I need the freedom to run when I choose to

if you want to feel miserable and ruin your day, there is one sure thing to accomplish that in no time: ride an escalator in this city.

imagine this:
you are in a hurry. you are pretty sure that the particular cd you want to purchase is not only unavailable in this city's record store, but furthermore totally unknown to the skin irritated gel boy at the counter, anyway. still, you try. you hope. it's been twelve times, but still, you hope. you know you have to make your way all up to the fourth floor (and that's the top floor of about any building in this city, too), and there they are. the escalators. now, remember, you are in a hurry. you're lucky, it is not even that crowded today. just this lovely old couple, right in front of you, on the escalator. standing next to each other, blocking your way. now, you've been to london, you've read about tokyo, you know there is actually a solution.

walk left, stand right.

but they don't know that. they still think that "a whole don carlos with, like, wigs" would be heaven. so, you carefully approach them and try to wait patiently. of course, you fail. then you step a little closer. and a little closer. great, now you are all uncomfourtable. though, what you want, they do not see. you think about saying something, but you have this dream that they might figure it out themselves, since it bloody is common sense. they don't. you're still in a hurry, the escalator is really slow, and now you are raging mad. but since you know of the reputation young people have when it comes to the elderly, anyway, you pull yourself together for one last time, and you politely cough.
she's turning around. she really is turning around!

no, wait, she just gave you that look ("screw you, back in my age you would have got your hair cut and your cheek slapped"), and turns back around. her husband doesn't even notice you. well, that's it. you're done. due to all the unmanaged anger, you quite yell at them: MAY I PLEASE! and try to push them aside and walk past them. in both alert and plain disgust the husband now slowly turns around. and with his tiny, yet irritatingly disparaging voice, you hear him utter the one sentence that until today you hold as holy in a shrine:

"why would you want to walk, it is moving, isn't it."

it is done

as of today, I have decided I will no longer work for free.

I know, sometimes it's the right thing, sometimes it's unavoidable. sometimes it's great. you need to do your favours, and networking, and pay your dues, but people seem to think that just because my work is fun, it must not be paid for. oh no, wrong. it is fun, I love it, but it is also paying my bills. it is how I make my living. so, if people want me doing my work, they have to pay me for it, otherwise I might not even have to kill myself before turning 28, and then? no me, none of my work, either. ha.

it's weird, in some respect. I knew a butcher back then, and I never expected him to bring free steaks. I will always help out friends, and of course, for free, give them all my love and care and good advice. but putting in my hours for someone I strictly have business relations with - pay within two weeks, please. or do it yourself. can't? need an expert? pay within two weeks, please.

and weird, perfectly natural as this sounds, I do feel odd rereading this.
because I do not appreciate my own craftmanship?
because I think little of the quality of what I do?

boy, must I get a grip.

and then, she almost cried

and just today this fiftysomething woman I am working with tried to spice up her lame excuses with that little girl's look again. "well, sorry, that's just the way I AM" she said. well, that's just the stuff that makes me sick, I say. act your age, woman, cut the crap. don't think I am falling for that hurt bambi shit any more. it's too annoying, too annoying.

shopping with girls when you're not ready

oh well, look what I found. always on the dramtic side, I guess I wrote that when I was about 19. my girlfriend and me had just been out shopping with her mum all day, trying to find the cutest dresses and top price face creams. i could not. we are not together anymore, though she is a lovely girl, I tell you. nowadays, I don't come along. I buy my socks on my own, too. it helps to keep your mate smitten. it does.


domesticated to death

where are the fights that we fought
where are the riots I thought
riots that would never end
now hand in hand
we silently walk

what about laughther and tears
what about never no fears
how come now everything’s cute
the sound is on mute
well, on my part anyway

we’re drowning in nicknames and cuddly kisses
the sidewalk turns pink, we are hubby and misses
now everything’s lovely and lovely pisses
me off
I’m domesticated to death
yeah

well now, I was never wild
I was an ugly fat child
the game was played without me
love was made without me

now everything’s new
and then I met you

you came along with a smile
we had fun for a while
now we’re boring as hell

where’s the remains of our style
won’t hang out by the aisle
and name some kid michelle

I fell in love with you
thought you were willing to
go face the storm with me
so all unsensibly
now love is all you do
and those sweet flowers smell like poo
yeah, they do

we’re drowning in nicknames and cuddly kisses
the sidewalk turns pink, we are hubby and misses
now everything’s lovely and lovely pisses
me off
I’m domesticated to death

since I never take photos myself, I quit my flickr.com appearance and joined the talkative. is anybody ever going to read any of this? or do I just have too much time on my hands? well, it's relaxing, and that's what I need right now. so, welcome to my blog.

my favourite place

this is inside the monmouth coffee house, london. it is the best place ever. i love it there.