2/29

Glued to about the tip of the orange juice bottle still damp the cheap white chocolate wrap and the twice-folded tissue paper God knows its use for sure and oh the black pot still plagued by a layer of varied dregs and scraps that are impossible to rid of even by hardpressing the sandwiching sponge whatever since yesterday or even much earlier I have been sitting here speculating about it two shattered crackers of the Deutsche Bank card I couldn't really pronounce must be it not an old habit but merely a screen that rotates transformers that used to flicker with the old image of purebred of hybred dog's head dipped in composure like the glass can of honeylemon tea from Korea I suppose it shall rather be citrus peels otherwise how the heck is it not sour and is honestly dissimilar to what was once instead the reused pickle bottle with their granny's big monochromatic printed slantly under the plastic foil it tastes just different you know I don't know though it ain't going to rot before delivery it's quite a pity such sumptuous amount squandered on believes or what not today is different I shall reassure myself because it's leap day hmm what a pastime the four streets to the front of which I remember the name of only one there are of course also two bars opening till well past midnight circa one or two in the morning isn't it illegal to do so in here as I strolled with my hands twisted deep down into the pockets of the new Wellensteyn surcoat was naturally a dap damp and I was for a moment concerned what about in a few months of time it starts to stink then wasting the two hundred thirty something euro however to circle plainly around the platz what was I thinking about what conclusions to reach too many complexities and life's dopey questions to arise everything is tangled and twined and threesomed together and no single way to put forth something of worth what is the worth afterall you swore you are gonna walk at least as much as the last day in Chengdu and it's not even one tenth of it now what always better to proclaim and disclaim than to convolve above this black seat oh just recalled the Korean girl she stayed here for one or two nights thought I could’ve had an affair with her like Husain did but I didn't text message anyone I'm here not to play Rainbow Six all day yet what else is worthwhile to pursue in the end buying a train ticket is too costly for him and tram ticket for me all excuses don't want to talk with you no more what if you shoveled yourself one day cannot permit still genuinely care for a person's life I will die for you and I will live for you what muddled heads of Radwimps accented Japs who's the Turkish friend let me Facebook him oh it's Ozan where he's up after the fat cats and also Atabak he must have come back from America and saw the dump there but didn't tell me didn't even complain has it gotten so awkward for everybody or in this society nobody gives a fuck to anybody oh now Luli she was thrown over how does it feel to have slept with me on this tiny bed a secret to shed below the blue mattress are gunks that cannot be vacuumed don't scold me I did try but sorry I shouldn't kick you during the night behind the shut door those two human beings what fun they are having what fun I haven't had the privilege to have since last year this year is 2016 tomorrow must be a sunny day this is my life fuck it kiss of a woman's bottom that baby unforgettable Friday with rain at the green building never got over it even the Auschwitz lady turned out fine everything will be fine tears on your face will dry you are so beautiful you will become so ugly no make-up please remember there's no pain your body cannot process laugh always laugh on laugh on and on and on holding hands irretrievably once I hear this song you happen to hear it also an honest coincidence seventy-five percent of the second anti-pickle gel is run down but the scent and smell and flavor covered by smoke but everything lucidly painfully it is my fault I concede it is my defeat I concede but no my soul is not broken either Fuse or things in the future I will one day stand firmly on the ground again to celebrate but I have missed it how could I have missed where is the gang now as I look around where are all the steps on the snow snow has melted long ago really and all the traces are gone please stop looking you should trust it regardless nothing in you is more important than you but you my heart is clogged I don't know should I return two cans of beefs no ramen left I should still laterwards travel to Rewe to fetch otherwise I will starve the can opener the protruding color covered on the cover the unmade beddings lie so sluggishly beside the sole window and the changing sky outside woke me up in the morning in the morning my face was brightened ouch benzoyl peroxide burn stretch the pajamas and all the willow catkins flying in the air above the shambles and wasteland the powerful time I dreamed of going to Peking of going to Harvard of in Jacobs and I am eventually here Gao is tolerating with him he is supposed to be my burden I incurred him bought him whisky thought he can be dependable but no you overestimate things the shaking heads in the cheap hotel punk rock you may have never known it is inertia you know in the rose garden when the natural gas hasn't come no carrots haven't you mentioned before to me that it is harmful and dearly beloved till this day hypocrisy controversy heresy in the emergency room are you worried I certainly was not Ja Chinese dialects after all these seasons my back is bent my feet are puffy the aerated basketball I don't play albeit the court is just a minute away I don't know why I no longer play it from the big room I can see but from here it is not possible he told me I can move back but how can I move back there are no backsies everything is arranged decided determined guided settled here and it would be costly to revert them all back is it not I am not going to eat China Express Hong Kong Express again or I would but to what ends in what moods should I be doing it how was the cigarettes I apologize for my departure please don't feel anything I would haven't existed a few centuries later even with Alcor bet consolation prize red mausoleum street side vendor vending machine toll taker banker politician aging grandmother all of these recluses you won't understand you just won't but what's up with this what's up with these crying and mourning what's up with these striking piano keys what's up with these photos in Google Photos are they just rites is life just a set of rites we consciously obey for no better reason than the very obeisance itself finished downloading eleven times and all of those bumper stickers no today is not today is different last year today I haven't done a thing the chopsticks the bowl the nail clipper the red button string on the other shirt I still haven't discarded those shirts simply because I can't afford to replace them see us in poverty have something to feel proud of but listen listen you dickhead don't listen to those people you are gonna be alright on your own you are alright already I promise later this day I will be circling the platz yet again and glancing westwards o' so many things are always there the west my neck is a bit stiff while the dumpling bar's moved in well maybe just maybe from tomorrow I will all of a sudden change shape to live up to the sight of supermarket I'd mostly definitely not be able to know you in the coming months who pretends to tell the difference between a naked mute and a plated wack those two Brits though it was such elegance much education that ain't gonna fit my fried rice with egg too much rice too much egg too much salt but hey it's pretty decent filling enough carbohydrates for a day's need my brain is still functioning soundly and I have not taken multivitamin pill in days in a row and why are you wailing is the world crumbling isn't it another ordinary week of the ordinary people naturally explode spontaneously eyes popping out this is our fate I'm told the very moment everything becomes clear all hath been coincidences without tomato spice pointless to buy eggs any more actually bought ExpressVPN fruit cans Netflix renewal six unrecyclable bottles of fifty percent orange juice bought everything to my satiation see I will have nothing to purchase in the near future but let us just wait and see the luggage is open I still fail to figure out why it was so heavy in the first place big eyed in black coat like I do kedai with you no negativity I'm severely drought no matter how much I force myself to drink no I said no I will not perhaps but what comes after that no I don't want to I'm so sorry but I shan't I can't I won't the telephone has rung again somebody's knocking let him open up the door and greet hey man very nice to see you have a good day peace out luv you and the price has gone up inexplicably unfortunately too bad.

2/19

Around the corner was the architectures' abode. Open the tattooed main door and to the right was it, with 2 refurbished mailboxes in great contrast with the replastered Berninger and Luc and Steffen. Through the window from my hasty steps, a pair of hands stroke down on a computer whose keyboard is unseen. Unperturbed, I opened the stiff door and trek in with a joint of three tomatoes, ten eggs, and a can of bubbled bamboo shoots. The apartment is on the fourth floor as usual. And today, is another tomato egg soup experiment, with sesame oil.

Rewe is still, not too far away from here. The nasty spot runner with his owner lies parallel on the ground and obsequious. While at the same moment, whoa, Berlin. And all of its clarity of air, click of pumps, and the swooshing-over of cars. 2016! Noted! Three euro sixty-two cents from my MasterCard credit card. And I stepped, rigidly, in my new leather shoes from Galleria Alexanderplatz. There appeared to be a pain, mild enough to be contained, and acute enough to be occasionally felt. It didn't matter too much. I am a man worthy of a decent, gentlemanly gait, and hence would gallop in disregard. I advanced smoothly and softly on the ragged gravel, with the black backpack full of groceries for the indulgence of this day, penis to the left of groin.

Oh well, damn, I say, yet aglad, after all, in spite of the grumbles and hassles, I am indeed back, neither color blind nor amputated, neither starved nor oppressed, only in chronically the same spot, where no cigarettes are lit and no farewell bid. In this cordial, glass-wrapped, steel-coated, aromatized room I awaited. And routinely, I thrice fondled the black cat in her neck. Let us heat up the oil, let it crackle, and pour scattered egg wash on it to calm, and stir well with the tomatoes to serve.

Tomorrow, I revolved, at 10 I must prepare myself, to pop the acnes, to drink the juice, to sit loosely in front of the laptop, and the most important of all, to spray some Axe Black deodorant. It shall be a solemn occasion in which both of us smile and calculate and nod agreeably. But, that can't go extremely well. Since you see, we haven't met, our microbes haven't synchronized, and from the nature of it, no veritable promise is to be made, and no heart-felt emotion is to be welcomed, what remains are only greetings in the moment when uttered, both of us would strive with the decades of respective training to make it ever so cute and neat and soul-crushingly affable. Seriously, Is it not, ma'am? After all, we are just making a living.

I then bent forward to glean. On the wooden tiles were the ashes, and plugged onto the handle was the foolhardy receipt sent with the longings from days ago when I haven't decided to leave. It sat snugly in the crevice, spurned with dust whenever people walk by, enlivening to decay. And there it is again, the twitch. Undaunted in my usual proclivities, I patted gently, to the aged romance in the movies. A procession of resignation in time, stripped of awe, rested on the soft-touched office chair. And I swayed in the old rhyme, rattling and feasting away.

From the everlasting to the everlasting, stories go by. In my ears now is Apple Music I subscribed for 9.99 dollar since two months ago. It blasts out of my flashy Razer Adaro DJ headphones connected to my swapped iPhone 6 Plus, loud and impassioned. The lamps out there have been eternally bright; the people have been eternally asleep; and by the time they wake up:

This is another of the endless days. And tirelessly in the afterglow, the cantor sings.

2/8

The door was struck open. "What for, Christian?" Buried under the hush of his bunk, he cried, "Don't you see me asleep? Now my dream is crooked!"

Nevermind, it's mid-day already after all. The sky was aglare without a sun. He held out his hand for the heater and promptly flinched. Beneath, cars were all sloping by. Only a few. Tires jostling against the ground. And he stood up to a hasty halt - "Damn this. Good morning! This is, Berlin. Again, quite right." There isn't a thing as crisp and melodious as a trumpet call back in reality. But he jittered for a second, and slumped back. Bored with his fatiguing smartphone screen, ain't got nothing to do. The Red Dead Redemption guy, he minded, was still next door, behind the eerily green city map and a layer of painted wood, hands hemmed in girlfriend. Hehe he smirked, "human tackiness", and resumed unto his screen, red and green and blue lights blasting unto his face.

But, because, you see, even on Quora, it's all lottery, and he's got an adiabatic black pot and a white plastic box with a red lid, hence all the belongings, he's got nothing genuinely to squint for - a multivitamin pill with rice, keeps a doctor away. Even not, he did not pay Techniker Krankenkasse for nothing. "To have something to bite, or to read, or not, into a navy blue money can. Fill it up, fill it up you fool." He hopped vainly under the shadow of sofa. The floor vibrated, the Spanish danced - the skirt forever white, the smile forever warm and a shredded green onion towered in the mug.

A little fume in the toilet as the light went out, he kowtowed under the flashbulb, proudly and painstakingly. Love him! Scrub it! There you go, hot and lubricated, not a cut in two decades. And the shaft is almost visible, yellow lights and a brownish silhouette, and the scratchy cat that always refuses to enter. Wow, dare you to go through.

Psst, shush, quiet, be considerate, after the Indian movie, stuffed in the short couch. And he proceeded on his heedless Apple Keyboard on Windows. No Rainbow Six: Siege today. Nothing. This plainness, nearly resigned, motherfuckers on the brink. He then made a grab on the mouse, to click through things. "It is on you, Mr. Ciaran. Totally on you." He squibbed, and guiltily lowered his head into a larger chunk of seasoned light. Remember when? The old days or whatever. It used to be clearer, even without glasses. Huh? Now there's not a way to clean, a back hum, tripping and resonant. O' Clara. Why? So tell me. Tell me yet another time, before letting it on to be modest and kind.

His arse, since two weeks, had been scorched. His back leaned on two glasses, where moisture condensed. His cloth, the same one, darkened by daytime. The breeze came in, and the shirt slightly swang. He covered his face as if someone out there was looking. Keep it on. Keep it tidy. Keep it like the old days, like the woolly hat. Stand up still like a man. Calm and young and fearless ahead, mudded and afresh. His pair of thinly chubby legs and his fingers were in company. Hung on the wall was yesterday's rim.

It was then remembered that, for this day, an old man once stood here, his neck pouchy and his jaw loose.

But triumphant.

2/3

Perhaps my lack of inspiration is not that I'm no longer capable of writing, but that there genuinely isn't very much to write about an ordinary person's life. Nonetheless, it remains my desire to keep some track of it.

From the snowy gravel in the suburbs of Bremen to the tattoo-filled wall downstairs from my apartment in Berlin-Mitte, I seem always to be reveling in the same sense of content. I surely ain't one of those people whose daily routine is packed with emails and appointments - factually speaking, I don't even have a mode of living that can be called a routine. But I am those who, when hearing others say "he does nothing; he just drifts along", would secretly gloat - see, my life is unburdened - I have no internships to look for, no tragedy in life to cope with and no family food to miss. What else could I be asking for then?

Berlin is not a difficult place to live in. Within minutes of walk, there are an Indian restaurant, a coffee shop, and a basketball court. Although I don't usually go to any of these places, having them available in my proximity empowers me, that one day, dressed in duffle coat and calf shoes, I might spend a Saturday's afternoon in the coffee shop reading. And for now, it is not bad as well. Through the slightly smudged window to my left, I can see the yellow, complacent light coming out from the penthouse across the street - Fehrbelliner Straße it's called, with the swanky German pronunciation of the word " Straße" as if "Stalin". I would sometimes also play piano out of my laptop loudspeaker. For some reason the sound from a loudspeaker is even more vivid than from my 300-euro stereo headphones. Though often I don't understand the titles of the pieces and don't know how to read the names of the composer, my taste in piano, I could assert, is quite tolerable.

Today was one of the few days that I traveled to the more western part of the city - usually the westernmost I go is Alexanderplatz, for the corporate finance lawyers with the first complimentary hour. The conversation was pleasant. He appeared to be very intrigued by my business, and I strive to be very knowledgeable about his legal issues. I drank a glass of orange juice, and another glass of mineral water, and noticed that the window view of Raue LLP is rather magnificent - it is almost the whole panorama view of the Berlin skyline. Even the heaters in the office looked different. I promptly fetched up my cellphone and snapped a picture - too bad the lighting was not correct.

And it occurred to me, to what end was I in the office? If, like the peaceful schoolmates of mine, I stayed in the university and never left, where would I be instead? Not Berlin, evidently, perhaps Bremen, for another year or two until I graduate or my family runs out of money. Yet I was here, standing by the window of the more upscale office building of Berlin, with a glass in hand. Although after 40 minutes of meeting I eventually had to take the U-Bahn back home, back to where everything is reduced to a bag of clothes, a laptop, and several bottles of apple juice. But in me there's much more than just the photograph I've taken, there's also the freedom of having fought.

Therefore, a penthouse or an unfurnished apartment, an upscale office building or a room that isn't mine, a full set of three-piece suit or a Jeep shirt with an oversized Marktkauf discount coat, it doesn't matter to me anymore. For however this turns out, I would have the reassurance that I've been there, done that.

May God bless me and Fuse.