|
|
| The magical evening hour: day light softly fades away. All these wonderful green colours of the grassland, the mountain forest, the last snow fields, the sparkling flowers, all these colours turn first into light grey, then into dark grey and at around 10.00 p.m. the night is black. Three hours from my desktop in the job the highways bring me in Nobydick to Brixen. The highway passes at the side of the river Inn in the valley. There you can enjoy a delightful view over the capital of Tirol: Innsbruck. From Innsbruck climbs the highway up the Brenner pass, all four lines trucks, busses, cars, motorbikes drive up and down 24/7 to 1371 Meters. On the top Austria borders to Italy. Tourists enjoy the wonderful way with astonished delight for eight Euros one way. The people in the narrow Brenner valley suffer from traffic overload, the never ending rustle of running wheels and the air pollution. In three hours the voyage is done. Nobydick parks in a dead end valley, surrounded by three houses, an elementary school for German Kids, few calf, a dog, a cat, a coq with some hens and a little church: St Leonhard. The origin of this church - like so many buildings in Europe - root back to the year 1000. A history brochure of this church is for sale. |
|
| In this church my colleague Jan celebrates tomorrow his marriage. His wife lives and works here in Brixen. Brixen belongs to Italy, but many people here speak German since generations. Beside the St. Leonhard Church is a elementary school for German children. I suppose, in this school kids speak their mother tongue more eloquently than kids in several big German towns, where in some schools 90 % of the children are not brought up by German parents. As far I feel, the pressure in the cities is growing and growing. The contrast is extreme: here around the church St. Leonard crickets fill the silence. Seldom an aeroplane engine hums. St. Leonhard is 1096 Meters above sea, 500 Meters above Brixen. The distance wipes out the traffic noise. Away from all people my life is best balanced in harmony. Sometimes. News in the paper or in the radio? I don't care. Lights glitter in the valley from Brixen, my reality TV in the moment. Peace in me and around, when I wander alone. Sometimes. Mimamai had no courage for another voyage. |
|
| News e. g. report the unemployment rate about five millions in Germany. Mimamai fights to find a new job. Coming week the next customer will inspire Nobydick for sale. Mimamai doesn't want me to sell the rolling home, because she has no work. She breeds Angst. An example: her boss gave double money, more than 300 Euro to much. Next morning Mima finds the error, phones her boss, clears up the fault. Her boss just says o.k. Now Mima is in Angst again: ''Maybe he thinks, because I did not recognize immediately his mistake, he may think, my skills are not good enough, to sell in his shop'', she ponders. So Mimamai works in his shop on Saturday and has no courage, to accompany my little voyage. Carefully nearly daily she searches in the Computer of the governmental working agency for open jobs. When she still had work all years before, she always claimed with certainty, that everyone will find a job, who wants to find one. Her praxis these days looks different from her theories before. Now she searches continuously and doesn't find anything. She feels tense, maybe a bit unworthy. And she can't change it, even she tries hard. My fingers mix facts with fantasies inspired by precious red wine from last week end voyage to the wine cellars of Hammelburg - Mutton Castle. |
|
| Three hours from Munich Italian life style start. Three days voyage from every European city you reach to the Oceans, to Russia or Asia. Europe is a overpopulated paradise without earth quakes, tsunamis, murderous ghettos. Nevertheless the tension in people, special in big cities, increases. Conflicts come closer. Third world people dream of the European paradise as land filled with streams of milk, money and honey. Dream land under attack: things come with shorter supply: work, water, air, energy, land and food. Mima has to inspect her 10 years old VW transporter, her ''Blue Whale'', she uses for her Christmas Market. All cars have to pass this examination every two years. We have used her car for many summer journeys. We can use her Blue Whale again for this. One thing I'm quite sure about: the world is beautiful, wherever I am - under one condition only: I have to feel beautiful myself, to feel others in the same way. Yesterday evening I watched one of these CDs from the Computer magazine, a film of Stephen King: horror, murder, violence. This kind of entertainment is not useful on my voyages. I wander around the church St. Leonard, wash myself in a mountain cold brook, my senses tune into nature. This nature with the soft mountain rounds, the changing colours, the clouds soaring down from the top of the hill, this nature inflames lust for life: A tender feeling of loving and longing, a melting into existence, into a love stream - BAH: nothing can be written form this magical mystery - except Blablabla! Nevertheless it's a feeling, like angels dance around and inside, to send me into a night of fulfilled happiness. |
|
| Sunday! The marriage on Saturday I survived somehow. The worst brainwash slime hypnosis I suffered in the church ceremony more than one hour: from 2.00 p.m on. The beautiful bride and her proud possession for the coming decades of surrender and service have prepared weeks for their rehearsal in the ceremony. People function like puppets according to traditional expectation and conditioning of centuries hypnotic authority in the name of one illusion: God! Priests in power slaughter this God illusion for marketing and power purpose and willingly people play puppets. Everyone expects political advantage from empty formulas neither felt nor experienced inside. The church show must go on! Both partners caught in desire of bio chemical processes, they mistake for love. The priest blackmails these poor victims, to lie about honest service a life long. Choked by this biochemical chain around the neck of both genders the poor hot husband hangs his tongue out with running saliva in night delight wish fulfilling desires, meanwhile the bride in her meters of long egg cream coloured robe is forced by her bio chemical task force to kneel on her heels in front of a wonderful two years old baby boy. Nature inspires her fertilisation dreams, she can't hardly await to reproduce herself. My poor colleagues, three other marriage victims more beside the fresh imprisoned husband, all men work like robots of their reproductive Mama-Boss, caring for two kids, little ones, one after an other in short distance. I know, what I'm talking about: I do the same thing. |
|
| These mothers with about 10 orders per minute manage the crisis
of their breed - husband included. The genetically torture can be symbolized by
a big iron ball on rattling chains around the feet of both partners, man and woman. Only children still run free, more and more under parental pressure in conditioning and convictions. Generations inherit this sick pain. This best breeding expectations for new church- and government tax payers is bribed with wine and bio chemical stress reduction in night sweating fights. The priest blesses them with an imbecile, infernality smile. The priest knows deep in his unconscious about this devilish slavery torture - till one infernal solution, either collective war, individual suicide or severe sickness. At least the poor husband has already in his young years fight successful severe tumour sickness. There is one hope left for him, that existence opens up the window a little bit, to look in an other opposite reality. From there looking back in the theatric rehearsal of power playing money grabbing for generations of warriors in work or war, heroes in suffering and self destruction, from an other reality looking back, maybe an emergency exit shows up. Maybe, when existence sends mercy, to change by and by the power of hypnotic brainwash in conditioned prison. The chance after such kind of marriage with nearly 100 people stumbling like Hamster in their wheels shrinks. |
|
| The poor couple has to be caught in this bio chemical trap! The young woman burning for fertilisation smells out this man's genes suitable for her instincts to reproduce herself. The young man burns, to balance his bio chemical chaos in night delight sweat stress reduction. So the misery is bound to begin and has to be continued! The slim bride, smart and shining, has studied languages, travelled with him in big cities like Rom, Berlin and Munich, the young man has a natural talent to accept smiling even controversies. Now he offers his leaving life and years, to serve society ruled by her biological breeding process for the next 10, 20, 30 years. The program starts, the priest kicks smiling both in their ass in a ceremony of hallow hallucination and dumb drunkenness, the food feast continues after the priest has offered some cannibalistic flesh and blood in one other central ceremony of superstition. The food program for the next hours will wipe out all doubts about decades of home imprisoned breeding torture. Precious wine and dishes, games of growing kids garden entertain us happy people without wasting any sad thought The collective cream applauds all these immense efforts, the priest, the visitors, the relatives. Everyone feels flattered and honoured and old people look back behind in their years of slavery, troubles forgotten in red rose light dreams - like husband and bride hold on to this illusion. |
|
| Somehow I understand my reasons, that I had to wait 57 years, till my tense nerves can stand such theatric turmoil without breaking the rules! Everyone in such festival expects from the other one this slime smile mask continuously. Both fresh married partners have to pay for their ego demonstrative powerful presentation the next coming years, I guess. When his bio chemical pressure fades away to follow her female attraction with saliva running from his red hanging tongue than the economical pressure forges another steel prison bar, to hold this poor male dog on the short chain of his Mistress Master. Good Luck! Drunken enough to calm down my tension in order to hide these thoughts from the hypnotized collective chain gang late in the night I escape in silence without any good bye. Nobydick, the motor home, stands askew on the parking place, reserved for the honoured feast society, who have booked as guests a night in the hotel. I don't care. With a prey of a role toilet paper, I couldn't buy in my morning walk down to Brixen town in the valley, I suddenly fall asleep. The scene has inflamed again some of my old biological chemical processes, so my dreams are enriched by two women of my acquaintanceship, who play with my longing pulling my life on a string like kids play with the toy jumping jack. |
|
| The day light consciousness alarms with the biological song program of the early morning birds around. All muscles and cells force my body to leave the upper bed in the car, a glimpse on the watch: 5.23 a.m. At 5.26, three minutes later, the humming sound of the engine brings me back to my senses, back on the road again. More than half an hour in the second gear the car climbs up into the wonderful mountain world, the wild freedom of a wanderer in fulfilled solitude. Happy to have left Mima at home in her job! The Christian hypnosis engraved names in the small collection of little houses around chapels on my way up: St. Leonhard (1096), the priest program, St. Andrea (961), the feast program, towards St. Jakob (1336), St. Georg (1503), Palm Castle (1697) as representation of Governmental Power, finally on the top parking spot: Cross Valley, Valcroce 2000 Meters high - for my beast program. Happy alone, Swallows dance around the car, the oven heats up inside over 20 degrees, outside under 10 degree Celsius, two coffee pots accelerate my heart beat and my feet and body burn to explore this wonderful world of mysteries which such a sky full freedom above, that most people only can stand such overflowing luxury in prison cells like marriages. It took my last 57 years, to recognize this simple truth of mine. |
|
| My fantasies entertain myself a couple of hours, my walk up to the Mount Telegraph (2468) exercises my muscles and mind for the next hours, till I return exhausted to my motor home. I take a Dolomite douche outside the car, prepare my simple soup, fall asleep half an hour, examine once again these lines, cook coffee again and finish my meal with chocolate from the fridge.
|
|
| My third night on the road changes my energy. Is my bio chemical process deeply disturbed? Are offended ghosts of the husband and bride, of al these religious decent people hunting me? Basic shelter is missing. The 2000 Meters above sea Dolomite parking place provides no peace anymore. Cold rains fall down. One hour slow driving in the second gear down to the valley doesn't offer any other sheltered place for the night. I miss shelter inside. Brixen shows up with a quite comfortable place beside the River Eisack, but after a short time in this warm air downtown after the mountain heights I have to leave. A crowded camping place outside Brixen charges 17 Euro for one night, not my place to stay. The Brenner highway brings me up to Sterzing, where a huge auto camp invites trucks, cars and motor homes. 10 Euros for one night camping drivers pay, truck drivers 6 Euros. |
|
| Other motor homes stand beside the trucks. In this sheltered but loud environment I sleep in the humming sound of trucks, who cool all night long their load. Less sleep in the cold night under 10 degrees Celsius. The oven heats my room. One coffee, one juice before 5.00 a.m. are enough, to wake up and leave. The old Brenner road is free of charge. The weather forecast announces snow below 1500 Meters height. Tirol in Austria has colder climate than South Tirol in Italy, much colder. But the old Brenner road is empty to slither softly one serpent after an other down to Innsbruck. From the highway access Innsbruck South cars don't need to pay except the usual highway tax in Austria, 21,80 Euros for two monthes. |
|
| My money bag fills up with these voyage bills, while cash is emptied. The gap of unsheltered shivering inside - I guess - roots in my missing feelings of my other, my better part, my little woman Mimamai. Since nearly two hours on the road, she rings me up at the Austrian-German border: ''Wake up, stand up, come home to me!'' ''Uhh'', I think inside, ''how I have missed my female caring and orders! I can't live without them!'' Grumbling I murmur, that I need first a sauna bath at the Lake Kochel in Bavaria. I drive in the middle of rains and clouds. The radio reports: ''To cold for this time of the year.'' Exhausted and tired I sleep the first hour in the sauna bath at the Lake Kochel, where I watch the clouds climbing around the mountain Herzogstand. Recovered I am happy, to come home in her arms. Voluntary I will carry on my bio chemical chains, to serve my woman in good and bad days. Hasn't the priest in the ceremony asked something else? Here I have to stop, otherwise the theoretical preaching inflames my febrile fingers for more restless ranting. |
|
