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wLOG_0A
So the health crisis provoqued by the novel coronavirus has indeed prevented me from my intention to blog on a regular weekly basis as I have already missed writing on two weekends. But then I read Amanda Palmer’s call on Patreon this morning and with then already around 400 comments I sat down to answer the following questions: where you are? city? country? how long you’ve been in lockdown? what are the rules? are they…
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Episode VIII
Last weekend I missed writing to my blog. Actually I had not planned to publish a blog post on a regular basis every weekend when I resumed writing at the beginning of January this year. As I wanted to write about the podcasts I like listening to I managed to keep posting continuously on a weekly basis about several podcasting topics before later starting to write about other topics, too. By then, weekly blogging had…
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log out
At the beginning of last year I deactivated my Facebook account. The information that I got flushed in my timeline just sucked most of the time. I had already quit commenting on a regular basis but daily kept flicking through the posts inside the filter bubble the algorithm had progressively built like an invisible shield around my account. The only solution to get rid of this unhealthy habit and stay away from the Social Network…
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anesthetized
Heading down the motorway to the place where rhythm and vibes emerge from the bowels of a red monolith, you think about the urge to fill the empty spaces in heart and mind with music and lyrics. You seem to be stuck in a communication cul-de-sac too narrow to turn around and without reverse gear on your vehicle. The only way out would be up to the meta level from where the outlook is different.…
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dark thoughts
You relive the past, live. The music invites you to dwell, visual anachronisms blur the experience. You got to be crazy, who was dragged down by the stone? Animals have always played an important part in your life. Your mind has darkened, the only color you see is ebony. Tears have flowed, tears will flow. Separation anxiety is the wind that blows around the sword of Damocles that hangs above your head. At the gates…
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coldrain
at the sound of the bell you return home. your clothes are soaked, cold raindrops run down your face. they fall like needles just to merge into the rill on the ground heading towards the river. your fingers clutching the cold torch feel like steel, your frosty feet are like a gate to coldness. if only those tears could flow to give your cheeks the warmth they are yearning for so long. (Foto: cc by…
"And the meek shall inherit the earth."
