Long Long Long…

February is such a long month.

Especially when it's September.

Blind Date…

* Nice to meet you. Who are you?

# My name is Bromford Bibble. And you don't

know what it's like when you come home

from a long day's work to find your llama

hairing in the shower.

* Hairing?

# Yes. You know like losing a lot of hair and to

block the drains.

* Well, I am not quite sure whether that is a real
and existing English word. What do you do for
a living in your long days of work?

# Oh, I'm a musician.

* Oh, a musician. That's interesting. How
exciting. Do you play an instrument? Are you a
singer? What kind of music do you do?

# Well, maybe musician was the wrong word.

Maybe I am a physician.

* Oh, well a scientist. Physics. That's kind of
interesting, too. What is your area of
expertise? Quantum physics? Space and time
relativity?

# I said physician, not physicist.

* So, you are a doctor?

# Oh, you are giving me such a headache. Stop

talking. Stop asking me all those silly

questions. They are confusing me. If you want

to know the truth; I am always between two

jobs. But if you really want to call me

something call me the Great Repeater. That's

what I do for a living. I repeat myself.

 

Walking…

On Speeding Cars…

That's dangerous, you know.
I went down on Whitaker Lane today.
The street was deserted.
Not a living soul in sight.
The world was full of zombies.

What I would be in a zombie apocalypse?
Dead most likely.

So if I stand in front of a speeding car
Would you tell me who you are, what you like?
What's on your mind, if I'd get it right?
How I love that no one knows
And these secrets all that we've got so far
The demons in the dark, lie again
Play pretends like it never ends
This way no one has to know…

The whole life is improvisation.
And I am very bad at impro, you know.

Stand in front of a speeding car
like a deer in the headlights.

The google translator network is reading my mind again.

And the elevator is still broken.

Arriba! Arriba! Ándale! Ándale…

Speedy's Back In Town…

Speedy's back in town. That little mousy man with his black vibrissae moustache and his sombrero just showed up again and re-opened 

SPEEDY'S

SANDWICH BAR & CAFE

BREAKFAST • LUNCH • PASTA

 with that famous red marquise in the basement of 666, Whitaker Lane.

Yes, I am going with the local customs from now on naming the number before the street's name.

And "Olé!" is all I ever heard him say.

"Get out you silly cuckoo", he is yelling at me. "I'm your bartender not your shrink, you fool. Take your well-groomed prejudices and stereotypes and leave my restaurant at once."

Oh, I feel so socially awkward. Or is it awe? Awesome awkward. Awe, I feel so awesomely awkwardly.

My train of thoughts has left the station and jumped the rails.

I owe you awe. Owesome. Or is it oar? Oak. Oaken oars row your boot gently down the awe. Oaken oars hit open oats. Oats are not otters. Otter's oat in the wind in the willows is really otter's oatmeal. Or oaken oarmeal?

Gently down the stream. Scream. Do you like horror movies? What is your favourite horror movie, friend?

And never leave the roller coaster in full speed!

STOP !!!

WHAAAT ????

Down The Rabbit-Hole...

"Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be to late!"

Hurry, White Rabbit with your watch in your waistcoat-pocket.

There's never enough time when you serve the Red Queen...

Go and ask Alice... COOPER...

The Great Relieve…

You drink water.

I drink gasoline.

One of us is happy.

The other one is me.

Do not disturb! Relevant things are happening.

This is nothing but spontaneous humbug of a historical and yet quite hysterical kind.

That bearded man was wearing a red fez. And the Doctor was strangling him with his scarf. But that is not what I wanted to talk about.

Set the controls for the heart of the sun.

And you should think about things. Who are you? And where and why and so on and on and on and son… And you should think about sins…

I am walking in the footsteps of William, the Conqueror. Well, not really… That is just another stolen memory from somebody else. Like name-dropping names of famous persons I have never really met. Vincent Churchill was a fine chap, by the way, and he played a fantastic hand of cards…Not to mention that his name was really Winston, not Vincent…

I am not walking or travelling anywhere. I am grounded to the place of my birth. Or well, nearby to be precise. I never leave home where the heart is and I never will. I never leave home where the herd is what hard is…

Utter humbug.

And there are these food steps where you can get food for free just as long as you look miserable or crazy enough or just unable to deal with the struggles of your daily life.

Who was Doctor Struggles, by the way?

And for those of you who care. I am not stitious. I am super. I am superstitious!

Darn!

Not prepared again...
Almost missed another Wednesday...

But by the way...

BON VOYAGE !!!
Wherever you may be...

Mice, maize, mealies…

And again I am living my paranoias…

I am afraid of corn fields – not the friendly, dry and at the end of summer yellow grain or cereal ones but the hostile green ones with their big yellowish corn cobs that always remind me of the grinning teeth of a skeleton.

But maybe my use of the word corn is too European. I am talking about Indian corn or maize as it may be called correctly. And maize is an invader. Who brought it home to Europe from America - The New World? Christopher Columbus himself? The great discoverer who falsely took Indiana for India or America for something completely different? The greatest discoverer of the world who only repeated what the Vikings did many, many years before him?

And now corn is growing everywhere and the local European animals are starving because they cannot eat it. And popcorn is only a natural kind of Styrofoam.

We are living in a world of creepy corn fields and labyrinths. Nobody knows what is hiding inside.

Did you know that the German word for maize or Indian corn sounds like the English word "mice"?

Yes, I am talking about our little grey and furry friends with their sharp teeth and their little black needle head eyes. The beady-eyed mice have a plan. They will overthrow us. They will make us fall…

THE MICE SHALL INHERIT THE EARTH…

Maybe, it's time to think about a new paranoia again.