The Power of Music

Music. I listen to it a whole damn lot. It takes me places I can’t get to alone. It transports me. It makes me laugh and cry, it makes me curse humanity and revel in love. It puts me in a state of absolute tension, it relaxes me to the point of sleep. It tells me tales I’ll never understand rationally, but I know I understand. It massages my soul, and it stirs my intellect. It’s so raw it hurts, and it goes down smooth, like the best malt whiskey. I don’t know of anything on this world that balls so many irreconcilable opposites together, often enough in a single song that just plain hits my nerve.


Have Some Fun

It’s later than you think. Soon you will die, oh so soon. It’s just a matter of years. Those little short years, you’ve surely noticed how fast they go? So have some fun, live it full, tell your love that you are hers, or his, as the case may be. Fill your cup to the brim, because it may be your last.
We all have to go some time. A man I know is about to go. He ain’t all that old, but hell, cancer sits in ’im, and he has to go. He’s not the first I’ve seen go. Good people… they go just as fast as the bad, if not faster. Will I be there, at the burial? No, but I’ll honor him in any case, in my way.
So, you get older, and you notice how people die. People you know. Whether it’s the people you look up to, the mentors, or people you got to know in passing… they all go. A few of them are left, and at some point you start to wonder when you are next, when you are the one they knew who went down.
That’s life. That’s normal. Life is death is life is death… and we are all made of stardust. There is no life that wasn’t made of death. The atoms of which you are made are recycled. Nature doesn’t waste a single fucking one of them. You are a mouse, a stone, a star, a bloody fucking porcupine. A part of you is a bird, that flew so far and wide. A part of you is lava, that was thrown so high… perhaps, at one point, you traveled, as a little stone, from deep in the earth, over thousands of years, to the surface of this beautiful planet. Or you were the stratosphere. You were air. Does it matter?
So there is nothing to complain about. You will die, as you have died before, a thousand times, in one form or another, whether you were inanimate or not. This is not religion, you little fuck, this is nature. The atoms you are made of are (nearly) indestructible. And, even if I could destroy the atoms you are made of, the atoms are made of something else, smaller yet, which can not be destroyed.
So you are a beautiful creation, indestructible. You had to be. But you are a part of the whole. You are indestructible only in the absolute, natural sense. Nature will reorganize you, will use you, will disperse you according to „her“ stochastical „needs“.
Why is nature female? Because she is the source of life. There are animals which do not rely on females to produce offspring, but human beings do. So for us, feeling, living, squirming little animals that we are, life and the creation of life is inevitably a female thing.
As a man, I am in awe of women. Not all of them, I’ll admit. There are some I could dispense with entirely. But then, I can say the same of men. But I digress, as so often. What I wanted to say is: I worship women because they can brew life. They bake babies, and that is insanely wonderful and definitely worth envying. It is amazing. It throws me for a loop, dammit, it shoves me off the stool on to the floor… I sit there on my ass and am amazed. Amazed. It’s insane, this ability, it’s like: KAZAM! Crazy. Impossible. Something out of a nutty science-fiction novel. And women can do it, just like that, like nothing. They don’t even have to try. I know that they couldn’t do it without men to inseminate them, but nevertheless… I’ve seen a woman give birth; I saw my son come out, so I know what the hell I am talking about. The simple fact that women can produce babies sets them on a higher level in my eyes. It makes them worthy of worship.
Too bad I have no female to worship at the moment.


Somebody recently mailed me a cartoon. The essence of it was that the founding fathers of the United States of America are all signing the Bill of Rights, and one is saying to the other, „Are you sure they’ll understand that we mean this ironically?“ Wham.
Irony is so often misunderstood. Especially self-irony, delivered deadpan. You can say the most unbelievable things of yourself… and they will be believed as long as you don’t batt an eyelash in the telling. People will sort of blink, and think to themselves… geez, I never realized he was such a bastard, or, gosh, what a sensitive guy. You can see it in their eyes, you can sense it in the infinitesimal delay before they reply with some commonplace.
I know this from personal experience. I’ve made so many jokes about myself… and no one bloody gets it. Almost never. Just call me old poker-face. I should have been an actor. I’ll say things that I consider completely off-the-wall… and people take it for real coin. I expect them to laugh and say, yeah sure, you’re just pulling my leg, you can’t possibly mean that… but no.
Maybe I should tell the simple truth for a change? That’d fool ’em even worse. They wouldn’t believe a single fucking word.
Listening to Are You With Me? From Jaya the Cat.


Refusal to comply. That is what this German word translates to in English. I am always fascinated when single words aren’t directly translatable in another language, but rather have to be described in several words. It makes me wonder if the people speaking these different languages actually think differently. The fact that there is a single succinct word for refusal to comply in German makes me wonder why the Germans were so susceptible to Fascism, why they had such a penchant to compliance. On the other hand the Germans have a tendency to combine several words in to one single word, so what the hell, it probably doesn’t mean a damn thing, in the philosophical sense. We have the Germans language to thank for the word Donaudampfschifffahrtselektrizitätenhauptbetriebswerkbauunterbeamtengesellschaft. How’s that for a word?
But that’s not actually what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to talk about Weigerungshaltung: refusal to comply. History has shown that refusal to comply, if it is done by enough people and consistently enough, is far more powerful that any other form of resistance, political or otherwise. So organize, refuse to comply, and do not waver, do not obey. As good old Winston said: “Never give in, never give in, never; never; never; never – in nothing, great or small, large or petty – never give in except to convictions of honor and good sense.”
Listening to Memories of Prof. Longhair by Dr. John. How’s that for a non-sequitur?