Born Slippy

Drive boy dog boy
Dirty numb angel boy
In the doorway boy
She was a lipstick boy
She was a beautiful boy
And tears boy
And all in your innerspace boy
You had
hands girl boy
and steel boy
You had chemicals boy
I've grown so close to you
Boy and you just groan boy
She said comeover comeover
She smiled at you boy.

Drive boy dog boy
Dirty numb angel boy
In the doorway boy
She was a lipstick boy
She was a beautiful boy
And tears boy
And all in your innerspace boy
You had
hands girl boy
and steel boy
You had chemicals boy
I've grown so close to you
Boy and you just groan boy
She said comeover comeover
She smiled at you boy.

Let your feelings slip boy
But never your mask boy
Random blonde bio high density rhythm
Blonde boy blonde country blonde high density
You are my drug boy
You're real boy
Speak to me and boy dog
Dirty numb cracking boy
You get wet boy
Big big time boy
Acid bear boy
Babes and babes and babes and babes and babes
And remembering nothing boy
You like my tin horn boy and get
Wet like an angel
Derail

You got a velvet mouth
You're so succulent and beautiful
Shimmering and dirty
Wonderful and hot times
On your telephone line
And god and everything
On your telephone
And in walk an angel

And look at me your mom
Squatting pissed in a tube-
hole at Tottenham Court Road
I just come out of the ship
Talking to the most
Blonde I ever met
Shouting
Lager lager lager lager
Shouting
Lager lager lager lager
Shouting...
Lager lager lager
Shouting
Mega mega white thing
Mega mega white thing
Mega mega white thing
Mega mega
Shouting lager lager lager lager
Mega mega white thing
Mega mega white thing
So many things to see and do
In the tube hole true
Blonde going back to Romford
Mega mega mega going back to Romford
Hi mom are you having fun
And now are you on your way
To a new tension
headache

Thirteen days a week (2)

Life can´t be a party all the time. "Everything what goes up, must come down."
It took me thirteen days.
It´s kind of strange - I don´t like the drum-and-bass they prefer in Leipzig, but it seems, they have good contacts to the British scene.
Often there are famous DJs from the most European island. Many Metalheadz guys.
Two weeks after my Dresden-experience DJ Storm came to Leipzig. A friend of mine told me.
We met friday (!!!!) evening at my place. He brought a mate with him. It was still early that night, so we watched a couple of Southpark-episodes and had some coffee.
This one guy is working at a coffee-shop, so I had to convince him, that my espresso is better than the stuff he has to sell.
(I always have some gourmet-espresso, not that cheap stuff from the supermarket). Everybody got a glass of water, some amarettini an now we tested the different espressi I´ve made. The first one was an 100% Arabica (my favourite), the other one was an Robusta/Arabica-mixture. Good stuff. Definitely better than RedBull.
We started round about midnight. Due to the fact that we only had two beers and besides we were kind of hungry, we went to a local Späti.
Damn! It was pretty cold outside. I wished, I´ve put my Becks into the microwave instead of the fridge. When we arrived at the Späti, this place was already closed since 10:00pm. Not really disappointed but still hungry we moved on. On our way we passed a church. There were two giggling girls. Both of them were totally drunk. It seemed, they couldn´t find any other toilet, except the churche´s corners. We stand on the other side of the street yelling: "Plätscher, plätscher!" I don´t think, it was for them as funny as for us.
This friend of mine was looking for a bank, so this was our next stop. Outside the bank-building we met some really nice girls. You know this emo-girls? With these HelloKitty-buttons, chucks and this uniform haircut? We tried to convince them, to come with us, but they were already on their way home.
We weren´t in a hurry. So we arrived at the "Distillery" round about 1.00am. This place is really strange! The bouncers did nothing! Just standing there. They didn´t even search for drugs or weapons. Outside the club, there was a BBQ. We were still hungry, so I had a bratwurst, which was pretty hot. However, my mates had steaks, which weren´t even warm. They didn´t care - no more starving.
The lady at the entrance was pretty stupid. She wasn´t able to put a stamp on my arm! She hit my hand twice, but didn´t hit my arm.

We went in. Jungle. Slow 150 bpm stuff. I had a look on the people there. Students. Never seen a shaver in a year, or soap. At a Reggea-Party I had expected guys like these, so I get afraid: Is this the right party? At the wardrobe, all that "good Germans" stand in a row. We went by, and gave that wardrobe-girl our jackets. Nobody complained. Same at the bar, this weak bastards all stand there, and I get my beer first. Pussies. I don´t want to, but this student-guys always make me aggressive.
I get a beer (Krombacher) and a plastic-chip for deposit. Nice idea, but I always loose tiny, little things like this.
There were two floors: Leipzig-style-d´n´b on the mainfloor and "Breakbeat, HipHop, Electronica" [sic] on the second floor. This meant CDs instead of a DJ. We found a leather-couch near the bar, so we could have a look on the girls and this hippie-student-clowns. Storm was already playing. Wasn´t really good, in my opinion.
I knew, she´s maybe thirty or something, but when I saw this old woman behind the turntables, I thought it would be probably a good idea buying some Botox-stocks.
We kept sitting on our couch, laughing out these Leipzig-guys.
The more bere, cocktails or whatever I get, the worse become my parties. The last parties I went to, I had less beer, but more fun than ever before. In Dresden (Thirteen days a week 1 ) I only got three beer. This evening I had two, and I didn´t want more.
I went over to the bar and pushed some guys slightly away. Telling the waitress to get me some mineral-water. She was neither really pretty nor really kind. I asked, if I could get a cold water, and not that warm one, which she put into the fridge just a few seconds before. I smiled and asked really nice. But she didn´t want to do me that favour. I didn´t mind and went back to my mates. Some guy sat on "my" place. I didn´t say anything. Just staring at these guy and making a little gesture. He sneaked away. In Dresden they would kick my ass for behaviour like that. In here, they didn´t even say a word!
The music was not like partying. So I continued my "distillery-sight-seeing-tour" and went to the facilities.
In Germany there´s a law, saying a public location must have separate toilets for men and women. Hmmm, Leipzig have to be an exterritorial area. Due to in this club, there exists only an unisex-toilet. Interesting. It might have some advantages, I thought, remembering this party in DD two weeks ago.
But there were some strong disadvantages. The cabins were pretty filthy, more than I ever had seen before on a mens toilet. Besides it was almost impossible to wash your hands, because all the girls were standing in front of the mirror. However, it was kind of interesting, listen to that silly chats. "Uhhh! Wie kriegst du deine Locken so schön hin?" And after this curly girl had left: "Man, sah die scheiße aus!" Hahahahahaaa!
I took the stairs down to the second floor. All I saw was this artificial party-smoke. There they kept playing music from CDs or harddisks. Pretty boring. At the bar I tried to get water from the waitress, the nice one, and she gave me a cold bottle. My friends were still sitting on "our" couch.

The mainfloor was absolutely overcrowded. Still wondering why. In most cases the big-names are really disappointing. They seem bored and kinda nasty. I can´t stand this "I-am-resident-at-a-London-club"-attitude.
Let me describe what was going on during Storm was playing her set.
All these student-hippie-guys were yelling. You all know these kind of guys, asking: "Hey, haste ma ne Kippe? Kann ich mir ma eine drehen? Entspann dich ma, ist alles cooool." They all were cheering to the person on the platform. Hey! DJ Storm! She´s famous. She MUST be great. Seventy years ago, these were the guys cheering to others on platforms.
Imagine a plastic-bag, stuffed with 150 pounds of grease! Imagine, this bag is wearing shoes! And now, imagine this plastic-bag is falling from one shoe to the other! You got it? This is, how the average d´n´b-fan from Leipzig is moving to the music. An elephant suffering on athritis is more graceful. A concrete-pile seems more dynamic.
About 4 o´clock Storm finished her set and some Leipzig-local took over. Same lame stuff. Everytime, when I thought: "Nice, it´s getting faster" he (and Storm before) broke the beat. Pretty annoying. But, his set was increasing. Progressive. Not this really hard stuff I prefer, but something for partying. Do you still have the picture from this grease-bags in your mind? Imagine 100 or maybe 150 shoulder to shoulder an a small dancefloor. The quest is: How to party in the middle of 100 grease-bags.
This lame "left-foot, right-food, left-food,..."-crowd couldn´t really deal with my kind of partying. The advantage was, I´ve had enough space to move. Probably, I was the only one, with more than an arm-length to his neighbours. The disadvantage: all these unshaved student-faggots stared at me, thinking: "Hmmmm...(mental emptiness)" I enjoyed it. Had my fun. In cases like this, I don´t mind, what people possibly think.
Smoking inside clubs is prohibited since a couple of months. As a non-smoker, this is pretty cool. If the party is over, you don´t smell like an ashtray. But there are always some people, breaking the law. In this club, the bouncer sneaked through the crowd, and if he saw a guy smoking, he took their cigarettes, putting it on the floor. I´ve seen him doing it three times. Sympathic guy, this bouncer.
All of sudden, point 6.00am they switched on the lights - and stopped the music. Six o´clock! In the morning! Can you dig it? It was like a cultural-shock or something.
In my hometown, they had beaten up the DJ.
I still had these plastic-chip, so I went to the bar, getting my money back. In the light, the bar-maids looked still more ugly than before. Now we had to get our jackets. The same scene, all this "good-German"-students stand there, in a (much longer) row, well disciplined. Like sheeps, waiting in a slaughter-house. I walked on by, pushed some guy slightly away, got my jackets, got my friends jackets and went out.
Outside it was already light. I was in these particular after-party mood. The light, the sound in your head, being tired. We went to the tram-stop. On the way, I found a flowerpot next a bike. I took the flowers with me. My mates friend (this coffee-shop-guy), who had to work these day, took a taxi to get home. The rest of us missed the tram, so we walked home. It´s always strange when you went home from party, seeing all the other people. Saturday morning, many of them went to work. Strange. We stopped at a bakery, to get some cake and a muffin. I put the flowerpot on a table and went out. Ten seconds later: "Damn! I´ve forgotten my flowers", so I went back in and got them. At the LVZ-building, I had to move left, my mate straight ahead, so we said goodbye.
It was still pretty cold, the way home took me about 30 minutes, and I still carried this god-damn flowerpot.
At home, I put it on the table in my room, took a shower an went to bed. When I woke up, the flowers seemed pretty weak, it was too warm for them inside. I put the flowerpot outside my window. There it still is.

Getting depressed by a poem, yeeeha!

Der Panther


Sein Blick ist vom Vorübergehn der Stäbe
so müd geworden, dass er nichts mehr hält.
Ihm ist, als ob es tausend Stäbe gäbe
und hinter tausend Stäben keine Welt.

Der weiche Gang geschmeidig starker Schritte,
der sich im allerkleinsten Kreise dreht,
ist wie ein Tanz von Kraft um eine Mitte,
in der betäubt ein großer Wille steht.

Nur manchmal schiebt der Vorhang der Pupille
sich lautlos auf -. Dann geht ein Bild hinein,
geht durch der Glieder angespannte Stille -
und hört im Herzen auf zu sein.



Rainer Maria Rilke, 6.11.1902, Paris

I recently went to many toilets - doing some research

Herrentoillette im Reichstagsgebäude:



Eine wahre Geschichte


Während ich heute in der Uni saß, verlangte die Natur nach ihrem Recht.
Da man nicht gegen die Natur ankämpfen, sondern in Harmonie mit ihr leben soll, lenkte ich meine Schritte in Richtung eines gefließten Palastes.
In allen Seminarräumen presste man zu diesm Zeitpunkt Wissen in studentische Schädel.
Auf dem Gang war es ruhig.
Im permanenten Drang, das Kommunikationsverhalten der Menschen bis ins letzte Detail zu untersuchen, las ich die Schriftdokumente an der Tür meines keramischen Throns. Beeindruckt von der zielgruppenorientierten, Streuverluste minimierenden Nutzung des Mediums "Klotür" las ich:
"Wichsen, blasen, was du willst."
Ein anderer Stift, einer anderen Handschrift unterworfen, kommentierte in dieser one-on-one-communication:
"Wann bist du wieder hier?"
Die Kunst des Dialoges bis zur Perfektion beherrschend, schaffte es einer der beiden Autoren eine Antwort an die Tür dieses Villeroy-und-Boch-Königreiches zu kritzeln.
"17.04.08 - 12.00"
Ich sitze also da, ergötze mich an der schlichten Ästhetik weißer Kacheln. Als sich plötzlich mein Verstand für einen Moment davon losreißen kann, um sich das heutige Datum in Erinnerung zu rufen.
Siebzehnter April - Null Acht.
Oh, oh!
Nur um zu überprüfen, ob mir noch genug Zeit zum Händewaschen verbleiben würde, warf ich einen Blick auf die Uhr:
12:01
Oh, oh!
Kalter Schweiß rann mir den Rücken hinab. Die Haut auf meinen verkrampften Knöcheln bildete weiße Flecken.
Hätte ich jetzt doch nur ein Brett mit einen rostigen Nagel.
Auf der Suche nach einem Halt, klammere ich mich am Wasserhahn fest. Der Seifenspender spendete mir neben Trost auch etwas Waschlotion.
Wenn ich jetzt noch die Papierhandtücher erreiche, ohne in Panik zu geraten, könnte ich diese Situation überleben.
Mit trockenen Händen, sämtliche Fluchtreflexe unterdrückend (ich möchte ja keines der Seminare stören) arbeite ich mich zum Seminarraum vor.
Auf dem Gang ist es ruhig.
Ich öffne die Tür, gehe an meinen Platz, und mit der Wand im Rücken kann ich mich endlich wieder sicher fühlen.
Überlebt!
Puhh, war ganz schön knapp.

Drei Esel

Die Sonne, die Steppe, die staubige Straße.
Auf dieser wandern ein Großvater und sein Enkel entlang.
Der Kleine reitet auf des Großvaters Esel.
Von Weitem kommen den beiden zwei Wanderer entgegen.
Als diese näher kommen, grüßen sie den Großvater:
"Salam aleykum."
Sich zu dem Jungen wendend meinen sie:
"Schämst du dich gar nicht? Du mit zwei kräftigen, jungen Beinen reitest auf dem Esel und lässt deinen gebrechlichen Großvater laufen?"
Daraufhin steigt der Junge vom Esel herab und lässt den Großvater aufsitzen.
Die Sonne, die Steppe, die staubige Straße.
Nach einem weiteren Stück des Weges begegnen ihnen erneut zwei Wanderer.
"Salam aleykum." grüßen sie den Großvater.
"Schämen sie sich nicht? Sie reiten und das Kind muss auf der staubigen Straße laufen?"
Daraufhin sagt der Großvater:
"Mein Junge, die beiden Wanderer haben wohl recht, setz dich nur hinter mich."
Die Sonne, die Steppe, die staubige Straße.
So reiten sie gemeinsam ihres Weges, als ihnen wiederum zwei Wanderer entgegen kommen.
"Salam aleykum." grüßen sie.
"Schande über euch! Schämt ihr euch nicht? Zwei gesunde Menschen mit vier Beinen sitzen auf einem armen, alten Esel."
Daraufhin steigen der Großvater und sein Enkel vom Rücken des Esels herab.

Den Rest des Weges tragen sie das Tier.
Die Sonne, die Steppe, die staubige Straße.

Babylon

Last summer myself and some friends of mine went to France, doing kind of a roadtrip.
We took our bikes with us, our destination was a small village near Besancon in the heart of the french alpes.
Four guys, four bikes.
But only one of us spoke the local tongue - me.
So I had the joy of telling our warden, a nice old lady, what we wanted.
I spoke to the little granny and translated it to my mates.
They answered me - in our German dialect.
So I told that lady "oui" when my friends answered me with a short "nu" which means "yes" in our dialect.
She seemed more and more confused.
She asked me, if I had translated everything properly.

All of sudden I realized what was happening:
I had to laugh. Our warden heart "non" (french: "no") when my friends say "nu".
Poor old lady.

Thirteen days a week (1)

At the weekends I enjoy going out for parties. I´m not talking about this "come-around-have-a-beer"-kind of parties. I mean going to clubs, have a nice time and listen to some music.

During the Easter-days I went home to see my family (so I told them) and maybe (what I really expected to do) going to the clubs. I came to Dresden and had to do all this boring holiday-family-stuff. Saturday after dinner I went to a mate of mine, just to get in the right mood. The club we´ve chosen for this night usually opens at 11.00pm, so it would be ridiculous to come around till 1.00am. Due to the fact the none of us had a valid drivers-license we had to catch the train.

At the trainstation we went to a BurgerKing to get some coffee and burgers. After our midnight-meal we bought a beer and had to hurry to catch the tram.
We missed it. So we had to wait.



We were standing around, when this guy came up to us. I was realizing: Oh my friend, you took too much from the white powder.
This guy, maybe 27 or 28 stood in front of us and asked: "Wo hier Party?!"
Due to I am kind and pretty communicative I told him with a smile:

"Im Kindergarten hat man uns beigebracht, im ganzen Satz zu sprechen."
I don´t think, that my answer really satisfied him. He started yelling at me and get kind of aggressive. He kept a bottle in his hand and I didn´t want to get some glass in my face, so we tried to calm him down. But he was still aggressive, yelled, tried to push us away.
After a while he put the bottle down and I kicked it out of his hand. I don´t wanted to provoke him. But I didn´t want him to get in trouble.

It is to be said that you can turn your back to a man,
but you never should turn your back to a drug.



We tried to get this situation controlled. All of sudden our drug-influenced friend held a small bottle of "Bionade" in his hand. Damn, not again! We stand close to the street, so I tried to get away from it, just in case this guy freaks out. I get away from the street, and again we attempt to calm him down. This prick was still yelling and moving like a Duracell-Rabbit. We talked to him, very nice, just to get out of this uncomfortable situation.
It didn´t take more than two minutes. I kept thinking all the time: if I get a cut or a black eye I couldn´t show up at the party. This were my only concerns. Our victim suddenly tried to give me a punch with his head. I could avoid him and pushed this unfriendly opponent away. Fortuneately some friends of mine came by and started talking to that guy, to get me out of this whole thing. Finally our tram came and we went to the club. This drug-victim too. I had a little chat with the bouncer, a mate of mine, and told him to have a look on this prick.


It was still pretty early this night, so I went to the bar to get another beer.
There I met two friends of mine. Friends I never had expected at this club, because either they only listen to HipHop or they never leave their desk to go out.
I had to tell them the story, I didn´t even finish, this bastard was sneaking around the club. I didn´t care. It seemed, that he calmed down.



This party we went to, was an anniversary-party of a local drum-and-bass-website.
During the past weeks, you could vote for one out of ten DJs. They didn´t mention the DJs names, there were only ten sets with five records each. The winning DJs had to play these records during their sets at this evening. My favourites weren´t choosen.
The mainact, e-decay from Manheim, had been the only "artist" with a name on the flyer.
Oh! Flyer! If you made the flyer to a little skulpture,
you would get a surprisingly surprising surprise - a muffin.
But hey! They were delicious, with a nice smiley on it.
Due to democracy failed again, the music was kind of jungle mixed up with some drum-and-bass records. But we didn´t get bored, because there were many friends of mine and so we had lots of fun.



Something is still in my mind. One of my friends, a nice girl, has a boyfriend, who is an complete idiot. We were at the same primary-school, I know what I´m talking about.
His elder brother, a mate of mine too, also wanted this girl some months ago.
After two beers, I thought it was a good idea to visit the local facilities. The men´s room.
Therein, all of sudden I heard this girl saying:
"Nein, ich kann das hier irgendwie nicht"
and this guy started discussing with her, at the men´s room. I almost had to laugh my ass of.
As I mentioned, I am pretty communicative, so immediately I had to tell it everybody.
The poor girl. During the evening it was a running-gag telling her:
"Hey, Ich kann das hier irgendwie nicht".
She was seriously pissed of, and since this night, she don´t talk to me anymore.
I´ve pity on her, but I think it was worth it.


The hours went by and the pretty DJane finished her jungle-set.
This drug-victim from the early evening was slacking. He sat in a corner. What a fucked-up party-night! Taking drugs, getting on my nerves, going to a club and...NOTHING. What a loser.

Next DJ! Yeeha! After all this lame 160bpm-stuff we wanted it faster, harder, better, stronger. We shouldn´t get dissapointed. Five o´clock, at last all the good records. Now the party gets started. My Dresden-mates were freaking out. A yelling, jumping, "dancing" mob on the floor, no time to breathe, or to get a RedBull or anything like that.
In my point of view THIS is my paradise.
I went to partys in Berlin, Prag, Rotterdam, Hamburg, Bern, Leipzig and some other places. NOWHERE the crowd is partying like here. Once in Berlin they asked us: "Hey, wie macht ihr das?! Wie könnt ihr nur so abgehen?!"

When we left the club it was already light outside. Snowflakes were falling. I never before left a party while it was light and snowing at the same time. A new impression. The snow covered all the dirt and broken glass. Everything were peaceful.
A virgin day.

I didn´t want my parents to see me exhausted after party, besides I wanted to travel to Nürnberg the same day. So I planed to get home to Leipzig after party. My luggage was still at the trainstation. So I had to hurry to catch the second train home. Me and most of my friends went to the Tram-Stop and still had some fun in the tram.
I get my luggage, bought a coffee and a sunday-newspaper and went to the train, where I fell asleep.
At 9.00 am I arrived at Leipzig CentralStation, thirty minutes later at home.
I fed my cat, took a shower and went to bed.
Only two hours later, one of my flat-mates woke me up, yelling: "Hey Jo! Lass uns Frühstücken gehen".
I would have hurt him pretty seriously, if I hadn´t been so tired.

Coming up next, the same stuff in Leipzig

The pathway of emotions

How do we know, wether god or the devil is the good one?
We couldn´t care less. It´s a classic synonym for the contrast.

If god is the good guy, and the devil the bad one, what is god thinking about the devil?
He must be pretty unhappy about the devils works. It grieves him to see the enormous contrasts of right and wrong.

God is unhappy, when he´s talking about the devil. This is clear an understandable to all of us.

But what about the devil? Isn´t he also concerned by big feelings when he looks at gods works? Doesn´t he get sick, if he sees all the good?

Telling the devil: "Be a nice guy" would be as difficult as telling god to be bad.

What I want to say: the emotional pathway is as hard and difficult for god as it is for the devil. So, wether god is taking the devils way, or the devil´s taking gods way, both are feeling bad in a similar manner.

In the near future of the absolute equality of gender there will be at last only the emotional difference.
The human evaluation for that is going to be "god" or "devil".
But it´s important to recognize: the devil never had a chance to take the hard and difficult path.

So ladies, it´s about time, that he gets his chance.



The same stuff in German:

Der reziproke Weg der Emotion

Woher wissen wir, ob Gott oder der Teufel der Böse ist? Eigentlich auch egal. Als Synonym für den Gegensatz jedenfalls ein klassisches Beispiel.

Wenn Gott der Gute ist und der Teufel der Böse, was muss dann Gott über den Teufel denken? Er wird über des Teufels Werk sehr unglücklich sein, und große Trauer empfinden über die unglaublichen Gegensätze von Richtig und Falsch.

Gott ist unglücklich, wenn er über den Teufel spricht. Das ist jedem von uns klar und auch ohne weiteres nachzuvollziehen.

Aber was ist nun mit dem Teufel? Muss nicht auch er von großen Gefühlen ergriffen sein, wenn er Gottes Werk betrachtet? Muss sich dem Teufel nicht der Magen umdrehen, wenn er soviel Gutes sieht?

Dem Teufel zu sagen: "Sei doch einfach nett", würde genauso schwierig sein, wie Gott zu sagen, er solle böse werden.

Was ich damit sagen will: der emotionale Weg ist gleich steinig und gleich lang und das aus beiden Richtungen. Also, ob Gott den Weg des Teufels beschreitet oder der Teufel Gottes Weg, beide fühlen sich dabei gleich schlecht.

In der nahen Zukunft von der absoluten Gleichstellung der Geschlechter wird es letztlich nur noch den emotionalen Unterschied geben.
Die menschliche Wertung dafür wird "Gott" oder "Teufel" sein.
Wichtig ist nur zu verstehen, dass der Teufel nie eine Chance hatte, den steinigen und langen Weg zu gehen.

Also Mädels aufgepasst, es wird Zeit, dass er sie bekommt, diese Chance.


"big kahoona"