 'We shall squelch these animals/critters/vermin'.
** One could also say: Mr. McCain* is a bloody liar.
*** mind you, no sons of members of Congress and Senate, of course!!
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