madhatter’s coffee.

many people. nervous laughter, a multitude of bodies, surging and quivering from one end of the hall to the other. a quivering, foraging, hectic collective; nervously frightened to miss something, frightened to be late. a human jelly greedy for more.

how much? i observe some governor, his chaps wincing, like he is trying to keep his spittle. how much. he fingers over the instrument, presses the releaser, fumbles for a lever. how much. hurried glimpse back, over gray bald heads and some isolated pony tails. how much. glimpse forward. view-finder-perspective. blinking. how much. five. the others as well. quivering jelly. persons dropping out of the mass, fingers clinging desperately to plastic bags. rushing, havering on stilettos. back. next one.

…you’re still talking with those gays of gays…

i am gay. that’s the true opinion of someone, i don’t know. of someone who doesn’t know me. nevertheless, he read my texts and just a second later i was able to read, what the smartest modern medicine wasn’t able to see. of course, i’m gay.

the obvious signs of this facts are my irrefutable habit to not to talk about shit, the clearly abuse of four-letter words in my daily statements of life and the idea that not talking about sex makes it much easier to do it. well.
and certainly it’s gay to talk about my inner life and do this without laughing about someone else. any objections?
but, the whole world is gay, for nobody today is really cool, nobody is able to do hard things like men do. and i mean real men. nobody likes to be mean, no one, yeah, no one else is as mean as … well. i am not mean. at least, not mean enough.

is the first day of the end of your life. grim fandango.
well. so let’s start, hell doesn’t look so bad. in fact, it’s a day with the sun so bright in the sky, that i rather wish, there would be no sun. i mean, well. everything keeps going wrong. as usual. again, there was no telegramm, telling me that some marvelous coincidence made me a ceo of this country’s fourth largest newspaper. and i was so intelligent to give fifty bucks to mister i-need-it-more ’cause me was too dumb too look at the right signs.

sometimes. sometimes, one wishs, he had never existed. do you know this feeling? sure, you know it, you’re the one who’s worse than me [remember?] well. sometimes, i just wish, i could simply walk away, starring pathetically at some distant point and mumbling “hey, what kind of cursed guy’s this? i don’t know him, no i don’t know him, yes i don’t know him.” yes, sometimes i wish i could be somebody else & i cannot.
yet, in meeting some of nastier customers, i tend to ask myself, if those strange figures aren’t actually some of those, who made my dream come true. maybe some ideosyncratic scientist, overwhelmed by an undeserved genius, invented a method how to leave your cursed body and let him suffer his pains, while you can go to some nice funeral and eat as much cake you could hold within your stomach… without anything deserving this naming.
well, and those contemporaries of mine are… or, well, are not those cursed bodies tumbling around, making hell a place, much more worse than … ahm. well. than hell.
the question is, what to do with this poor creatures, hanging around and talking very nice things nobody wants to listen to, while their egos hang around at a nice funeral? maybe, they are ruling the world already, and me for myself does not want to me ruled by some brainless funeral-missing creature. that could be, by the way, an explanation, why funerals are so expensive. ahm.
what a poor world is this, with such people ruling it and waiting for their funeral.

at least, it is one final step among several others, which will follow in order to give you, dear user, the smartest and most excellent designed impression of my very personal [well, okey, they are not that personal.] experiences during my short and mostly unnecessary life on this planet.

well. what…? ahm. okey. and certainly it is this unnecessary life, which is so unimpressing, and everything… well. it should be interesting for you. for, you are the one, who is more unintresting than me.

well. here we go. another day in hell.