(15.3.2021, Excerpt from the belief, the rotting manuscript of a novel, Chapter Curriculum Absurdum, the FrecheGören years and Flottmann Rambo, by the way: the shortness of breath provides information about my permanent mitochondrial disaster, joyless, unnoticed departure)
….. But the weak pump or that keeps me
Long, hated loungers, keep me this constant physical
Post-workout breakdowns about it, no later than the
To go uphill again the day after next?! No! To me mine
To train condition and to train off my deconditioning, train
I'll be right back the next day or the day after that! Strictly speaking
Deconditioning just means, that a skill, which I once
learned and mastered, faded in my brain as a neural trace. I
ergo my brain just has to trim it long enough, again to
function, then I'll get the stupid habit of
Unlearn malfunctioning sooner or later. The most important thing is,
that I don't stop training even then, when i get the symptoms
feel, but simply step over them, like I am Rambo!
At least that's what my shrink says, Rambo Flottmann. When I get over mine
Symptoms step over and the limit of my inner weaker self
overcome, my brain can't just form the right synapses, I show
so too, that I am really motivated, to do the impossible and through that
Wall to go! The only requirement here is just, that i mean
I take therapies really seriously and especially not hippotherapy
always new tails. I skip the hippotherapy under that
pretext, says my shrink, by doing walking therapy on my own
replace down by the river. Although I actually also do the walking therapy downstairs
Just advance the river, to study my curriculum at home in my four walls
To write absurdity. I say, i'm writing a résumé, who help me
should, to find a job and to integrate myself into the job market, says my
Shrink. Instead, I'm writing a book, It is absurd same curriculum, in
where nothing is true and nothing is real, because it is not about anything and only the
Self-reflection serves. Other than that, I seem to be forgetting, that too
the writing, just like riding, is only intended as therapy, a
therapy, which then disappears again, as soon as my reference to the earth is established, my
Reintegration into the market economy or sub-economy worked.
However, if I tell myself, today i'm doing some writing therapy and
a bit of walking therapy tomorrow, cannot do such a reintegration
Valves. I can take therapy and be it writing therapy or
Walking therapy, hippotherapy or talk therapy (to which I
also go once a week), all therapy, yes do not prescribe yourself! Just
a therapist can do that! And that's not what my shrink says, I know that myself! The
The crux is: only if the psychiatrist prescribes the therapy, is therapy too
therapy!
Nonetheless, I said Rambo Flottmann before the last ride,
that I prefer walking therapy to writing therapy, the
Clearly prefer writing therapy to hippotherapy. Gut, gives
is still talk therapy, that I have completely forgotten so far, and the me 10
not bad like it, especially because I am allowed to do so, pretty extensive
about my problem: the symptoms, to talk. Should these symptoms be caused by the
long speeches but one day disappear, from now on I will not become any
go to single therapy! I can swear that here! Generally I have
I don't really care about therapy, especially does hippotherapy
to create me. Strictly speaking, I am excited against hippotherapy
slight reluctance. But it is good, if I go on to hippotherapy and
just ignore this reluctance? No, I do not think so! And that's why
I recently presented Rambo Flottmann with a fait accompli, in
that I said, that I will stop riding immediately, That's over and that's it.
"And why?“, Rambo Flottmann wanted to know surprised and pushed the
Buttock cheek of the slightly lame horse first, then mine with his
Hand lightly. It was an icy cold winter day, Drifts of snow slapped from me
the treetops in the face, while the dearest and stubborn Hervar das
Halters pulled down every five meters and followed with his mouth in the snow
Spices digged. Shortly afterwards we got into an icy ravine, and the
Icelandic horse did not take a step further. „Grr, Hervar, grr!”, rief Rambo
Flottmann and tried to pull Hervar around by the halter, while i'm out
my glove was slipped on, tenderly around the horse's velvety neck
to pat. “Now let's do a brisk trot! Huh, Hervar!” Floating
Rambo Flottmann, who had made it after a quarter of an hour, me and
to push the horse up the icy ravine from behind, I know, too
not how. Once at the top, Hervar suddenly galloped on it
the, a short lash from Flottmann's hand causes him to panic
have moved.
"What do you feel? Feel the ground under your feet?" While
Flottmann, mein Shrink, sprinted breathlessly beside us, echoed his
euphoric voice through the thicket. “But ask the horse!“,
I yelled back, panting. "Because, honestly, I can go up on the horse 11
You don't even feel this ground contact with your feet, as long as my feet
are still in the stirrup, purely logical! Perhaps the horse can make this contact
feel, although that would surprise me… ” I clutched Hervar's mane
fest, turned his head and saw Rambo, arms on hips, stand
stay. He screamed loudly: "Mrs. Storm! Close your eyes! Press
the leg firmly against the loin of the animal! Give the heel the spurs!
Otherwise it will be lame!” - “What spurs?”, I called back petrified, got me up
in the stirrup and seriously kept an eye out for mushrooms. I have to do it on this one
Perhaps mention the place again: I just can't do it anymore under stress
think properly. My whole fight-and-flight system breaks with actions like
mercilessly together! This is all the stranger, as much suggests it
indicates, that I've been in this fight-and-flight trip for several years
stayed. Part of my alarm system being just like a horse
burns permanently, while another keeps braking. "But may
I now descend? I think, I don't feel the ground beneath mine
Füssen…! Mr. Flottmann…!"-" Jump jump, hühü Hervar! Now we're still doing it
a little gallop!“Flottmann ignored my need.
That suddenly went through my head, that I had to keep riding and
was not allowed to dismount, because I do my job at the integration center ZEFA and
had previously lost the job at the Famulus, ride on and that as long as, until I
had another job prospect. At the moment I didn't have a job in
Prospect still the intention, to return to ZEFA, where I love
Had only eaten petit-beurre for a long day and colored the mandala. Also
I slipped out of the stirrups, put his arms around the horse
Belly and let me fall sideways over his back to the floor. I landed well
and immediately had ground under his feet again, Oh wonder. But a week
after this experience I did not go to hippotherapy and that too
I just skipped the last and penultimate appointment. I do not know, how many
Dates I skipped, but with every appointment, that I let go with relish, 12
my guilty conscience grew stronger. I thought of my father, Hannes
Friedrich and to the education account, that he created for me, and that I for
Printer cartridges, Bread and cheese as well as fashion knick-knacks as good as
used up. This money was made by angry, who as a child everyone
Friday night the crop felt on his back. One, which is about it
fervently wishes, that one day I will get a little higher and further and
not completely naked there stand in life. I thought with a bad conscience.
If only I can do it, to give myself the necessary lashes myself,
two, three, that's enough to roll up! So I was close to it, to the phone too
to grab, to apologize to Flottmann for my truancy. Than me
suddenly occurred, that Rambo Flottmann the place on the back of the horse
presumably had already been replaced by a new person. One
Labor problem pile, which also shows signs of a lack of earth reference,
and which therefore doesn't work at work. Labor problem pile, with
your feet cannot reach the floor, after all, are always found.
But who does all the real work and carries all the burden on his own
old back and has become quite dull and sluggish from all of them
Operations, nobody thinks about that!
The thing about Hervar is this: in fact, I don't want him at all
prepare, I just want to stroke him! I prefer to stroke things, as that
I prepare them! I think, I would get off the horse immediately to stroke it
and walk long distances, but not to prepare. Long distances too
I probably wouldn't walk for most of the time anyway,
at least not for any work, that is the crux of the matter. But just like that
go and feel, like the power with every step I take into my body
flows back, for that already. I would do anything for that! Go, Stroke,
Write. Or the other way around: Go first, then write. Then petting.
The problem is just, that I don't know, whom to stroke, while I
at the same time not knowing again, what I have in my curriculum absurdity13
should write. In fact, I only write around at the beginning.
Rambo Flottmann said, that maybe in seventy years I will know, about what i
want to write. So I should wait a while before writing. But I can
do not wait. I think, my feeling, my life has not started yet,
will only fade, as soon as I am a poet, which will hopefully be the case soon
will be.
((sensual) experienced, as: 2003/(sensual) (double)detected, two: in content: 2011/restructured in content and word, (technical, cognitive): 2014)