Mima's Father 80th Birthday

Strange mood in spring time. Growing older year by year, getting tired more and more of each and everything: women, quarrels, luxuries, voyages, books, adventures.

Closing my eyes the Inner Cinema starts. There are periods sometimes, when most movies are sad. Similar experiences inside outside. Newspapers report similar horrifying stories like e-groups.

People come, people leave. Names changes, energy remains the same. Sharing for fun seems not possible. Sharing controversies seems not possible. Sharing flatteries seems not possible. Sharing seems not possible. So what? Silence remains.

Mimamai has exercised since last summer, to reach to the qualifications, to pass a life-saving certificate. She had felt, that all the simple jobs will be wiped out this year.

Twice Mimamai failed one practical part in her examination for life-saving. Mimamai is not strong enough, to pull out a guy from Michael-Kabir's size and weight of 100 Kilograms out of the water.

Mimamai found another life-saving-teacher, who tells, that she is strong enough to pass the examination. He trains Mimamai. Mimamai gets her certificate.

Her boss in the Munich bath personal management has encouraged Mimamai: ''I don't care, who signs your life-saving-certificate, just bring your certificate.''


Sharing controversies seems not possible.

 

Two weeks ago Mima sends her certificate. But she doesn't get the summer job. Mimamai tries four other alternatives. Till now she has no success.

For my feeling life is burdened day by day with more and more difficulties. Controversies in sharing, in relationships fade away, because I stop sharing and relating to anyone anymore. The result: controversies grow stranger and stronger in reality.

The government plans to charge around 300 more percent taxes for motor homes. I try to sell nobydick. Mima and I are on the road since Friday afternoon again in nobydick, the Volkswagen Bus motor home.

I invite my daughter and her friend in Nuremberg for dinner. My daughter has soaked her mind with ''positive'' thoughts from ''positive'' books. Her lessons about life smell like this. Unfortunately my body-mind-heart-belly-system reacts almost allergic against ''New-Age-Holy-Hallelujah''. Even I have stopped to comment in our n0by gathering anyone, who enjoys his/her enlightened or therapeutic advices. Peace keepers of other gatherings almost censor my comments - even in forum of news-magazine like SPIEGEL.


Strange mood in spring time.


I invite my daughter and her friend in Nuremberg for dinner.
First time in life I enjoy long TV hours. Criminal films catch my attention. Western warriors ride and shoot in silent fights. These film-heros finish life in a dead end road. That stuff mirrors my reality.

Hundred hours of phone- and life-talks with people like Sweeti Veeti or Michael-Kabir have come to an end. 

Some silent hours my mind dances like a butterfly in sunny hours, in other times my mood feels captured in iron chains. There is no instance inside, that can deliver any reasonable explanation.

One fact is sure: these grumpy noisy weird wisdom of Michael-Kabir makes me smile again and again, whenever he writes.

Others I don't even read anymore. Very seldom my virtual voyage dives back into my web-archiv, to remember places, phases and feelings gone long ago.

Mima's father celebrates his 80th birthday. 20 years more than Michael-Kabir this year.


Mima's father celebrates his 80th birthday.

Bamberg Spring slide show

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