MEUTE , MISS YOU

MEUTE ,You & Me

Emerson, Lake & Palmer , Fanfare For The Common Man

Blade Runner Blues , Vangelis

me, i don't live in a city for long..and now maybe not yet again.
you never know. you never know the next steps after the next,
the turnings, the signs. i remember such moments..

cities have a pull - but at night many are a dead place.
all these lights show us that many many people live there-and
banks, offices, industry-and a lot of ugliness hidden.
we may be reminded of how we deal with nature, with us ourselves,
how we are depending on what we have invented and constructed more against nature than with it,
too fast, think of how fast these cities have grown in the wilderness,
the chaos of this growth being more a sign of life than the construction,
also a wild growth of greed, humanity seeing all in terms of use, utility, profit:
buildings, body, other bodies, sleep, food, love, soul and life.

we may see people sleeping under bridges,  people not seeing each other,
their eyes averted.  human creation controls  humans from without,
a history of abuse, abuse by very rich people pushing the buttons.
reflecting how we let us be abused and how we abuse each other and ourselves.

and there, at night, when the last drunkards leave the city, in the starwars kind of beauty
of science fiction come true we can feel helpless and more isolated than we are-
we made these cities because we feel too much alone in the face of death-
they are an effect of our small egos building the illusion of ruling the world-

and in this moment we could , we could see that we are not rulers, that all our violence
is nothing, each flower is more perfect than our creation. and we even are more perfect and
more interdependent and connected and more alive inside than these walls and illusions allow
us to perceive. we are not this creation nor the rulers nor the cities nor the systems of doom.

there is a special beauty in ruins overgrown by weeds and small flowers, by bushes, walls bursting with roots in the cracks-we can imagine the crumbling away and the decay of our cities, of us ourselves, of the crust of civilization, culture, education, of the delusion of eternity in blocks of concrete and wooden crosses with nails.
even though some of these ruins may be only there because speculators leave houses rotting on purpose we can experience a more spiritual insight, quite sensual, coming to our senses.
this is the magic of ruins.
memory of life illuminating perception.

at day when the city is flooded with people and traffic, in the midst of all this
we can observe the complete spectrum of human behaviour , the stickiness, the resilience,
the clumsiness, the brutality,laughters unheard because a bus passes, smiles cut off by a taxi,
small ants carrying notebooks and umbrellas, rituals of reproduction, the smell of sweat and perfume and shit and old cooking fat, pornographic advertisements
on big walls , noise and noise slowly turning into the hum of a beehive.

there is a kind of weird synchronicity even in the sound of ambulances and police sirens,
the rhythm of day and night showing a mix of science fiction and human weakness and
again and again also the last dance and joy of the gladiators, these small robots are after all alive.

and you walk, a small child sits with naked feet in a fountain thoroughly enjoying the water and a first ice cream, laughing , each mouthful wonder and joy, ready for surprise and astonishment and for now and now. but they wouldn't phrase this nor need to.
small children don't make plans, they live in the present.
now i start to smile with this child, the next moment i imagine what we teach:
how to build a life and houses and things without pleasure, how we teach them to lose interest
and awareness and only learn control and adaptation to an ugly estranged and senseless life
following the rule of  survival. this is what they are told..
animals don't follow the rule of survival, they live.

no. we are not alone.
it is an illusion.

Beatles, Let It Be [1970]

let it be... maybe i can sleep now. overtired from journey...

Max Richter - Autumn 1 & 2 (Songs from before)

soon..harvesting has started in some areas...

Mercedes Sosa , Yo vengo a ofrecer mi corazón (Fito Páez)

..who wants a heart? life is hard, people need bread and money.

nothing is so easy. simple feeling and spontaneous action are in a cul-de-sac.

for now, i leave it there, for another while. i invent me after more death.

i have green wings to sleep in the wind, i am a painting, a carpet of colours and holes and gaps and threads going through and such woven into a knot, fine and gross patterns, all moves.
i can just leave or not or be ashes and flowers on a wall or a field of golden wheat
or a bird or a stone covered with moss, all is possible, why not.

i talk to me endlessly, i talk me, i am the story and the narrator, i live and grow from inside as much as i can when i want to and when i don't want to. i react, fuse, blow up, re-group, i drink and eat and first of all, i am alive and never alone.
not when i am alone.because there is no alone.

we are dream and dreamer, breather and breath.

communion...is not in words. or least of all in words.
more in skin, in touch, in music, in listening, in silence.
communion...is sacred. it does not refer to a church.

people say one thing and feel another.
they close. we all do, again and again.

emotional depth does not mean hell but honesty
and seeing through the soul ,allowing to be seen and seeing.
it is not a demand but to try is better than to miss the dance.

experience and faith do not come to cynical , desperate or bitter conclusions: this is thought.
thought just comes and goes like hunger, thirst, pissing, shitting, death.
when it comes from inside life it will be precious.
what i see as human reason and thought is ugly buildings and distorted
persons, lost, zombies with painted nails and faces.
but, but. when i see from inside i am aware of all,
the buildings stay ugly and foreign to my soul, but the humans are more alive
as soon as i open my mind, it is all about going through the wall.
out of reaction and through the gate.
it is open. or not.

unfortunately the most intelligent and , alas, educated persons are often totally unable
to be happy, to laugh, to radiate humour.
so, look at the shit i wrote and laugh~i do or say, i smile...
and admit that hope is the most incredible form of madness,
faith a need, humour  radiates humility, grace and presence
in listening are qualities which do not grow without suffering.

Max Richter, H Thinks A Journey

Ólafur Arnalds , Undan Hulu

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds , Distant Sky - Live in Copenhagen

Let us go now, my one true love
Call the gasman, cut the power out
We can set out, we can set out for the distant skies
Watch the sun, watch it rising in your eyes

Let us go now, my darling companion
Set out for the distant skies
See the sun, see it rising
See it rising, rising in your eyes

They told us our gods would outlive us
They told us our dreams would outlive us
They told us our gods would outlive us
But they lied

Let us go now, my only companion
Set out for the distant skies
Soon the children will be rising, will be rising
This is not for our eyes

Ólafur Arnalds ,Saman