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    That was just what I wanted, now I don't want it any more

    That was just what I wanted, now I don't want it any more

    I have been thinking about dreaming up a completely new text for a while now, even though the revisions of the old ones and distribution to the various Blogs will keep me busy for a while, the pipeline is filling up with the blood of my foams, everything has remained below my capabilities during the social media and webmaster activity for a Styrian NGO, still shaky okay, although unfortunately it proves once again that

    all these valuable organizations, clubs and community projects suffer from unrealistic carelessness and defend themselves compulsively. I know this dilemma from the time when I tried to make it clear to the esoteric, psychological and wellness sectors that the Internet and homepages are the future.

    My idea of getting back into consulting in these industries for digital marketing, social media management or modern web presences instead of throwing the good ones to the advertising wolves to be devoured at an overpriced price remains, but daily sighing is included.

    The sharp view is nevertheless still a cynical one and in the end everyone makes things as comfortable for themselves as possible, artists and social enterprises are dependent on the state and bureaucratic bureaucracy instead of acting innovatively.

    And on a smaller scale The way we have dealt with Covid has already shown what corner of the imagination my colleagues and superiors are fluttering away in. Of course, out of their listless disinterest, they will never read this slightly winking subordinate clause, because nobody is really interested in what the cheap labor thinks or does beyond the underpaid pleasure.

    They clearly care more about frogs and mayflies than about sponsored free employees. I know the same phenomenon from my time doing community service and the accidentally discovered black accounts of the then elderly care Clubs are a casual memory.


    I don't bother you anymore. I just had to stop smiling and grunting for a moment so as not to give the impression that I was being influenced by ethical concerns. I'm using this strange but development-rich year to fulfill various hopes. After finishing the home base, maybe even moving, traveling has become the focus of my catch-up efforts.

    But we have to accept that times are changing and the backpacker is becoming more and more dissatisfied and overwhelmed, the digital nomad is more of an illusion that has to act differently than in the hectic Interrail rally between time and other pressures.

    Basically, it's the writer and Blogger who will be left. I have no interest in stupid repetition of all the bullshit activities that the others are satisfied with. Content creators horror.

    Art is my life, sometimes sex and revolution too, but in the end I have no intention of burning up in activist burnout because the endless stupidity of people near and far is tearing my soul apart like a landmine. It's killing my nerves.

    Children/young people and animals, with a focus on females of course, see Afghanistan, Fuck the Patriarchy, at least if their name isn't Schwarzer or Wagenknecht, were always the only ones I felt were worth supporting.

    But then the discussion begins, we are all tricked by irresponsible actions into ignoring and making excuses. Beyond the street where we live, the darkness dangles from the gallows of lies.

    In the third millennium, no one who is not chained to autocratic madness is bathed in the innocence that so many still see themselves in. Neither the Russian from the country, nor you in your shopping spree last night. While you are reading this article, children are starving. And one more thing. Your burger is someone else's death sentence. No, that is not Bolsinaro's fault. If you are not reading me on a Fairphone or refurbished, you are an asshole by nature.

    I'm not saying this to condemn, it's just the way it is. Viewpoints are hardly valued anymore, everything is slime.

    And what am I supposed to respect other than the full-time activists against the madness? Give me a reason, if you can.

    I enjoy the beauty of my search but at the same time I am aware that the rare coincidences with entities out there are becoming rarer, all the bubbles that I wanted to create my own about in hat making are a waste of effort in the business of lonely reflecting about it here and now.

    I can understand the great thinkers and writers better and better, their contempt, their equanimity, their general love without trying to make it concrete. From Bernhard to Bukowski, from Kafka and Kerouc to the shimmers from France, I was just there, it's no wonder, honestly, that the pornography of angry words is able to flourish so magically there. What a run-down, arrogant heap of filth and misguided development.

    Dependent on nuclear power in 2022. What the fuck. Not even able to offer enough trains to leave the country in a day without months of planning.

    You can tell what countries and cities and their inhabitants are like by their homeless people…


    But happy of course. Maybe it's Covid, or monkey pox, given the behavior of all the fellow citizens far and wide that would hardly be strange after this travel route, but these are issues for the Mindful Traveler in general, I care more about hugging you, hurt reader, I think you deserve to be my friend, my dignity lies in your perception, approval on the other hand is of no interest to me.

    I am thirsty for you, for your attention and your reflection, I hope I can open new doors with new words, the old ones are rusty and squeak along questionably. A haunted house, a triviality of eternal oblivion.

    The apartment is empty without Eternity, her drug use is starting to worry me, but the friendly bond is the only option here, I can't mutate into a schoolmaster and controller because she is just as free and stubborn as I am.

    The shady encounters of the last few weeks are still having an impact, completely absurd people who suddenly became more than just pictures on Instagram or Tinder. And why I'm not very picky when it comes to swiping but ultimately tend to avoid all the cruelty and just hope to end up in a constellation that will prove itself without any ifs or buts.

    How superficial being sober makes us, life like a sales pitch. It's no wonder that people absorb everything that somehow invites them to pulsate, that music is so comforting and energetic, that we all mourn and follow the drums of the shamans.

    What else, grow up? For the above? The absurd share of the pie? Regardless of whether it is 1000 a month or 3000/5000. Can you still taste the deception or is your tongue as numb as your heart?

    Padawan Bambi, Queen of Nothing

    But salt on my skin

    It helped, for an hour or two. Conversations with other travelers, a black woman who would marry me, moving to Austria if it was financially advantageous, Hoserl lets her down quicker than I want.

    She already imagines that she deserves a present because she shows me her neighborhood for an hour, and I pay for an ice cream. Magnum vanilla. Even the Algerian salesman is embarrassed by her greedy clarity. He gives me a discount.

    I actually ended up in my own dating apps, in a totally crazy 3D Windows 11 Europe. Android of course too.

    I'm even starting to behave like all the other weird people, paying unbelievable amounts for unbelievable rubbish at unbelievable margins. Carola, help me 🙂

    But the sea is really okay, even if it's a mess like at the Lido. The Adriatic here looks a bit like Neptune had pissed in it.

    I still love it. Simply the fact that I don't feel tied to this nonsense, that I'm only responsible to a very small number of things. But having made a choice a long time ago doesn't mean that I want to continue down this path.

    I'm happy to be around those I don't understand again. I can't drink away my neurodiverse excuses or smoke weed, and I can't deal with the fact that every single psychologist/psychiatrist I meet is even more crazy than I am.

    I listen to Danzig, Eminem and the Pogues, but I shy away from a Lady Gaga concert ticket. A lot of things happen without a plan, I'm business-minded but still always broke.

    This is what happens when you always let children win, Mum, Grandma.

    But Godot is hardly any better off and that comforts me greatly. I don't just question him and all the weird, snotty real spasms thrown in by our society, I question and listen to myself and know that it really is time to rearrange things and just do something concrete. The productive dawdling has disappeared. Longing drools like a sniff.

    I'm going to go into overtime here, draft an endless essay as it should be, and only post very fast so that something happens.

    My eyes are burning, recovery factor is close to zero. Shrugging shoulders. I'm grateful, deep self, but let's lie to each other more often. That seems to make us freer than these truths in deconstruction.

    The trauma of getting out

    has now been resolved; I would hate to have to do without good food and nibble on corn on the cob in the cave.

    With the camera, I have acquired another protective shield against everything out there, in addition to the notepad. I freeze the atoms that stretch out towards me in a sensual and beguiling way, in a sequence of the world's loose interest in me, I observe, probe, smiling is still the magic thing for connecting.

    Grumpy procrastination and dirty jokes are then a distant memory, pearls of encounters rain down, I collect inspiration, but where I should turn remains unanswered, back in Graz I am overcome by a fever, a dry striving, I notice the absolute insignificance of Austria even more than before.

    But is it better somewhere else? Looking for a community, a trailer, a tiny house with solar panels? In the winter on the islands I will probably learn to formulate the answer as to how to proceed.

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