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    Sooooo a few confusions at snack time and neuro-banal coding celebrations later, the flaneur strolls with his Armed Forces of Inner Discussions on the Sunset Street of the Honey Thrush, I don't feel like it, but it falls just as ominously to the debate in the last miles of unfolding as an impaled, freshly hatched butterfly miss.

    The herbs and beets of word management discover the playful flourishes and snorkeling in being. Longing preaches from the pulpit, the traveling brain that was patched up in the summer wants this forever and more often.

    Design instead of therapy

    The Mulzer Practitioner from 2020, the evening trances he actually bought, all of this continues to keep me very busy, it divides me in impatience between theory and practice due to the New Year's mania, which can be so relaxed. It's still different than the fanboi-like touch a few years earlier. And ideally in line with the Sims or the enthusiasm for cheating on Buzzsumo easy.

    There is only part of the truth in the neurological rapture of delight and good feelings. Sexualization and socialization are already blood-wired. Jeffrey Dahmer on Netflix suits me very well as a supplementary reflection.

    And this renewed joy in digital gaming.
    You can also move the board from your head to the table for fun. My muscles loosen up like the tongue after strong beer, everything wants to express itself deeper and more fantastically than would be possible Blog

    Good options have already been found for this and a new one is coming soon with the Anything in a Nutshell concept. How I've missed it since the reduction of millinery to the tribe idea!

    I still like to dawdle. And another coffee. And another live ticker.

    And the worries and fear clusters aren't fully baked either, doughy and desolate, he mourns missed opportunities, bad starting positions, only to, in the same breath, shout and incite the freedom of the bon vivant and unattached magician, to invite the Siddharta in me onto the stage. Where there is a lot of light, there is also a lot of shadow, which means the state of things and trots away with the golden caged bird.

    Who bent my timeline as a pant devil horn split, can't that also be interpreted as Loki's helmet? Eternity feeds me grass as I pass by academically, everything is a little nicer. But this is also a worrying roundabout. Traceable back to the prehistoric times between Jessica, Nikita and Co.

    Of course I am an ill-formed sentence failure, Rimbaud out of competition, a poetry slamer before such a thing existed. But at first glance, everything here is just one sentence.

    Despite generalizations, I call him poet's slime.

    I remain a weather-sensitive, transient possibility, a quantum effect without a stable deep structure, it's like being exposed to something new every day and there isn't even a marmot to pet. A clown with painted champagne tears.

    And only when the fog of fantasy begins to clear and waking up becomes real, only then can one explore the horizon, pin and tag the vision of the future. And I'm definitely triggered and horny for that. Life is that easy thing that an entire unkissed Sleeping Beauty book tells about.

    The wonderland in power and splendor hovers right in front of me, all the people who dared to enter and stay there beckon, entice, teach. My hatter's home is built right on the border, it's somehow really this wake up connected to the Rabbit Hole Tunnel that I originally began to follow in love when midlife came knocking.

    Every prepared booklet, Blog label, every inner radio cast, every influencer template begins to feel like a prophecy, even as pseudonyms become increasingly useful and intense. I also manage the leftovers from the Austrian plot. Naughty nightmare sequences as if I was still the same 16 year old on the run. The light in the anteroom is constantly on, swapping a cozy city apartment for an artist's shared apartment.


    wherever you look. Storage capacities, speed, human capital. Global aspects. I am aware that I should create a new quality of life for myself, because the one I love so much becomes dulled and curtailed when I masturbate, and it only proves to be loveable to a limited extent.

    All the perfectly coordinated illusion of getting things under control is still a winter fur farce at best and must give way to spring awakening soon. I'll probably have a company concept approved without actually wanting it.

    Every inspiring minimundus between Chrome browser window, 4K stream or Playful Warezfun is a ten-finger indication of what should be soulful and popular. The pain, slowed down on the gyno chair of history, has long since exploded into the appropriate bailiff of idiocy.

    But far from lamenting, because the confusion in the Class 3 recovery room is hardly a dissonance worth mentioning when you look around, hear and feel. Suffering packaged into billions and billions of cries for help makes me angry and courageous in a way that only art and kink can do in me.

    But actually it finds its purpose in movement, in travel mode. I just want to point out that I haven't returned to my convoluted puzzle language to whine and sulk.

    Blog and Personal Page are doubt-farting creases in the crust of my world. And Aimagick sets off. So on. So fucking on.

    Here I present samples and art pieces and point out what is necessary. I'm exposing myself but I do point out Smart Projects, the basic systems of my cities of thought and fantasy worlds. Here the analogy to Philip K.Dick is important. Yes, gentle madness is always in the room when you fly your drones over other people's cuckoos' nests to give your voyeur free rein.

    But 5-year plans weren't a good idea in the Soviet Union, and every dream is its own prison, which is constantly rediscovering itself and inventing a trap. Existences like mine that are just a push of a button away from Deletion should be included in the species protection program.

    The forgotten beggar monk on the side of the road, this quiet person and all his longings, who cower anxiously before the world of lies in the limelight, all the masquerades remain upright and make a variety of senses. I want to correct the unbearable glory of non-existence to Kundera. My Terese calls herself Shakti.

    A Russian woman just wanted to start walking with me in this spirit, no, my dear, everything deserves a little more grounding. And the fugitive becomes a refugee, is a ghost faster than I can start Telegram. But I know this insignificance of the spark of love from my own behavior, my senses continue to feast at the same moment. If I were Russian, I would constantly be sailing away without a destination. As an Austrian, Central European with alien genetics with you at least in the Gandalf preposition, which is extensively explained elsewhere

    And yet Making Love in Dangerous Times isn't just about this gypsy dance in the middle of nowhere, it's clear to me that the universe is thanking me for my renewed attention with non-stop fun. A Witcher with a stomach ache is still a Witcher.

    The dream as a creative masterpiece, as a multi-voiced concert of projects and publications, as an orgy of Dionysian glory, the great effortless letting go, the eternal carnival, and then again this ant thing, this bowing of heads, that human existence becomes in its early historical phases will probably swallow up a few thousand more years.

    Where is my mind?

    Staying on deck in this orchestra of scandal, this apparent reality that believes itself to be self-identifying, remains the top priority. Out there in the sea, Neptune's mood is raging and raging, the life jacket is securely lashed, but its steadfastness is questionable.

    Pirates enjoy the gentle winds. This careless measuring with the eye of the storm makes no sense, we prefer to glide through Caribbean waters from island to island, harbors and bays, friendly gendered mermaids wave us ashore.

    The rum is going on, the songs are getting louder. I am this Garp or how he saw the world in its purest form, a Photoshop charade under copy-paste palms. Maybe I should have taken over Athena's coven and mated the horse mistress before someone else did.

    Instead of walking along the Mur with an invisible black dog and criticizing the uneventfulness and transparent repeat offenses of the Styrian Kahr province.

    Being Neo doesn't help if you can't figure out what you're willing to load into the white space.

    My alienation is a parable. Only a few follow this dream. I hardly see anything revolutionary, everything is focused on the small stuff in the immediate vicinity. Enjoys getting used to it. The favorite excuse is to strive for improvement in the smallest steps.

    The unconsciousness or the remembered repeat of the average dream and the hedonistic lust of a lucid person leave no answer. Creativity may help, the playfulness, but ultimately the English level of meaning of creativity is more useful, we have to become engineers of being again without rotting in the small mind of subjectivity.

    The almost psychedelic-seeming naivety of the start-up culture freed from the mocked ropes could be an answer, this California that is actually inherent in many Sunny Beach metropolitan regions, but we all know how strong the interaction with the environment is, whips crack, so choose your home bases too Considerately. Like your dream companion.

    My loas encourage me. The reader who has been teased up to this point will probably venture a little further in sympathy, rightly pointing out that freedom in me proves that it is not the only solution and that happiness should be given a butane meaning.

    Well, it's true that I don't mention luck too often.

    It occurs in providence and in bliss. In wishing and in my research for meaning. But as I pondered and took a sauna, I began to forget about it.

    The dream of happiness

    cannot be relegated to MMDA. A bride who is too unreliable. Like Prada.

    But while freedom proves to be an ally that at least ensures that you are free, happiness is harder to persuade. There is satisfaction in lying and by no means as stable as pretending and I am familiar with fraud.

    As a searcher for the superstructure and disappointed by the previous offer, which at best found a partial answer in science and a sprinkling in art, the breaded schnitzel from the Tree of Knowledge is a little tough.

    My cobra chef grins almost maniacally,

    “Love is the law, love under will. “

    But, is this really the truth ?

    Be thoughtful, considerate, be still as a stone, smell like a flower. Miss out on your life. Be helpful and useful.

    The dreamer sits at the notebook that needs cleaning, receives emails from Daddy, "You're not my Daddy" and an idea of ​​what he wants to organize in the future and how.

    Smart weather gray has always had a cocaine nose for change. I dig deep into my bag of tricks in the storage room, even the ones marked Failed.

    In an emergency, I tell Eternity, in an emergency I'll move as Madhatter from tourist hotspot to tourist hotspot, Ozora to Ozora, and be available to the crowds in pantomime for exposure, and I'm sure an Alice won't be traveling far with me, a Cheshire Cat or something always want to expand the colorful crowd.

    “Why in an emergency? “

    she whispers back lightheartedly. There's also flippant cheerfulness, including Obsessions and the Milkyway Today story, or you can leave it at that. You can always do that. Making silent films with Sims actors.

    It's the time of migratory birds, I can understand the young wild fairies and elves, sea creatures and unicorns all too well, even cold deserves beauty, weather can be chosen, limits only exist in our brains.

    Meanwhile, my poly shamans are already in Andalusia doing the right thing, I'm sitting here and discussing the modus operandi of transformation with you.

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