„why do you sneak
so shy in the twilight, zarathustra? and what are you hiding in your coat? is it a treasure given to you? or a baby given to you? or are you walking the paths of the thieves, you friend of the evil?“- truly, my brother! spoke zarathustra, it is a treasure given to me: a little truth it is i’m bearing. but it is wild like a child and when i don’t shut it’s mouth it’s screaming aloud. when i walked by myself today, at the hour when the sun went down, an old hag crossed my way, she said to my soul: „zarathustra spoke a lot to us women but never about us.“ and i answered: „about the women you must only speak to men.“ „speak to me, too,“ she said, „about the women for i am old and will forget at once.“ so this is what i told the hag: everything about the woman is a riddle and everything about the woman has one solution: it is pregnancy. the man is only a mean to a woman: the purpose is the child. but what is the woman to the man? the real man wants two things: jeopardy and joy. thus he wants the woman to be the most dangerous toy. the man shall be raised for war and the woman for the warrior’s pleasure, anything else is foolery. the sweetest fruit is not for the warrior, that’s why he loves the woman for still bitter is even the sweetest woman. better than a man the woman comprehends the child but the man is more childlike than the woman. the real man bears a child inside his heart, it wants to play. go girls, find the child that’s in a man’s heart! woman shall be a toy, pure and real, like a jewel, illuminated by the virtues of a world not yet to come. the light of a star shall glow upon your love! your hope shall be: „may i be the one to give birth to the super-man!“ in your love there shall be bravery! with your love you shall fight the ones who harm you. your love shall be your honour! for not much the woman comprehends of honour. but this shall be your honour: always to love more than to be loved and never to come in second.
man shall be afraid of the woman when she loves: she’s sacrificing everything and anything else is of no value. man shall be afraid of the woman when she hates: for in his heart he’s only bad but she is evil there. whom hates the woman most? – thus the iron spoke to the magnet: „i hate you most for you attract but are not strong enough to draw to you.“ man’s joy is: i will. woman’s joy is: he will. „look, right now the world is perfect!“ – thus the woman thinks when she obeys with all her love. and this is what she has to do, she has to obey and find the deepness to her surface. surface is the woman’s mind, an agile rousing film on shallow water. man’s mind though it is deep, his stream is rustling in subterraneous hollows. the woman can only guess it’s strength but she doesn’t understand. there the hag replied: „zarathustra spoke complimentary and especially for those who are still young enough. it’s strange that he doesn’t know the women but he is right! is it because there’s no such thing that’d be impossible about them? and now take this in thanks, my little truth, for i am old enough! wrap it good for if you don’t shut it’s mouth it will scream aloud, this little truth.“ „give it to me, woman, your little truth!“, i said. and thus spoke the old hag: „you go to women? don’t forget the whip!“-
thus spoke zarathustra.
roger is a one-way-ticket
roger put on her prettiest dress and went out in a desperate mood, desperate but open.
within an hour her situation was completely changed, she found herself moving in with a stranger who told her that he wants to help her. he said he could do the shiatsu with her to loosen her tensions.
she was lying on her belly trying to relax. he was sitting by her head wearing nothing but pyjamas, she could feel his loose balls and dick on her ears and her hair when he bent over to reach for her back. she didn’t like that too much but she thought, that’s what the situation is, i must endure. she did and now she’s living in a beautiful apartment in manhattan, with a guy who’s willing to give as much as he has, expecting nothing to get back. and he isn’t either, roger is a one-way-ticket.
ok pass auf. nachdem es aufgehört hat, so stark zu regnen, sind wir raus. hat aber noch immer geregnet und wir haben auf ner veranda halt gemacht, da stehen ja so viele häuser leer, weißte. jedenfalls sitzen wir auf der verandaa und unterhalten uns relativ harmlos, wie ich meine, ich tu mich ja noch ein wenig schwer mit dem slang. er fragt do you like dog meat? und ich sag dog meat? und er yeah dog meat. und ich i’ve never had dog meat, i don’t know, maybe not. und er you don’t like dog meat? und ich sag do you like it? have you had dog meat? und er schaut mich komisch an. er sagt so you prefer white meat? und ich sag i like white meat, versteh noch immer nicht, dann dämmerts mir, glaub ich zumindest und ich sag oh you mean dark meat! und er yeah DARK meat, so do you like DARK meat? und ich yes i like dark meat, sure. und er you wanna have some dark meat? i can give you some dark meat, lets go, i give you some dark meat. und dann erst versteh ich. ganz schön dämlich, wa? aber witzig.
My tired eyes
won’t see surprise
i have to weep
my name is jeep
I think it seems
I don’t have dreams
my life so sucks
my name is Max