Liiiiiiiife.

whatever, I spit it out.

[ijustwriteyouread]

of mad and men

I work in advertising. With creatives, directors and divas. Clients and suppliers. Nerds and techies. Sounds good, ah? Man, we used to be mad. We used to be mad men. We used to be proud of what we do, of opportunities, developing brands, networks, overtime, life, like-minded colleagues and ambitious projects. We had great expectations, we felt we offer something to the world. And to see your work on a bill board or in a magazine paid you back for all the pain it caused. Today 60% of my time go into pleasing someone. Instead of strategic derivations and concepts that demand brainpower, I navigate through individual sensitivities, I sugar-coat, persuade, liaise, work on rather process- than result-oriented but agile tasks, press questionable matters into words that sound smart and contentful. Today we run after a train lacking leadership, but which is full of mediocre ideas, of requirements and regulations, hygiene standards and sustainable solutions. And you.need.to.be.the.first. And I think: Of course this world had to come after us. It probably was about time for the business to change, for long. What the fox do we contribute? What part of the business stays? I can name several trends and media channels. But first, let me quickly ramp up the slide about short-term objectives for the meeting at 3pm.

[ijustwriteyouread]

Ich wache nachts auf, weil mich die Gedanken an den letzten Tag nicht loslassen. Oder vielleicht bin ich auch gar nicht richtig eingeschlafen? Manchmal weiß ich den Unterschied gar nicht mehr. Entweder ist es die Arbeit - dann hatte ich keine ruhigen Momente um Dinge zu durchdenken. Oder ich rekapituliere Gespräche im Kopf und überlege, was ich hätte anders sagen sollen, wie ich hätte besser mit einer Situation umgehen können. Oder es sind übergeordnete Themen - dann habe ich eine Angelegenheit schon zerpflückt und suche nach der Ursache, einer unangenehmen Wahrheit oder Gefühlen, die ich eigentlich verdrängen will, etwas, was jemand gesagt hat, oder wie er es gesagt hat.

Oder ich höre in meinen Körper - ich versuche eine Momentaufnahme und analysiere meinen Zustand um versuche daraus mein Befinden abzuleiten undue Unzufriedenheit zurückzuführen.

So oder so, es führt selten zu etwas. Konkrete Dinge kann ich benennen und erledigen, manchmal auch noch in der Nacht niederschreiben. Alles andere dreht sich im Kreis und sollte durch das Drüberschlafen hoffentlich morgen an Bedeutung verloren haben. Solange es nicht regelmäßig wiederkehrt, kann es warten.

Ja, sag das mal meinem Verstand.

[ijustwriteyouread]

dating while corona

What has changed? The dishwasher runs daily, which it never did before. The washing machine less though. First time in weeks I dare to go to the post office. Yeah, sorting stuff out and selling it online finally pays off. I confess, I did a big online shopping tour myself the other day. So it’s more the financial conscious I need to trick here. I prepare superfood, I yell at the kids in need of more discipline, I force myself to youtube-sport-sessions, I feel like in slow-motion sometimes (which is nice), I even overslept once. So, considering these small aspects that have actually changed, or let’s say they morphed into a new shape, I wouldn’t say, there are striking differences. Among my colleagues I see a lot of variety in terms of perception of the new situation, and also in the way they handle it. Signals go from overwhelmed to new freedom, from red-eyes to flourishing skin, from boredom to ignorance to humor. I call these emotional highlights. Learnings for me in the context of acceptance and appreciation of all different kinds of personalities. It’s my personal social study. Speaking of people - some are surrounded by family, some couple around, some single-ride everything out. I was wondering how dating works in times of Corona. Can someone please tell me? Are tinder download numbers now comparable with those of Teams and Zoom? Or do tinderers even use both, in order to first-meet online instead of analoguely (does that word even exist?)? Is it a chance to save time in the phase of getting-to-know-each-other? Because that’s what I’ve heard, that people whose tinder-enthusiasm declined, said, that they find it very exhausting, time-consuming and even -wasting, to have to meet up with a PoI (Person of Interest), just to find out, if you actually like to continue with this ‘relationship’. Does a video chat now replace a personal meeting? I guess we’re all currently figuring out, how certain applications can ease our stay-at-home-pain. And maybe we’re longing even more for personal contact, for eye-contact through a clear view and not through lenses or data packages. Or maybe social distancing is a chance to get a better idea of those matters. The personal ones, including everyone’s time management and emotional engagement. Enjoy digging those up!

#corona #homeoffice #virus #corvid19 #datingwhilecorona #generalthoughtsoncorona #stayhealthy #mentalhealth #microsoftteams #zoom #tinder #socialdistancing #datingapps

[ijustwriteyouread]

The bird moment.

Because I cannot tell you anymore... it’s about you. What you said to me and how you said it. This is why I find myself in this tension. When you asked whether it’s about sex. I thought about it and figured, no, it’s you. It’s your beautiful mind. And that you were so cool with me, too. That you tell me what I shouldn’t do. I like you being so open and honest. You get me. This turned you into sexy. Your magic. Our connection. There wasn’t enough time to discover the whole you, so I narrow my eyes and I instantly listen to ‘steal my sunshine’. I laugh at the happy video. I hear your voice, try to remember your words, the questions you asked. How you wanted to be close but couldn’t. Your moves along the music. My hand in yours. Your soft beard and hair. Most of all how you looked at me. I look at my souvenir and I have no idea what you wrote on the back, even you told me. I see your hands playing. Dutchie. I see your tired smile, feel your hands on my back pressing every 5 cm. There’s this poor and weird vagrant cat around our feet, that wanted to participate in the hug. I hear you telling me that I’m pretty. The bird.  My heart is hurting. I drink. I can’t eat. I lose it with tears. I get lost in thoughts. I don’t talk about it. I just feel it. I miss you. Fuck, it hurts.

[ijustwriteyouread]

If I was in Vegas, I‘d come here in the morning.

Ugo Rodinone, Seven Magic Mountains

Looking at these colours, I can feel the cool air on my skin, smell the desert dust, listen to the breeze, enjoy the silence of an early morning. And my heart opens for the day ahead.

[ijustwriteyouread]

the weekend conqueress

an adequate theme for this weekend is still pending I guess, but for the former idea to be continued... there were friends. and there was music. as there always should be. I was hassling a long week with changing visitors, with obligations and long talks in between, I felt I was handling expectations all day long. nothing of it fulfilled myself or helped sooth my own restlessness. I just wanted to close this week, but was traveling to the capital to party. upon arrival there were more talks, in the way where you have to deliver what people whom haven’t seen you in a while want to hear. friends, and family of friends. it was getting weary. but someone saw sparkles in my eyes. in the morning I stole Frank’s bath robe from the hanger, put it on and jumped on their bed to play Uno with them. no, this is what my children would have done. I waited till Nicola said I should finally sit on their bed. we chatted, I told her what’s going on. we had breakfast, the English uncle arrived, we went out to do some window shopping. when asked, I tried on those dresses but felt absolutely nothing. I think the week just wore off all my feelings for fashion, too. we had pizza. back at the house, more family and friends arrived. we drank till I was picked up by other friends who happened to be in town. we chatted, we ran errands, we met with another old friend and his family to finish the dinner they didn’t. we went to the smallest disco ever seen, in a telephone booth, which was fun. we drank more, we smoked weed, we went to the birthday party I initially came for. I met more old friends there, what a relief to talk bullshit, to not have to pay attention to the well announced band. all those vigorous efforts. more food, more drinks, more talks. no news. no feeling that there might be something happening that can trigger this switch. the one that might lead again to those sparkles in some way. after leaving the party I shed off that borrowed coat. maybe that was the reason I felt no excitement but automated boredom in my own little world? maybe that coat had protected me from all good that could have happened? nevermind. I took a hot shower and went to bed.   the next morning I missed having a hangover and didn’t know with what to fill that gap. I just wanted to leave my own mind. handling my self expectations I facetimed with the kids, packed my stuff and went to meet other old friends. one was longing for sparkling news, one was in this peaceful state of mind, the kind you could sit with for hours and say nothing, or have thousand words together that would just fly off. what got me lifted was the 4-year-old who kept asking very personal questions and who seized my heart. a writing job at the airport occupied my mind and transited the way home. where visitors were waiting, kids tumbling and cracking, the whoosh of what I had just left behind, started rustling again. where another bottle of wine and the new week waited to be kicked off.

[ijustwriteyouread]

...und 5 Meter weiter war das Schaufenster

Wieder so eine Zufallsbegegnung mit Dir. Auf der Strasse. Du telefonierst, ich warte. Wir sehen und tauschen uns kurz aus.  Dann biegst Du ab zur Bank und ich laufe an diesem Laden vorbei. Mit dem Schild in der Auslage: STOP and Kiss.

[ijustwriteyouread]

some doubts about

Was rede ich für selbstloses Zeug? Mag ich Dich bereits auf eine Art, dass mir Dein Wohl als Freund wichtiger ist? Gestern dachte ich noch, wer nimmt mich an der Hand und sagt mir wie man’s macht im Leben? Weißt Du was ich eigentlich will? Dass wir das gemeinsam machen. Dass Du vertraust. Dass Du es zulässt, dass da jemand ist, der vielleicht passt, der gut tut, der auffangen kann, und der auch Dir vertrauen will. Dass Du uns Glauben schenkst und Deine Zweifel über Board wirfst. Das ist alles sehr groß, und mir macht dieser Gedanke sehr viel Respekt. Ich will wissen, ob Du das mit mir teilen willst, ob da ein Wir ist, bevor ich mich mit weit reichenden Themen beschäftige, die mich mit meinen Absichten verstricken. Was musst Du zunächst wissen? Ob es ginge? Ob Du alles andere ausblenden kannst? Ob ich es wert bin? Traust DU Deinem Gefühl nicht? Dann trau meinem. Wo bin ich in all dem? Was sind meine Wünsche? Ich habe auch keine konkreten Vorstellungen. Ich will spüren was durch meine Gedanken fährt. Ich will leben. Durchs Leben rutschen. Verweilen. Weiter klettern. Fallen. Lachen! Mit dem Komplizen.

[ijustwriteyouread]

sometimes I should cry

Yet I don’t wanna feel sadness anymore.  A new layer of sadness over an old diminishing one. What it does though, it covers the old sadness almost completely, with a soothing coat. (Does this make it a better sadness? I don’t know.) Yet I don’t wanna feel helpless anymore. When it comes to emotions, there is no help. There is just yes or no. And let go. (I should patent this rhyme). This last thought obviously isn’t exactly true. People feel, but don’t know in what direction those feelings linger. I can’t tell exactly my feelings about you, but I have a guess, and I’m suppressing it. It might make me feel vulnerable. Yet I wanna be brave and generous. I want you to take this time. And find me. Sadness doesn’t fit in here. 

[ijustwriteyouread]

(artwork by Jay Freestyle) The truest associating image I found aligning with my thought, of us people, wandering around at night. Free and roaming.

[ijustwriteyouread]

Immer wenn ich dieses Plakat auf der Autobahn sehe, denke ich: Jens, Du Lutscher!

[ijustwriteyouread]

the idea of

The more I think about it, the less it might be (of) interest.

When I asked a friend what flirting means, she said: You evoke the idea of something, something like being together. What when unintentionally? What if you actively flirt but know subtly... and you still do it? What if this is, what it’s all about, but nothing else? Can you break a flirt and recover it or from it? You can kill it completely, and survive, but all the magic will be gone.

[ijustwriteyouread]

music and friends

Since everything has calmed down here in the West, I drift on the swirling surface of the pool of ignorant easiness. Okay, this sounds very serene and detached, maybe it‘s rather the pool I‘ve been thrown into as part of the evolution of my non-existing attempts to own it.

While the days feel busy, the nights seem short and of too much thinking. Impossible to close a day in itself, transitions simmer constantly, mindful moments are rare but show event character: for everyone great, just not very personally me.

When thinking about how I mostly spend my time, I figured it‘s always the weekends I try to escape, to feel more of myself, to connect. So they deserve more attention: a regular recap and a theme, retrospective.

This weekend was all about music and friends. My best friend spent an eternity in the car to come pick me up, so that we could go and see Fat Freddy‘s Drop in Cologne. We both hustled through this day, spend even more hours in the car, changing clothes on the way, exchanging latest news. Memorising the last concert we went together, we took the same selfie, let go off the everyday-world and dove into the tunes. Audience, vibes, second-hand smoke, craziness of 5 different music genres- all perfect.

On the way home we started playing our favourite songs to each other.

Wait, we stopped at another club, but this was more a friendly gesture than musical inspiration.

After a late morning, fresh air and some good Vietnamese food, we played our shazamed songs by turns to each other, in order to make new playlists we could share then afterwards.

Late night fun. Low eyelids during Marley‘s movie. Exchanging silly music video tips through WhatsApp.

The next day she left and new old friends stopped by.

A good weekend. I didn‘t miss anything, I felt global funk around me. Unifying New Zealand, Vietnam and Laos in bits, Australia and the good peeps from Germany. My personal global world localised.

And then my friends in Spain asked if we wanted to spend Christmas with them.

[ijustwriteyouread]

Spacebound

When life puts you shot gun, points fingers at you and make you lose your emotions... even you regained strength, it still doesn’t mean you’re ready. So let them point fingers for other reasons, enjoy what you do, but don’t mess with what tells you, you’re free and that it’s okay to play with the fire.  I lost myself. We couldn’t help it. Everything was so in sync, so close. Perfect. We spoke with honesty, being realistic but totally crazy about each other. And then we got back to reality.   I always used to be a very rational person. How do I deal with this? I seriously let something go that was so good. I did. That does not make any sense and yet. I don’t like being blind or blinded. The pictures in my mind made me weak.  Hub forward and almost back in the driver’s seat. And yet struggling with another character. Challenged by these eyes every single day. Whatever this is, everyone is orbiting around something. Crashing or not.

[ijustwriteyouread]

What we loved to call fashion or Is it just me?

Fashion. An ever evolving and itself repeating concept. Fancy, inspiring, classic. A woman‘s daily companion, a comforting world we can easily get lost in. Since one, or maybe two years I seriously wonder, no, I‘ve been struggling with that concept and I don‘t know if I can take it seriously anymore. (No, it‘s not my age.) 1. I‘m talking about supershort pants, which are so short, that the inner pocket will come out underneath and hang around your thighs like a broken seam. (And yes, there are collections I‘ll simply let pass. But I also wouldn‘t have worn that when I was younger and still luscious). 2. Or shirts, blouses, blazers, that have no shape, not line, no figure anymore. Just a square box to hang loose around a body. In Hulk size. 3. For a pattern mix lover this should be heaven, but with the exception of a few couture brands that still shape an extraordinary female line, lots of fabric parts look just randomly sewed together. Like when I would have worked on a patchwork blanket. And the worst is the combination of 2. and 3. What were those designers thinking?! Would you call it fashionable that people now do not wear proper socks in winter? Do I really need to see those bare ankles with blue blood vessels shimmering through, when it‘s obviously minus 3 degrees and not an adequate season for sneakers? What happened to boots? Or maybe I should ask, what happened to fashion with purpose? And please do not forget sense. I really miss the beauty of small details like matching colours, like innovative cuts around feminine curves, like carefully chosen fabrics that go harmoniously together and underline each other’s benefits and not impress by cheap left-over-looks missing taste and style. Designers have always pushed to the limits, it’s basically what they do. But when every project runway candidate has more delightful compositions to show, than what you see on the streets everyday, there should be an encouraging rereinvention of what we LOVED to call fashion.

[ijustwriteyouread]

Poetry Schlamm

Wenn Dich ein Wort beschreibt, Dann ist es Inspiration, mit Verlaub, Wie Dich alle Freunde beschrieben Und Du so stark in Erinnerung geblieben. Du hast sie alle berührt - Wirklich jeder hat diese Energie gespürt. Das muss man mal erfassen. Wie viel Großes Du hast hinterlassen.  Wie viel Du getragen hast in einer Zeit Die Dir selbst am Schwersten war. Denn keiner ist bereit. So früh zu gehen. Da war der Tag an dem Ich den Gedanken kennenlernen musste dass das irdische Leben jetzt ohne Dich ist. Und der Himmel an dem Morgen leuchtete in allen Farben.  Als hätte er Dich begrüßt. Und gewusst. Die Leere, die Qual, die ängstliche Panik in den Augen der Kindern. Die Trauer, der Wunsch, dass Du dennoch irgendwie bei uns bist,  Um diesen Schmerz zu lindern.  Ich finde immer noch keinen Sinn.  Du bist verschwunden hinter diesem Monster, dass Dich aufgefressen,  Dass Dich besessen, Deine Seele in sich gekehrt Und mitgenommen hat.  Was Du erfahren und ausgehalten.  Und doch war es so so viel mehr, Dein Leben.  Eine unglaubliche Freude. Ich bin mir sicher. Es war so positiv. Was Du hast gegeben.  In einem fort und ganz unschuldig eigennützig. Hast Du Dich von Freundschaft ernährt.  Wir alle sind doch kleine Lichter, Und verspüren dennoch jetzt so viel Dankbarkeit.  Und es lässt uns wachsen, es wird davon gezehrt.  Zu wissen was wir an Dir hatten.  Wir versuchen den Abschiedsschmerz mit Dir zu begraben,  Und uns nur selten den Gedanken zu gestatten Wie sehr Du fehlst.

[ijustwriteyouread]

Finde keinen Titel, der so schön ist wie diese Zeilen.

deine hände voll zerbrechlicher zeilen, die du trägst, gegen die unerträglichkeit deiner zeit. sie gehen vorüber, an deinem schlecht gebauten haus, zerbrechen deine fenster, ohne hindurchzusehen, kennen keine deiner zeilen. und du gehst immer umher, in ihren feldern, aus gelbem gras. flüsterst deine schreie in den himmel. lässt deine verse überhören, schickst sie mit dem wind und jagst deine leiden, denn sie machen dich gelassen, am ende. du bist nie mit den wolken gezogen. sinnlos, leicht und weich.   du warst an orten, von denen ich absprang, hast auf mich gewartet, an den orten, an denen ich sein würde. du sahst mit zu wie ich kletterte, an allen fassaden die wir hatten. du hast mein lächeln geteilt, du hast mein lächeln gefunden, in meinem selbst im schlaf unruhigen gesicht.