Farewell to the beauty farm

Last appointment. Mop up shots. Surgeon was pleased with the scar development. Me too. Meant it, when I thanked him and the assistant.

Though it's still pretty funny touching the scars and especially grafts myself, somebody else touching them does feel nice. Also with regards to the synaestesia thingie with the one on top, feels like being thouched at other parts, too.

Anyways, am glad having them tumors off. Especially cause they just would've kept growing, I reckon.

As to the looks, yeah, well ...

Guess if I really strictly want going unnoticed, would be even more difficult covereing everything with a cap now. But what the f**k.

Funny, how actually it's still a bit like with the lumpies, though fairly more moderate. Especially from my point of view, i.e mankinds immediate reactions mostly beyond my ken. Filtered out automatically, no effort needed. Sweet denial.

Sweet irony as well, since I always got the impressions everybody more troubled about them than yours truly, actually mostly giving in to social pressure.

Peace-offering to all humankind, blablabla. Sorry didn't work out as nicely as it should've.

However, ahem, not exactly my fault really. Neither if you're still offended. Official license, now. Not guilty. Sorry.

Hehehe.

And yeah, though I could go for more surgery to make the freaky parts smaller, will just leave 'em as they are, thanks.

Surgeon was nice, also asked about the scar on the hand. The b*stard one, still handing out electric jolts, that is.

Himself he'd fared even less lucky. Fallen from from a horse, back broken. Though definitly lucky enough so the spinal chord remained unharmed. Still has to go wear a corset for half a year, since he's got no assurance for sickness daily allowance, as he said.

Copied me the whole folder with all my pix, also some I hadn't had before, so brace for an update at some point.

So, after 11 months in 'n' out, looks like I just left the beauty farm for good. Walking towards the bus stop, hit the air with both fists and turned the phones a bit louder than usual.

'No, *I* can't!' a.k.a. Help! Pt. 3

This is really cool:



'The Peak Load of Masculine Pride', from the Dave Allen Show. G'wan, click 'play'.

B.t.w. saw it first over at Pook's Mill. And though I appreciate plenty of his writings, reckon this time for whatever reasons he about just absolutely totally missed the point ...

(continued ...)

Ha! (Pt. 2)

Missed Part 1? You'll miss the context!

As it went, had second thoughts on the gratification issue soon enough. Cause, while winning any 'competition' might be kinda gratifying, obviously there's where I'd actually prefer being on the losing end. Like for, erm, obvious reasons this one, for example.

Since as mentioned, in average I'm rather used finding myself winning and definitetly not liking it at all, oh no. So didn't take too long me remembering that part painfully well, pondering if this'd be the beginning of 'back to normal'. Which, surprise, surprise, would've regretted big time.

But some things just seem to be too good to be true. And then soon enough there's this thought creeping up from the back of my mind, like, 'Sh*t, am I going to wake up pretty soon now, or yes?'

Which is just the kinda creepy stuff dedicated to turn any feeling of gratification from sweet to very sour in no time.

Cause any time I'm with a girl uninhibited enough of shamelessly making advantage of the gift of the female body and mind, it's just so cool. Like tapping into a delicious sweet well, feeling safe in the knowledge of no matter how much you can swallow, you'll never be able drying it up, no way. (And I also mean that quite literally.)

Ah, paradise and cockaigne all rolled into one, guys, I can tell.

Until she tires faster than me just once, obviously.

Dark clouds and thoughts threatening at the horizon, uh-oh.

Though didn't take her too long to teach me a lesson, not to mention restoring my faith in the seemingly unlimited female sexual supremacy.

I yield! I yield! MERCY!!!



PS: However, only last night, way into the wee hours, guess what?

Eventually heard her gasp 'no more', pulling my hand away again again ...

Ha!


(continued ...)

Mit Dir bin ich auch allein

Funny, how entering a new relationship tends bringing back memories of old ones. And how songs and especially lyrics can trigger memories, too.

Recently been listening to a lot of Rammstein, actually just got all their studio albums 2nd hand only yesterday. And while being into them mostly for the 'kick-ass factor' and the assorted sheer kinkiness, thus deploring how almost every record gets a wee bit to way wimpier than the one before, have to admit there's this uberwimpy song called 'Ohne Dich' (Without You) that touched me more than any other during the last few months.

While all Rammstein songs have this certain ambiguity (which they so shamelessly lifted from the truly underrated Slowenian band Laibach, amongst plenty other things), applying this technique so intelligently to a seemingly simple heartbreak-lovesong still is something else.

Especially four lines of the chorus really hit it home for me:


Ohne Dich kann ich nicht sein
Mit Dir bin ich auch allein

Ohne Dich zähl ich die Stunden, ohne Dich
Mit Dir stehen die Sekunden, lohnen nicht

(Without you I cannot be
With you I am alone too

Without you I count the hours, without you
With you the seconds stand still, aren't worth it)


Damn, that's a good part of my last relationship summed up in just a few brilliant words. (Which reminds me, some other parts on the downside having been lies, lies, lies, plus cheap 'n' weak excuses, but that's another story.)

While I'm usually listening to whole albums looped (ok, skipping some songs), have to admit 'Ohne Dich' is the one exception lately of me listening to the same song allover again for a while.

But yesterday was a crazy day anyway. Had this presentation to do early at the uni, and yup, as usually leaving everything just for the very last second, enjoying the adrenaline rush to the max. Only that while I was just about getting started preparing everything the evening before, my mate and some other folks more or less gently reminded me we'd also have to do the overdue press kit for our upcoming book presentation in Murnau Sat next week. And while I kinda had hoped I would be more or less spared of that, absolutely no way, not with this deadline. Just had to drop the preparation and cough up some of the other stuff beforehand, so that my mate could get the mailings out.

Took me till 3 am that I finally could get started preparing the handout, which I eventually finished about 6. Still hadn't read all of the stuff I was supposed to, but what the f**k, just would have to cheat myself along the essential parts. At least would be able catching up almost 3 hours of sleep before rushing out, in order to not looking too wasted. If not the shitty air lately had roughed up my nose, that is, feeling even more uncomfy as soon as I laid down. But who needs sleep anyway.

Not to mention emotional stability. Was in the tram uphill to the uni when the mentioned above lines really hit home. Tears running down my cheeks, sunglasses fogging up, the whole shebang. 15 plus minutes to go till my presentation.

However, was the first time in a while I was able crying not just for others, but really for myself, which made me just happy. Though while washing my head in the toilet before hurrying upstairs to the classroom, was a bit worried still might be just a little too obvious. But you know what? Everything went down just really cool, and nobody noticed either.

And though I was really knackered, especially after the 2nd course in the afternoon, don't get me started on what I was up to later in the evening plus half of the night ...

(To be continued ...)

Ladies, I feel for you

Actually just wanted to go to sleep. Which was why I turned off the lights before hitting the sack. But did I have any chance of just doing so? Hell, no.

Well, erm, depending on how you'd define it, perhaps sort of. But in the meaning as I had intended? No way. Not with this baby lurking under the blanket. Not the slightest chance in the world.

Despite the fact that I was still pretty worn from not so long ago. But did she care? Well, again depends on how you'd actually define that. Lets just say, by a certain definition I've to admit she actually managed succeeded doing so, erm, exhaustively.

And by far wasn't the first time that happened, too. Oh no. Nor will it probly be the last. Kinda the perfect gender role reversal.

Though, with regards to probly not the last time, I'll hasten to add, well, hopefully not!

Which is where the gender reversal analogy abruptly ends, 'mafraid.

(continued ...)

Just can't put my finger on what exactly

After showering, looking at my face in the mirror, examining how badly my hair needed cutting yet, suddenly got caught by something ... something I'd have to consider too ... but I just couldn't put my finger on.

Something that'd been perhaps, but what exactly again?

And despite the clue being perfectly visible on my forehead all the time, i.e. the scars and the graft there, took me an incredible while to finally get it.

The lumpies! Just like I already had kinda totally forgotten I ever had them!

Only remembering vaguely that there'd always been an additional effort cutting the rest of my hair around them, something I usually had to ask my mate to do.

Well, not anymore. Also not putting my finger on any of them literally, haha!

And you know what? Body fascist or not, no remorse. Not at all.

Pigs Galore UPDATE

Missed the original entry?

Halif just got his sentence in the mail, obviously posted on the glorious occasion of the fuehrers birthday:

6 months and 20 days, on parole for 2 years (out of the 9 months the DA wanted).

Despite the judge having acquitted him of 6 of the 12 original charges.

So far so predictable.

The only exception being that obviously it finally sunk in there's no money to get from him, so there was no additional fine, and even the two thirds of the 3000.-- costs for the trial he got nominally portioned got written off at once.

Whoa, must've been her generous day. Or something.

Ha!

I did it.

Incredible, but true: Eventually I made her say 'Stop'. Even pulling my hand away. And despite her playfully adding 'just for an hour or so', we both knew better.

Oh, make no mistake, not that I'd been capable of bringing it up again myself at that point, not even remotedly like. (More precisely, already last time that had needed more than just a wee bit of persuasion. But, no way stopping her then ...)

Not to mention we both had had a busy day behind us, plus another one just a few hours ahead.

However, I still would've been ready making this kitty purr and twitch and gasp once more no sweat, not to mention loving it. Actually going for it already, which was why she said 'Stop' in the first place.

And call me whatever names in the book you like, truth is, while both of us falling asleep fast, part of me felt some kind of silly gratification, putting an even slightly wider smile on my face.

Ha!


(continued ...)

Pigs galore

Friday went to the local court having a peek at Alex 'Halif' Moshe's latest twelve charges rolled into one trial. Kinda funny showing up there without being the accused myself, hawhaw.

Like plenty others, Halif got harassed and f**ked over by the Zurich Police on grounds that didn't even exist legally, and when insisting on them having no rights to do so, of course just got f**ked over again again. So far, so regular. But Halif being Halif, he just refused to 'get it' and shut up (as any 'reasonable' person would've).

Unfortunately did so in ways making it for the cops and their friends at the district attorney's offices pretty easy now f**king him over on kinda actual legal grounds for a change. Like by e.g. sending them lotsa less and less friendly emails, plus ringing them up regularly, also at their private homes. So in addition to the few days on probation plus 20'000.-- Swiss Francs he already got sentenced for last year, now the DA wants him to have another 9 months plus probly some 100'000s (good one, since Halif's already broke anyway).

Plainclothes Officer A.S. acting as 'agent provocateur' ...
© Anger 2002

To really justify the charges, the filth went for the whole show. I.e. gates 'n' coppers à discretion, people getting searched 'n' metal detectored, free mandatory cloakroom and so on. Plus contrary to what the judge told Halif's lawyer, were also asking for IDs plus putting names on file. Just another thing there's no legal grounds for, which is why I left mine at home just to begin with (incl. the mobile just in case).

However, didn't even bother not telling them my real name, and BINGO, 15 minutes later got plenty additional hits from the county coppers ISP on every homepage they got me on file for. Like the one you're reading, or this one, that one, and this one here etc, never mind all perfectly legal, even court-approved since of course they've already tried that one fer sure, but hey, who cares (links to english section usually top right by the way). Thanx, boys!

In total were 6 visitors in the court room (two more refused to give their names and weren't admitted, which, as even the judge had to admit later, was just plain illegal, but guess what, not that she really cared). 3 of the visitors btw being the copper who filed most of of the charges against Halif plus two of his mates, since he's sooo terrified and really feels threatened, literally 'fearing for his very life', as he'd told the DA.

[Yup, actually the very copper A.S. shown on the pics here, filmed Mayday 2002 on active duty 'infiltrating' demonstrators, trying to start a riot pretty hard but still in vain, not to mention intimidating innocent passers-by. And yes, just in case you might ask, my mate who did them pics of course got violently arrested for doing so hardly 10 minutes later, his glasses broken, camera confiscated etc. And despite the charges being 'creative' as usual, eventually our 'tough' union-lawyer just dropping the case as 'hopeless' due to all involved coppers lying unisono. After I picked up the case as 'layman defence counsel' since no pro would do so without seeing loads of money upfront, insisting on doing everything and especially the confiscations very strictly by the book, thank God the DA got so pissed off by such impertinence that she made some serious mistakes, plus then the coppers lying a bit too fancifully as well, so eventually the judge refused to accept the charges which thereafter were finally dropped. Needless to say A.S. and his copper mates were never charged ...]

So for the well-searched 3 civilian visitors plus the evenly well-searched 'extremely dangerous' defendant (as usual tried searching his lawyer's bag as well), there were no less than 19 heavily armed coppers at guard inside and in front of the courtroom. And yeah, surprise, surprise, as I had a good chance to witness, of the 6 admitted visitors only two had their names taken on file. I.e. just those civilians they already knew and/or suspected of being acquaintances of the defendant, that is.

When Halif's lawyer later complained about that and the judge seemingly surprised asked if this was really true, the boss-copper suddenly hastened to add, the remaining names would be added to the list afterwards. Couldn't help myself barely hiding a good laugh. These arrogant b*stards are just so ignorant! Like the copper guarding the notepad with the filed names, when the lawyer later asked if now all the names had been taken, brushing her off, 'I don't know'.

... and frightening passers-by, Zurich, Mayday 2002.
© Anger 2002

Unfortunately had to hurry on, so don't know the outcome of the case yet. Though probly pretty predictable anyway, innit?

Frankly, though I have myself well enough under control as not doing themselves the favour of getting provoked by these kinda games, deep down that's obviously still a bit different. Cause, when again doing our PigBrother Live Show in Freiburg i. Br. the next day, despite usually making a point of only calling them 'officers' or at worst 'cops' and as per usual arguing my case of not lumping all of them together, am afraid have to plead guilty of having thrown in two or three 'pigs' for a change.

Help! Pt. 2

Missed Part 1? You'll miss the pun!

Nah, seriously now. Don't know what kinda girls you might pull (or be), but in my life in 7 out of 10 relationships me always wanting too much sex too many times too often and for too long was an issue, not to mention one of the main reasons for them to eventually come to an end. While on the other hand I only once ever heard complaints of the contrary. (Well, I've to admit she was probly right about me being a pretty inhibited victim of the protestant working ethics at that point.)

The remaining other few, if truth be told, well, felt I was only just barely able putting up with their sex drive myself (and just for the record, that's not a complaint, especially not from a wannabe stud like me ;-). Means, yes, I do recall some brief moments of temporary exhaustion also from their part (hey, sometimes even for the rest of the night). And they also never complained bout me not being enough at it, but generally we're always very gentle and, ahem, supportive. But ...

But actually I never harbored too much doubt whether or not they'd consider me (or any other man) as a real competition regarding sexual appetite (not to mention living it).

I mean, hey guys, like it or not, obviously that's just the way nature-or-who-or-whatever arranged it, and I for one have no problem neither with the fact nor with admitting it, nor do I feel humiliated by it too much.

Contrary to playing the 'traditional' male role, that is. You know, the dumb guy who always wants and never gets, and especially not until he coughs up this or that in advance anyway.

Cause broken hearted or not, rather than playing stoopid like this, actually I'm better off alone (hehe).

(continued ...)

How could I ever forgive God? Pt. 1 (Tears are a gift from heaven Pt. 6)

The really hard death in my family was my grandfather's. Actually I wasn't supposed to even know about how hard exactly. Parents had told me not to visit him in hospital. Should've known better, but the truth is I'd been stupid, stupid, stupid and f**ked up enough to oblige. Same old, same old, same effin old. Though perhaps this is the one I regret the most.

It was early summer when he eventually died. And though that's another story, just a few more months to go till I lost my faith and unlearned crying for plenty summers to come.

Despite my parents still being very reluctant, at least went to see him in the local cemetery before he got cremated. The mortuary was such a nightmare by itself. Not like other places keeping the dead in coffins in a room so you could sit beside them or so, oh no.

The whole thing being more like a kind of a corridor in the cellar of the building, equipped with a row of little oval green porthole type of windows in one of the walls, directed downwards if I remember correctly. And there they were, behind behind those peek holes, obviously into a cold room. All you could was having a last distant look through the green window. Cold, fading light on cold faces.

What a place to bid farewell. So ugly and heartless, shut off and deader than dead already. Just like especially designed to pale my childhood fears of such places. Kinda even worse than the visiting room at airport prison, where you're only allowed seeing people through an armoured glass, at least there it's a huge transparent window (smeared with heartbreaking marks of lips and tiny little hands and fingers on the outside).

All I could see was his face kinda upside down, looking strange through this thick green glass. But even so it was plain to see it must've been really hard and very painful. Like he didn't smile at all. Still clenching his teeth, lips thin and tense.

Only found out about the details almost 10 years later, cause my then girlfriend by chance happened to be in the same hospital getting surgery when he'd died. Only after she told me what she witnessed there, I went back to my grandmother and parents, nagging them for the real story.

Some people have said I'm one in a million, but usually myself I'm not so sure about that. Cause he no doubt was, farmer's boy to CEO and all, and though I have some ideas where not only my bad temper and trademark stubborness but also my sense of integrity stem from, actually m'afraid I'm no match at all.

And while everybody admired and envied him for the more glorious and glamourous aspects of his life, personally I know pretty no one who'd been able standing in his shoes only for a year or two, let alone some decades.

Cause, though he could look so gentle and peaceful, especially with us grandchildren around, it's still from his face that I learned recognising this typical look of people who already were and / or still are going trough a terrible lot of also physical pain only by sheer willpower, and he went really far in about every sense of the word no doubt. And that was only the good times yet.

Cause God had saved His worst for the end ...

Part 2

Tears continued ...

Help!

I'm with this girl, and she's even more obsessed with sex than yours truly.

Never wants to stop, but always wants again!

Help!!!


(continued ...)

'Brain tumours' a.k.a. another thing I'll never get

Namely how many people obviously thought the lumpies would involve anything on the inside of my skull, like really physically, and why on earth they always came up with that. (Nor, supposed I had had them e.g. on my knees, if they'd also suspect them growing from of the joint itself?)

Just seemed to have this kind of effect on people.

Strange world, innit?

In Prague had met a girl who perchance had had a real one, one on the inside, I mean. On a gland being responsible for controlling the cycle. So, as she'd been on the pill, took a while for the tumor getting noticed. Luckily, could have it surgically removed in the end, the excision been done through the nose, and fortunately the tumour didn't grow back. Though, cause the gland didn't recover, she's to swallow hormones regularly anyways, ouch.

But you know what? There's nothing to see about it, geddit? Absolutely no visible scar. Even if she'd wear as little hair as me.

Not on the outside. Not in the flesh. So nothing you'd ever notice and even less gape at on the street, capiche?

Or only in a very different kind of another strange world, I guess.

All sexed up

There's one thing me and probly men in general just envy women for. And don't understand why most of 'em don't take more advantage of.

Yeah, reckon you just guessed it.

Unfortunately don't remember the name of the guy in the greek myth whom the gods turned into a woman and later back again, and who thereafter claimed women would be able to experience seven times more lust than men. [edit: it was Tiresias, check comments]

Considering how many times uninhibited girls can come one after another as compared to boys (rsp. the latter even within 24 hrs) I'd say sounds more like the understatement of the century to me.

Which for what it's worth is the reason why in bed (or wherever) generally don't mind giving her a headstart. For one, cause it turns me on and is a lot of fun, and two, the higher she's outta her mind already, the better it'll be for me too in my experience.

Plus the less likely she'll be inclined to call it a day rsp. night after just a few meager minutes or quarts of hours more.

Which of course translates into even more fun twice again.

Despite 'mafraid my stamina still being a wee bit behind that legendary couple an ex-girlfriend told me about usually being at it an almost incredible seven times a day.

(WARNING: Won't work with your average inhibited girl! Reckon you'll guess why just as well ...)

(continued ...)

Kinda incognito a.k.a. Almost human

(30th Oct. 2006)

It's really amazing how passers by just stopped staring at me for a change once I got the last bastards cut off and also don't have to wear dressings anymore, even despite there's still some coagulated blood on the top of them new scars.

Erm, as I just found out this evening on the bus from Whitechapel to Aldwych, at least people passing me from the front, that is.

Seated upfront in the upper floor, looking out at a bus stop, trying to figure which one it was, when I noticed some girls on the sidewalk, going on in the same direction as the bus, all of them suddenly turning their heads and staring at me!

Huh?

Only then realising, they'd just exited the bus, and yes, they'd been sitting some rows behind me, passing me as they went for the stairs.

Uh, so guess I know why I was getting them kinda eyes. However, as compared to non-cap situations earlier, reckon I can just live with that.

(to be continued ...)