It all looked so simple today till I came home to open the door and I didn't know how something has changed and though I assume it wasn't the door I secretly hoped it was
Day 2365, assume.
Daily picture, PoetryDay 2364, getting there.
Daily picture, Poetry
I turned fifty today
and though it's just a number
or coincidence
but the bars of the cell I stept in
when the twenties left
are getting thinner
and the world outside more colorful
being in my thirties and forties
was great
but it was not the morning light
the expectation
or the early evening with it's anticipation
of a beautiful sunset
I am glad it's over
and I miss it
Day 2363, history.
Books, Daily picture
Friedrich Nietzsche
Untimely Meditations
On the uses and disadvantages of history for life
- Consider the cattle, grazing as they pass you by: they do not know what is meant by yesterday or today, they leap about, eat, rest, digest, leap about again, and so from morn till night and from day to day, fettered to the moment and its pleasure or displeasure, and thus neither melancholy nor bored. This is a hard sight for man to see; for, though he thinks himself better than the animals because he is human, he cannot help envying them their happiness – what they have, a life neither bored nor painful, is precisely what he wants, yet he cannot have it because he refuses to be like an animal. A human being may well ask an animal: ‘Why do you not speak to me of your happiness but only stand and gaze at me?’ The animal would like to answer, and say: ‘The reason is I always forget what I was going to say’ -but then he forgot this answer too, and stayed silent: so that the human being was left wondering. But he also wonders at himself, that he cannot learn to forget but clings relentlessly to the past: however far and fast he may run, this chain runs with him. And it is a matter for wonder: a moment, now here and then gone, nothing before it came, again nothing after it has gone, nonetheless returns as a ghost and disturbs the peace of a later moment. A leaf flutters from the scroll of time, floats away- and suddenly floats back again and falls into the man’s lap. Then the man says ‘I remember’ and envies the animal, who at once forgets and for whom every moment really dies, sinks back into night and fog and is extinguished for ever…
See also: https://nochrisis.blog/unzeitgemasse-betrachtungen/
Day 2362, it felt.
Daily picture, Poetry
It felt like I was falling over lying on the ground it was not in a dream just looing at the sky and feeling the world
Day 2361, too long.
Day's pictures, Poetry
words have been hanging out there like on the banner with hardly any fibers left the words disappeared absorbed at most by the surrounding I ask around but only dare to look if someone knows afraid for the answer I decide it has been hanging there far too long
Day 2360, next corner.
Day's pictures, Poetry
The houses on all sides white in the sun grey in the shadow its calm here the road I take is made of grass the buildings move slowly they disappear till around the corner I hope as a last fleeting thought
Day 2359, little kid.
Day's pictures, Poetry
The little kid in me disappeared when I arrived for the first time I still see him staring from a distant memory triggered to hide not from my stare but a sudden movement unfamiliarity I slowly move away as not to scare him for good
Day 2358, tactical.
Day's pictures, Poetry
Most of us can almost
see the labels
tact on us
before we can struggle
Day 2357, look.
Day's pictures, Poetry
You looked at me with no clue what I was I stood up walked away and you followed me but only with that look
Day 2356, if it reins.
Day's pictures, Poetry
You get reined in a lot maybe its the world around you or you that dances too much I suggest an other outlet so you can see this downpour and do a waltz in it
Day 2355, attached.
Day's pictures, Poetry
I've only listened to your inside
but I will recognize you
if I see you on the street
Day 2354, disturb.
Day's pictures, Poetry
A little disturbance in symmetry does not disturb me it just makes me wonder why
Day 2353, glass.
Day's pictures, Poetry
We all live alone pretending to look at the world through misformed glass the windows don’t open in this cellar we breathe through cracks we made we love the fresh air to get in not out there
My “fresh air”, so to say, is reading books from people that I can relate to. I would like to meet people that are still alive and have similar thoughts like these long-dead philosophers, but no one has taught me the secret sign that like-minded people give each other when they cross each other in life. I like to read Nietzsche, but it doesn’t really matter which philosopher you read because they all share a willingness to search and question and have all seen the underlying problems. Their answers might be different, but I don’t think that answers are that important to get wiser; maybe answers function is being an anchor, and having one might tempt you to throw it overboard in rougher weather or when tired of sailing
Underneath are some quotes from one of Nietzsche’s last books: Twilight of the idols, or how to philosophize with a hammer. The hammer he uses is not one we use for driving nails but one the doctor uses to test reflexes and abnormalities in the nervous system…just so you know. Stucked between these quotes is a famous one “Out of life’s school of war: What does not destroy me, makes me stronger.” Because of all the (mis)use, it is now some kind of a platitude for me, but that doesn’t take away that you can still write a book about this one quote if you want.
Day 2352, Eminem.
Day's pictures, music
I have all kinds of music on my phone, but besides Alanis Morissette, I have only all the albums of Eminem on it. I don’t exactly know why I like his music; it is not his lyrics; he often goes so fast that it is hard to follow for me, it is probably his energy. I like watching YouTube videos where they react to and explain his music, which gives me another appreciation and understanding of why he is praised so highly. I think he has a lot of talent, and he found a lucrative outlet for that; but he is still the tortured artist he’s always been, but he also stayed true to himself and his art.
Day 2351, movement from the day.
Day's pictures, Poetry
The green door on the first floor I forget its color inside sitting in front of the window staring outside eyes closed watching the lights white inside moving on the rhythm from the outside
Day 2350, thoughts.
Day's pictures, Poetry
My thoughts are making towers of Babel without me
Nochrisis 