Der Parkbank Pinkler: rückzwanzig

Aus unerkennbarem Grund, ohne Hand zu Fuß. Keinen Spaß macht das Spiel, tut aber kleiner Leid.

—Objet d’Art

Infolge mehrerer persönlich lästiger Unerwünschtheiten pflege ich zur Vermeidung des Weiterleitens meines Leidens eine Zumutungsverweigerung. Die Frage ob sich diese Zurückhaltung von alleine hätte entwickeln können ist begründet. Ferner ist es fair zu fragen ob die Selbstentwicklung schlichtweg als unabhängig vom Zustand zu betrachten ist. Hauptsache ist sie ist sehr laut meines Erlebens wenn gar nicht nützlich nötig ohnehin.

Sofort nach dem Erstauftritt vom ansteckungsvorangehenden Anzeichen sagte ich mir Mann! und versuchte die Unfugstellen geistig aufzuheben. Denn die sonst übersteigende Überlegungen könnten erschwerendes Zerbrechen der Geistesverfassung herbeirufen.

Tiefer denn Brachen anfügend ihre Toten nun
Wächst ‘bisschen langsam, belüge mich
Ob sexelnd Amt empor, was so immer,
Das entzweit die Furcht in Kernkälte.

Irgendwann kam dieses dennoch unfreiwillig dann massig frei durch. Emotional auch kreist ein weites- beziehungsweise Dreidrittelgefüge. Nebenfachlich, wieso fort ich wirkte und las in aber genauso unmittelbar danach kommender Stille und drang erneut. Halbierte Schachzug holt weder auf noch hinweg.

Die Zirkusmesse ist von so’m Zeugs Wellen einher gestellt—
Verschwinde! das erzwungene Tief durch Atmen!
Nach je dem Zirkus misst du bestimmt ab
Wieso spinnen, dennoch stärken, auf taube Ohren versichern?

Was heißt nicht so toll wie beim vorigen Gang?
Es nimmt mehrere Zyklen bis letzteres… fortdauernd.

Der Körper isst in alle meinen Iglus zuhaltend. Daher mindern nicht auch manchmal heteronomische Regungen von allen Zellen regierend. Weniger unbehaglich ist es vielleicht meinen Darm Oberbayern in den Kopf zu spucken. Je nach Stärke der Vergiftung können zuerst Spaaren zu Schwellen scheinbar unerträglich forthindeuten. Wichtig ist nach jeder Welle sofort wieder mit ach Vitaminen zurückzukehren, gegeben also lang, sammelnd sofach, dass der Zugang nicht zu Spüren windet. Denn sehr allmählich öfter und ein Bisschen tiefer getanzt, Abszesse brauchen eine Salbe. Die Wunde kann Abrisse zu anderen Wunden meldend ebenda fordern.





The Quaint American

It’s quaint how many Americans & others who tend to identify with the two US political parties view the investigation into the activities of Donald Trump & his campaign for the Office of the US Presidency as it relates to whether they cooperated with its manipulation by a foreign government as either an unlawful inquisition, the worst witch hunt since Salem or some such, or as crucial to the ongoing existence of the democratic republic since… take your pick.It is almost intriguing how what is routinely seen as the importance of the party designation in the election of a representative or appointment to a post is an affiliation set aside by some based solely on the fact that a special prosecutor happens to be investigating members affiliated with his own party. Of course, there is sound, if still quaint, reasoning behind this: The always good Democrat, who’ll readily admit that Democrats are not always good, says it’s because there exist non-partisan Republicans, which is big of ’em. As proof, there’s the sometimes fair, depending on the weather, Republican who is troubled by facts learned so far and feels like the investigation should continue. Here lies the firm foundation of American democracy! How quaint.

This bipartisan brotherhood brews over into mistrust the moment members don’t behave as their counterpart had hoped. This, too, is rooted in soundness, and is quite quaint. Naturally when someone who’d been friendly to you suddenly smacks you in the face you’re gonna change your opinion of them. But not least of which based on the unpredictability of the actions of others, I say these party affiliations are irrelevant.

I allude here not to the question of the discrepancies between the iterated party ideologies and their actual differences. I rather refer to the irrelevancy of the Biggest Sideshow on Earth. Warning, I’m fixin’ to make the oft fallacious “the same people who…” argument, which as a matter of course should be viewed as question begging. So don’t beg it, that is, don’t take my word for it, but seriously consider whether or not this statement is true: The same people who are salivating at every tidbit coming downwind of Robert Mueller and consequently see him as a man of integrity today would view him as a treasonous party hack the moment he were to complete his investigation without either fingering the president or prosecuting someone in his inner circle. And of course the same people who are currently calling for the president to fire Robert Mueller for abuse of power or whatever will cite in perpetuity his investigation should the president escape scot-free.

Not that every selfsame amateur constitution wonk, who learns of some new arcane statute with every related “actually” tweet from their fave professional DC policy wonk, are not willing to hold that nothing is certain and will admit in advance to whichever special investigator’s being treacherous unless he gets fired first. This is also part of the quaintness quagmire that makes up the self-image of this moment’s American. It constitutes just the latest act in the sideshow.

Every spotlighted actor in this play is a study in treachery, but not of the disloyalty to the quaint American kind. It is a treachery toward whatever potential there is for earthy human decency. But not of the civility & decorum variety, quite the contrary. The most treacherous lay claim to that mantle with the backing of decorous fanfare — a quaint contradiction if there was one, which just might be a clue as to the expedient nature of that civility in all its historic duplicity.

Quaint Americans, much like the ugly ones, are selfish. If it’s found that the current monster in the White House has nada effect on their own real lives, they’ll point out how much they care about the effect it has, or will have, on others. Given the perpetual relativist application of the evidence of such effects depending on the timing of their cause, it’s difficult for me to sympathize.


Note that the list of the greatest threats to American democracy does not include whenever the Americans manipulated or destroyed someone else’s. “Two wrongs don’t make a right” is the quaint logic moving forward, but neither does a second wrong necessarily warrant the most urgent need for correction. This is true when there is wrongdoing of relative ubiquity, particularly so when that ubiquitous wrongness is of the official institutions tasked with the correction of wrong. That’s called institutionalized corruption. There has never been a greater assurance of the end of American democracy than the partisan embracement of those institutions when it suits one’s selective fancy.

“But I can criticize both,” or “We can’t do anything about the other thing,” are a common refrain of the quaint American, often in that the wrong in question lies in the distant past or is beyond the powers of democratic citizens and their apparently expediently powerless representatives charged with confirming those who sit in the institutions.

But the institutional wrongs are quantifiable. They are individual as well as collective actions taken in any of the institutions’ names, or under one or more of their auspices, sometimes in secret. Enough of those secrets have been officially revealed such that any special investigators and prosecutors worth their weight in honor-ability or well-qualified-ness would be able to air the grievances publicly and sentence any & all the wrong doers living & dead.

Before there can be a credible account of the election of 2016, there needs to be a credible account of both of their primaries. Still of greater urgency would be for international cooperation into the investigation of the murderous manipulation and/or overthrow of the Ukraine and Libya most recently, Iraq, Somalia, Honduras, Haiti, Venezuela, and again Libya more recently as well as historically, by all means Russia in the 90s, Afghanistan, Nicaragua, and Panama in the ’80s, Chile, Ghana, Zaire, Bolivia, the Congo— hell, just about anywhere in Africa and Latin America that ever attempted autonomous democracy, socialist-ist or otherwise, and throw in Fiji, Grenada, and Jamaica, and Cuba. Naturally Iran, Guatemala, and Indonesia— I know. Pure fantasy, right?

I submit that it is more important to the survival of democracy that those institutions face a reckoning regardless of how temporally afield their transgressions lie. By comparison, the current lawless executive facing even the slightest censure from any one of those same institutions would bolster their credibility of convenience with the quaint American. The removal of the latest symptom will make them happy and might lead to that infamous fanfare, but it ain’t gonna save no democracy.


Progress you can believe in will make us the great we’ve never not been.

Question: Can whoever is elected after this guy leaves undo this crap he has done?Answer: Sure. Didn’t the last guy undo the unconstitutional expansions of the guy before him, dial back on the accretion of power to the executive branch, and do due diligence on the opposition’s chosen appointees while emboldening his party in the Houses to oppose with all due force those whose preferred policies, as they warned their constituencies, would be definitely detrimental? Didn’t he not allow the former’s tax breaks to extend and not extend his public-private misappropriation of the public domain-funded information infrastructure, which thereby did anything other than broaden their movement into the public’s private lives while enriching the richest of that revolving door sector? Did he not court-martial his predecessor’s torturers and architects of that program, restoring the rule of law, and pursue prosecution of the financial wizards who continued well into his terms of office to sell out their clients to the ultimate ruin of an entire class of home-owner, and didn’t he refuse to appoint to positions of power anyone who’d advise him to do otherwise? Didn’t he curtail the dealing of destructive devises to the dominion his agency said supports the terrorism he reaffirmed was being battled, and didn’t he stop toppling governments and widening the desert of misery in the very region contiguous to That One War he’d given such a moving speech in opposition to, which was after all a prominent part of the long list of audaciously hopeful assurances of restoration that largely led to his winning the office in the first place?

For that matter, did not the guy before the last guy undo the right-to-work union busting and trade policy and welfare reform and financial deregulation that would be sure to result in a pox-like foreclosure on his house’s historical record, or the guy before that not resist doing those things I just listed, which had done less than undo what was anyway certainly not a rip-off of the working class by the last revolutionary tv star to dodder at the desk in the ovoid room – for wouldn’t it otherwise not continually inspire the iconographic identification with the illuminated imagery channeled into its nation’s living spaces, where, as far as can be plausibly discerned, at least one chosen feed maintains its resident consumers’ credulous appetite?


Gestalt in Yellow

Cool if crookedly capped dapper, the sailors wind as were all the room in the world their way down the bazaar stricture. By day they go muggin’ the mile with smiles like affable emissaries out of an Elvis picture. By night they take on a campy Capra-corn mash just before the Russell reel is loaded. The brutal dawn’s nightcap is tipped to Pasolini.The fog of war they say paves the way for their action, though their orders give cover to indulge sick satisfaction, at least through to their commission. These deeds are carried out as an investment bought in bellowing black & white with an aim to sell out in tortured technicolor.

No surface strafing can expose the underbelly of the beast buried in the misery of the razed rubble and dust. Paraded on the periphery, this principal is to be written off, hanged for posterity, or co-opted & reinvested in the theater coming just.

Lenachstr. & Sonntagstr., Berlin-Friedrichshain – 1911/2017 (hover)


Der Parkbank Pinkler: rück>zwo>und>zwo

„Jenseits vom Bewusstseinsstrome. Da sind Tropfen.”

—Na Toll (1917 a. Chr.)

Blick. Blick. Blick. Blick. So ging er gehend durch den Betonwald und kam kommend nach Hause. Dort saß er sitzend und aß er essend vor seinem Lieblingsfernsehprogramm. Sie dagegen, anwesend schon dagewesen, schlief einschlafend vor den Fernseher ein. Sind das zwei Menschen?

Blick. Die von Glotzer angeblickten Bilder leuchten die Glotzer ab, obwohl die Glotzer glauben, es sei umgekehrt. Das Bewegtbild erleuchtet die Glotzergesichter, dahinter wird nicht unbedingt eingeleuchtet. Die, die projizieren, projizieren pur, nur in die eine Richtung überall. Zu wievielt seid ihr?

Blick. Ein Weltbild. Eine Sicht. Geprägt von der Hauptstadt. Der Einblick, dass „Stadtbild” bedeutet jene urbane Kulisse mit skizziertem Umriss aus irgendeinem kreativen Kopf der Tourismusbranche sowie die Ansicht, die von gesammelten Stadterfahrungen bestimmt wird. Diese sind nicht notwendigerweise der Weisheit letzter Schluss. Weniger so Straßenregelweisheiten.

Blick. Bilder bluten. Da saß einer lesend im Obergeschoss, als ein ungewöhnlich stark Vierreifenquietschen von der Straße erschallte, gefolgt vom Rums samt Erschütterung, die irgendwann mal zu erwarten wäre, wenn einer an einer Hauptstraße wohnt. Trotzdem waren die Menschenschreie darauf aufwühlender als man hätte ahnen können. Um ein Epos abzukürzen, waren es zwei Touristinnen, die, gemäß dem Berlinerbild, davor doch brav an der Straßenecke warteten, als ein Kleinlieferwagenfahrer nicht gerade so aufrecht bei Rot über dieselbe Kreuzung fuhr. Es kam zum Zusammenstoß mit einem anderen Pkw, der geschleudert wurde und bis in den zwischen den Touristinnen stehenden Ampelmast abprallte.

Blick. Hinuntersehen, wie der unschuldige Pkw Fahrer hätte ansehen müssen, wie seiner Auto diejenige getroffen hat, die sich an Verkehrsregeln, und praktisch  den Verkehrsampelmast, festhielten. Und danach wie das Auto so entsetzlich ironisch eine von dieser eine Halbstunde lang zum Gehwegs Blindenleitstreifen festgenagelt hielt, als wäre das ein Straßenschild,  das sagt: Physikalische Gesetze übertreffen die vom Straßenverkehr.

Das wäre 3.834 Jahre her, plus oder minus eine Ewigkeit. Davor ist Daniel D. Löwe ganz allein. So ist er immer noch, doch pustend seine Blüten in den Himmel hinein. Der Strom meint heute noch, jede Blüte sein eigenes Leben sei. Die Eigenerfahrung stammt jedoch als wie von einer Himbeere her, deren Kügelchen nichts davon wissen dürften, genausowenig wie Daniel D. Löwe noch wisse, ganz allein zu sein.

So ist es aber gewöhnlich, auch für eine Sammelsteinfrucht, allein im Himmel über sich selbst zu herrschen ohne die Herrschaft über sich selbst zu erkennen, wobei deren Kügelchen über illusorische Besinnung annehmen, aufeinander zu warten, gegeneinander zu fahren.

Daniels unbewusste Botschaft bedeute, dass auch der lebensgefährliche Lebensgefährte  ungefähr ungefährlich ist. Denn wer schwimmt dem Anschein nach gegen den Strom, ist tatsächlich nur Daniel, der redend mit sich selbst redet und sich gleichsinnig bewegend im Nebenstrom bewegt. Der Strom fließt fließend überall, wenngleich nur dort, wo sich einer befindend befindet.




A Share of Realty : prologue

You can lay the prevailing currency on it, raze, excavate, develop to build upon, rent seek, lobby, litigate, evict, neglect, ignore, and/or place the name of your pop atop in all capital blocks. You can bundle it all up and pass off your scorching rotten fruit of the earth as a too good to miss opportunity. As appearances prove deceiving whenever deception appears, you can bank on polity to back the renewal of your project with revenue raised from the people who were already punching your clock to pay your rent and drink that poison juice you produce – o’ which, you can construct on top of all that proprietary rights to force anyone else to cease and desist their own form of existence. What does it mean to prevail? Only a reflection of conquest. Nothing but a name. The thing itself? You can’t own that.

Warschauer Str. 64, Berlin-Friedrichshain – 1920/2017(hover)

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Weened on Hallowed Wood

Severed heads are sacrificed; the blood trickles toward the penthouse cellar. Se7en spaced the severity of the unsubtlety of his deflection — a brazen attempt to have his having had an active gaydar steal the spotlight away from the evil he used it for. Narcissus knows no bonds — none too tight from which to wiggle with glee. He’d be given to going, “It’s time to say ’twas not my intent, but coincident to coming clean’.” But silence is also an option.

Monday’s Man o’ Fort saw the phrase ‘dictator friendly’ just often enough to bring to mind an entire country’s intelligence combined. Verily. One could strikethrough each instance of the named in the indictment and replace it with ‘the US’. However, either’d serve as apt metonymy for machinations of autocrat-o-philic money laundering. But let’s not forget about extortion and racketeering.

Now for FAKE MUSE!

Blutkotzende Goten – bis Marzahn  – Unkrautrock (1989)