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    Blog went, Art and Therapy

    Blog Endless Essays Blog went, Art and Therapy

    Actually and besides, I was always the Blog that I am now, the narrative threads that I create here in free thinking, loving and acting are patterns and networks that are up to 40 years old, they are more than simple associations and memories, stories or fantasy.

    The attempt to transport all of this into the conventional, into the book and bullshit business, into the trance of ants and bees, always lights up in my mind, but something in me reliably blocks and refuses to cooperate

    Natural authenticity

    , out of an undeniable stubbornness.

    But I like the friction that has been created recently between projects like Hatmacherei, Testdrive Unlimited or Graz am Meer and, last but not least, here, in this expression, this assertion of identity, this colorful little I am I of all parallel earths.

    I think it's more than okay what comes from this side effect and constant internal and external struggle.

    And I feel like even more Blog , even self-writing books, the desire to find literary recognition is no longer enough to satisfy this urge to blog , to write, to design, to do justice.

    I feel the current Urban Monk lack of experience is hindering, but a lot of things emerge that would otherwise have been lost, too pale for the party. It's a long performance, almost without an audience, an improvisational theater rehearsal, I repeat myself, but always different.

    Blog allows me to breathe deeper than any other form of verbal art, of course I see that there are hardly any competitors on this level, I've been dancing on the Internet since 1996/98, it's as if at some point I was surrounded by a train roaring behind me and ultimately over me Conformity and commercialization have been overtaken, fucked by affiliate links and left behind, littered with perfected Google Ads Nichesites, with me questions of quality, survival instinct and meaning.

    Like in the good old days of eBay, before everything was castrated, destroyed and conquered by the greedy, slimy people, by the extremely successful elbow greasers. Until ultimately private auctions almost developed into a drama and loss-making business, and people had to flee into an originality that was immediately taken over by the caravan of greed.

    I was always active and in love before the crowd came. Digital nomads, for example, are just a copy of what they could be, but content with the stultifying process of taking as much money as possible out of other people's pockets as simply as possible, while appearing privileged and smarter, narrow-minded in the Apple uniformity of the standard lookyoga class, I think here too the romance of what a few authentic people dared to dream of is dead.

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