(Notepad: Marion Jeanne 2015)
Known, that Peter the Great fucks his men dick, Dicks- Rammler-, -Stecher- called in a confidential circle? I mean, I shouldn't always deal with my illness, but get used to it slowly, that nothing is left of me, and I'll go away, so many others have done it before me, even such, the lifetime medals amassed, Lands taken and their fruit transplanted innumerable.
Last night my cat's look told me: Let it be good and go to sleep, you tried everything for today. Nothing came of it, and so what the hell? But I could not, because I lost my head that day, I didn't remember in a shopping mall, where I am, and which way to go. Und nun fürchte ich um meinen Kopf und will ihn gar nicht mehr loslassen und keine Minute mehr hergeben, so, how I already gave my body, although my limbs are still there, How I see: My arms, hands, legs, equal to dummies, hanging on a fluid from— awareness …broken.
Dick fucker, Bumpers- Stecher. So sit under the candelabra, being the prince Gorgori (Gorgorski?) already lies under the banquet table, because he has already drunk himself to death, and discuss the situation in Sweden, and Peter says: “Of, Pimmelf… attack with your army from below … du Stech … from the Black Sea … and you stop … from mainland Finland!” etc. I mean, I believe, it was Peter, the great, who was involved in this thing with Sweden and conquered this country. Or was it the one-eyed Michael? Alexei, the Vampire, Ivan the Terrible, the wrong Dimitri or Nikolai?
One must know, the tsarist dynasty of the Romanovs spanned three centuries, and from the 992 Book pages “Splendor and fall of the tsarist empire” I haven't read all of them; (it is usually too hot for that now.) Tsar Nicholas was the last ruler, They captured him and his family and shot them, although his three daughters were not dead immediately, because the balls got stuck in their whalebone-starched corsets. (look, this is it, what remained of the matter to me!) And oh yes: who gave the order for this murder, later held the highest offices in the new regime and thanked them 1970 from. That was called communism, I think, a vision, who wanted, that all people are equal (?) and get paid for their work; whether civil servant or cleaning lady. Because all work weighs the same, if it is done, I assume, and less, because humans have a value in themselves and weigh the same, have I understood that correctly? Correct me! I still want to learn! God dammit!
And what happened from then on, I have to read it in the NZZ, the Neue Züricher Zeitung, which I subscribed to the day before yesterday, so that I myself, Hahaha, don't just always deal with my illness, but fly a little out into this world, from the bed, not by plane, (I flew only once in my life). Because, who knows, maybe I'll leave soon, while the disease now also apparently robs my head, and I'm stupid in the mall and don't know anymore, I have to go past the DOSENBACH SCHUHEN on the left or past the ZARA BOUTIQUE on the right, go further? Aha, it depends, where i want to go? Or-aha—–
It depends on, where I'm from? But where do I come from and where do I want to go? I dont know, can't remember that moment! And just stare at the green sign of the DOSENBACH SHOES, where I've been beautiful for years, cheap, I bought chatty Schlarpen, when I was still MARCHING and knew about my MARCH, e.g.. in die ZARA BOUTIQUe, to the last and first of all fashion screams ( where I found summer bibs, that weighed as much as a delicate feather—
oh utter, oh plump headlessness!
I am losing consciousness, my last tender fluid? Let it be, the cat's look tells me, let go, pull! But I do not want to, claw me in these last, tangible and at the same time most intangible “material”, brain (?) a. If I turn my head now, lose the functions of my brain, then i'm alone. And I'd rather go through, I'm thinking, and monitor the final building blocks of my thinking, I think right now, even if I often just turn in circles, mentally, and would be broke a thousand times, a company would be my brain or, conversely, my brain would be a company—- understood— inflationary—
I let go of my body (or is that a bluff?), long and limp it hangs along me in limbs, they are dead pieces of furniture, Dummies. I don't need a summer dress from the BOUTIQUe ZARA this summer, to test the grip buried under wrinkles again on MY INNER MEN'S WORLD. With my flesh, That has deceived me a thousand times, can you and me (and whoever it is) do nothing more, I've got used to that, that is not the problem—-
Ok., I would have liked to have enjoyed a little more (it seems i am not a communist), from a purely mathematical point of view, I don't have enough of it in my pocket. (Capitalist?) A skeleton with demands! (‘schwere M.E.-Patienten haben das Niveau von Aidskranken drei Monate vor dem Tod’, this for decades)!: So I wanted the juggling piece of one “last” Plan a hug, at home in my stretcher, to receive the carnal God once more, and blow him out for a carnal kiss, a frenzy! (see picture above and yet by far not quite!!) But the kiss stuck in my soul! And it puffed my chest, there were those lips, I listened to sentences: BUT WE CANNOT MERGE, LOVED ONE, IN ONE GAP?-, already gone—- Good, the great absurdity—-
And today I'm thinking something serious and not particularly fun, and even if everything, what I'm saying is a bit of a provocation, i'm serious: There is no carnal pleasure for a seriously ill person, because
is he still human??
I mean, the medals, the countries, the binge, the fighting, bribing oneself, Wins, licking oneself off in hate and love etc.; (damn Bordi attack!), all of this belongs to living people, a human, who lives this wonderfully absurd material life for ninety years - damn it —–! enjoy, IN excess —– WASTED, before he someday, nach kurz erlittener Krankheit, in many cases, dies.
Before that, however, he quickly surrenders his medals and forgets about fame, die Malocherei, For whom he lived and sweated, and the recognition, which he bought, means nothing to him, from pure naturalness—
—do you understand, before: He forgets EVERYTHING!!!
because he is from the “Reich” liked the people, and the living now forget it or have it, in the event of, that his death will take longer, forgotten even in his lifetime, and,
it is so short, the human half-life ….
So what, you tried it. Says the cat's gaze to me, those high up on their bar stools, her chair, out on the balcony under the stars, sits, tonight. Let it be good, go to sleep! I do not know anyone, who owns the present. Because who has it, and now, is in her right now, who is lucky, he doesn't know! And who it no longer belongs to and whom it has cast out and slurped down to hell, which belongs to Hades and his sisters, he can in principle dream of her. Meow! He stretches out his arms towards the daylight, and all of that, what he no longer has and would like to own again, he owns, by permeating the present with his consciousness … halfway. Bah.
Dick fuckers.
(14.6.17, Bordi-Text)