Category: Weekly state (Page 9 of 25)

I say this to you from a plastic chair upon which I profusely sweat.

I have arrived. It is a strange feeling to arrive, truly arrive at a place that you didn’t longed for in the beginning. It was just hiding in plain sight, unbeknownst to my soul. We didn’t know each other but we are here, having a honeymoon.

It makes me sweat, it drenches me. It leaves me wanting more and punished me by burning off my lips and tongue. I want the heat, the hurt, the heart.

The lights sing me a lullaby, one of chaos and comfort, cradling me drowsy in boozy sleep. Every corner, a new temptation, new sensation hitting my poor nostrils. My brain is loaded and all I can think of is the sheer power that this place strikes me with.

My willpower is gone, only instincts survive. Come sit down, be damp, be wet, be happy, sweat.

I’ll have some beer as well.

Yes, I am here. Stinky cheese in my bag pack and ready to rumble.

Trying for many things, I have found that not trying is sometimes a good recipe. Not only for a weekly dish but for many objectives and desires we inhabit.

Not to be sounding communist but we live in the late and carcinogenic era of capitalism and thereby, forced into consumerism. We follow people with masks and big lips and try to be like them. We worship millionaires with questionable morals and we try to be like them. We see people with different appearance than us and we try to be like them.

In the end, we try. Be like them.

Stopping to try, floating in space. A true recipe for spicy thoughts. Buddhists would call it mindfulness, people selling you self-care call it like that, too. But you don’t need some specific clothing, a label or incense. Just lie back and watch. Yourself, your thoughts, other people. That’s it. It won’t even cost you anything except for time.

As I look back on a period of heterogeneous growth and development, I cannot help but wonder if there is anything else but change as the constant of life. Change is consistent, it cannot be stopped.

The second law of thermodynamics states that the universe strives for entropy. What if we strive for it as well, following and trying, seeking homogenisation and stability. But the arrow goes one way.

So follow the way of the universe, come join me on a cloud. Let’s float on this endless journey and have a look around, it’s mesmerising.

When I push the button, the wheels are getting in motion and I become excited.

I don’t know who pushed the button this time, maybe someone rang the bell or shouted into the void. Yes, I live down here. Yes, sometimes I can hear you.

I guess someone did something, or I would like to think so. Maybe it was you, the person reading this? Did you do it? Did you push the button? I don’t blame you, really, I can understand. Buttons are menacingly sitting there, we push them anyway. It is like a basic urge, wanting to find out what it does. Who is behind this conspiracy? Is it an urge? Are we programmed to push buttons? Are we curious or bored?

Well, all I know is that someone pushed something I got a request. Not too spicy, just good old fashioned stuff. The classics, I would say.

So let’s get started with me, give me a coin. We will need it for the juke box. Get over here, closer! Let’s align our desires for something, we must find a common ground. What do you think? Should we push the button for the beat of next week? What do you request?

Go on and shout it, I will tell you mine. For sure it’s in the jukebox of life.

Trendy word, I know.

Hard to find a central point these times. Polarised by external pressure, there is hardly any room to be left for anything abnormal. Being strange, deviating from the norm. It has driven art and literature. Now we need to warn people of it. It has become something to be looked down upon.

Papa Shanghai, what a name. Strange, now that we think about it. Not at all connected to Shanghai, not being a papa. Maybe a Papa spiritually speaking, Papa Shanghai imagines and hopes. So why not embrace this completely disconnected name? Phonetics are good, it does not hurt anyone. So here I am being your Papa. Without any correlation but still somehow connected to Shanghai.

I am edging. Edging opinions, stories, views. Good old fashioned borderline self. Without hurting, just being a bit off. A very small amount off the average, the mainstream.

Do I find myself getting more recognition because of it? Hell no. Do I want it? Hell no. Do I feel comfortable doing it?

Hell yes.

One hair longer, one shorter. Click clack, I try to make my way through the dense fog. The legs are wobbly but I have a crutch.

Squinting at the sky. I can’t see the sun, only clouds. Still, the brightness hurts my eyes. The only steady bit is the ground but my feet give up. I hold onto the crutch, it is firmly attached to my left arm.

Click clack, I continue my way forward through dampness, lit up by a hidden sun. Where’s the wind to blow it away? Why is the sun hiding? Who took the soles from my feet and exchanged them with pudding?

I reach a red neon sign, my crutch moves towards it.

“Do you want to have a beer?”

– I nod.