[055] rebellious music

(autumn evening. single-family house surrounded by nature. daddy and daughter on the corridor. loud music played in her room)

daddy: “i’m curious what music you’ll be listening to when you hit puberty!”

daughter: “i already did… girls usually do at the age of 11 and i am 12!”

daddy: “in your puberty, you’ll listen to music that clearly separates you from the oh so boring adults!”

daughter: “i don’t know any adults listening to sunrise avenue and ariana grande!”

daddy: “no, no. the music i am talking about won’t even be called ‘music’ by the adults!”

daughter: “if so, when does your puberty end?”

 

in a couple of weeks she’ll turn 13… the party just started i guess.

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[055] rebellious music

[053] fatrick’s wisdom

“you know” fatrick said, “every random group of people contains a certain percentage of morons – some higher, some lower, never zero. every random group. astronauts, whale watchers, immigrants, flamenco lovers, inuit, vegetarians, argentinians, christians, homosexuals, geography teachers, homosexual geography teachers, buick drivers…”. “i think i got it!”, i interrupted. he looked me in the eyes for a second, then he started grinning mechanically, nodded in satisfaction and continued.

“in return, every random group of people contains a certain percentage of cool guys – some higher, some lower, never zero. astronauts, whale watchers…”. while he continued his mantra he put his hand into the sore depth of his massive triple chin, covered it in a disgusting mix of sweat, aged sebum and burger sauce and splattered all on the back of a young mother pushing a bram. she didn’t notice, turned the corner and i faced fatrick again. “homosexuals” he muttered, “geography teachers, homosexual geography teachers, buick drivers”. “so, the racists are wrong”, i went.

“very wrong”, fatrick replied, looking at his balloon hand drying in the afternoon sun. he was right, i thought later. seyfried swears by this guy.

[053] fatrick’s wisdom

[052] a guy who… part 1

i am a guy who…

  1. stands outside the vinyl store at berwick street, listening to the beats played inside, talking to the dude with yellow teeth, a strong smell of old sweat and a fancy basecap. about freshest drum and bass. dude is smoking. in this very moment your personal opinion is way more interesting to me than all the experts combined, i say. and i mean it.
  2.  sits on a deer stand at the edge of the forest, reading field post from a german wehrmacht soldier who was deployed in norway, writing to his family about nothing happening. six pieces of this 1942/43 one way correspondence, bought at unobtrusive flea market.
  3. has unread items in his “sent” box.
  4. lies on the cold stairs in the dark staircase of this anonymous apartment-house, waiting, reading leisegang, illuminated by the mobile screen, too lazy to get up and turn the lights on, all too comfortable in this bucket of circumstances. soon to be spoiled anyway by the appearance of a faceless inhabitant.
  5. wants to breathe under water. even tried it a couple of times. still wants to wake up as drexciyan branchiate creature one day.
  6. sits on the toilet seat for half an hour trying to figure out whether the rhythm in which the broken bulb above the mirror is flickering is aleatoric or follows some sophisticated system. when the big dances are danced.
  7. uses the slowest car on the longest track for intensified virtual meditation. future is retro. the next few meters are pixelated.
  8. wants to fight nature’s disquietude of colors and capriciousness of forms with the syntheticst possible music. and enjoys the failure.
  9. was the kid that threw a stone at the old grandfather clock he found at the backside of a weathered cabin in the woods, hit the clockface, made the clockhands stop moving and, by that, caused a rain of dead birds.
  10. uses a random shot of a bull’s head because yeah… a tray full of snap shots in the off-context era.

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[052] a guy who… part 1

[047] salad oil 718

most of my instagram shots are containing special memories and stuff what’s naturally not visible for the viewer. it’s just more of a personal thing, let’s call it a clandestine value… treasure chest. but due to the fact that most uploads look kind of cute you’re still free to like them. several times already i asked myself whether or not to tell the story behind the picture (since its a picture, it’s not able to tell the story by itself). but yeah, i postponed that… to today. this particular shot stands for a ton of different things all in one. a variety of mixed (even contradictory in parts) emotions. at least it feels like this…

what it actually is:

it’s a snippet of an advertisement poster for salad oil, done by a guy named jan toorop back in 1894 (i know what this sounds like! but it’s a damn fact. not making this up!). the entire thing can be seen here: rijksmuseum.nl. and since it’s public domain i made a tiny glitched edition.

what it stands for:

this phase of life where everything appears vague, supercomplex and dynamic – but in the big picture, the whole show feels like it’s slowing down, approaching the ultimate stagnation point, the glorious standstill. it’s not the first time i’m experiencing this but it’s the first time i share this with somebody… while listening to the cranberries in a loop.

and here it is, symbolizing truly special days while describing them best:

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http://instagram.com/le_phu2

[047] salad oil 718