Dear Bob, dear readers,
for this group my heart feels moved,
to report again from my last week end:
even the joy of sharing fades more and more away.
|Strange voyages in winter time: the cheap Austrian Diesel from last Saturday in Achensee brings the car just to Hannover, the CeBIT computer fair, one of the world greatest.|
Since five years my company does not send me anymore to this famous fair. This year I travel on my own cost.
No big change has happened: more computers in the Convention Center journalists use for free. More digital cameras connected to laptops. Pictures go on the Internet voyage around the world. New on the fair: Voice over Internet Provider from wireless connected cell phones. Never heard about before.
Saturday way to Hannover: Trimburg
|Talk people for anything else but for business and for profit? When you don't do business, do you have to talk? When you don't do business, do you have to write? |
Who has another vision to share? Who writes, talks and shares without business purpose? Do you have to ask your cherished flattered readers to appreciate your lost life? Do you feel meaningless, to beg for attention?
Has life any other purpose but to know yourself? When existence has provided your business basis somehow, somewhere, are you ready to share? Are you ready to listen or to read stories, you'll may even not like?
Saturday 12. March: Hannover CeBIT Fair 2005
|Rest of snow still cover the muddy dirty parking place near the East gate of the Hannover CeBIT. Because this place is private, it's necessary for business reason to talk about deals to enter. The press parking voucher has no value on this private place, next to the Park Hotel. The guardian asks: |
''Do you pay six Euro or give a Guest Fair Entrance Card for change?''
The entrance fee for the Fair is 37 Euro, so it's seem to be a good change. Finally the car can stands all day and night.
The fair is like everywhere. The gigantic number of visitors, exhibitors and journalists are published and praised loudly: the upswing is near! IT-business in progress! The terrific number of more than five million people without work will fall soon. The industry will win! And so on.
Entrance from the East Gate
|At Saturday night all journalists are invited to meet and to eat, to drink and to dance. Again these boring business talks everywhere from almost everyone. The continuous big self-praising and -advertising with severe judgments about someone, who sits somewhere else. This stranger will share similar strange judgments with his group of people.|
All my senses are involved as private silent observer, observer of myself and others. Young females present their natural urge, to breed the next generation. Males present themselves in the biological competition as willing and able for any service, these women need. Is this fascinating playground called love or something else?
Press- and Conference-Centrum
|Some cautious sips of alcohol seal my lips. Somewhere I find a table with three elder government employees, who gossip about some chief somewhere, a ''real nasty man''.|
''That's such a terrible man, he always stays alone in a group. He always makes everything alone and only for himself.''
''But his secretary is closed to him, isn't she?''
''Hahaha,'' laughs the other man, and claps his big, fat hands in symbolic washing gesture together.
''No, there can't be anything, this guy suffers from prostate cancer. His machinery does not work anymore, it is incontinent, he needs to ware pampers!''
''No, no, he doesn't suffer from prostate cancer, it's bowel cancer. His machinery still works.'' he reports with this horny, male smile of a thick, fat, grey old man, who has nothing else to fear anymore but death.
Objects of desire
|Tired from this kind of group adventures and public intimate sharing about some anonymous people my feet find my rolling home soon to sleep a couple of hours.|
Life plays theatre alive. Is there any reason, to dive deeper into newspapers, into any other story but your own? Are there people around, willing and able to share true stories from alive joy and adventure to explore themselves like others?
From Nuernberg, two hours north from Munich, where I met my daughter and her man and stood Friday night, to Hannover are five, six hours highway drive. The highway Nuernberg-Berlin was closed all night: heavy trucks could not continue the voyage on the snow slippery streets.
With the voyage in the world outside my thoughts travel in the world inside. Three hours more in northern direction lives my old mother with her 84 years, fresh operated eyes in a little hotel right now. In such holiday places, where she gets all comfort, she spends the money,
she has earned in her life with my father. Her youth friend from war, with her in Paris 1943, where she met my father, is 94 years old. Her friend eyes are blind, she lives in a Hotel in South Germany.
This Sunday morning I return back south to Munich. Enough seen, heard from CeBIT 2005 on one Saturday visit.
Police - friend and helper
Helps my age of 57 years to surrender to the existential flow, the Inner Voice, the opposite pole inside?
This sharing doesn't try to please or to flatter anyone.
These words contact my inner world, no matter if there is hell, paradise or boredom. When there would be ''nothing'', would there be silence?
One early bird salutates the Sunday morning at 6.00 a.m. Three precious hours my mind enjoys to watch my inner theatre on the private parking place next to the eastern gate of the CeBIT. Time to return back into the arms of someone, Mimamai waits for me.
10.00 a.m., 300 Kilometres south, six kilometers away from the highway: Bad Brueckenau, nearly half the way to Munich is done. Seldom some snowflakes shamble down, the road is free and fine.
Three precious hours my mind enjoys to watch my inner theatre on the private parking place
Thoughts wander from my family, mother, father, daughter, my woman to the readers in e-mail sharing. To whom are these words written and why, what purpose in life?
The answer: this life creates all events around to grow. It's a life long school. Bad Brueckenau is an healthy environment with special healing water. Outside in the sauna are four bath tubs with 40 Celsius warm water, two tabs with cold water. Six hours my body can relax, till questions and answers fade away. Three hours high way drive back to Nuernberg.
Reality and fantasy build up a dream castle of inner and outer mysteries - marvellous and nasty too. To much to talk, to write about. Best is silence, the rest is silence.
Bad Brueckenau is an healthy environment with special healing water. ''SinnFlut''
|One young, beautiful woman asks in the Sauna, what I'm doing. She seems to like my fingers play on the tiny keyboard. She comes to sit in the Sauna beside me. Looking at her naked beauty my tranquillity is gone. Desires arise. Her name is Ute. |
Before loosing myself in the abyss of desires with mixed up feelings I leave this beautiful bath and woman.
My daughter in Nuernberg has time, so I visit her to repair her PC. She enjoys to watch DVDs on her PC, and needs to change the DVD-ROM. She has no idea, what the instructions describe about ''Master, Slave'' or ''Jumper Settings''.
So we repair the machine together. Tired, exhausted my body falls asleep, till the morning sun wakes me up.
Saturday night sun set in Rhoen
|My daughter sweetie has locked me up in her appartment! So I have to phone at her friends appartment in the same house to set me free.|
When she unlocks the door, my truth provokes her:
''Is this your urge, to control people, that you lock the door?''
''No, that's your energy, to attract this event!''
''Now, am I guilty for your errors?''
Then she reads some religious book about God and Co., I ask:
''Is this from Jehovah's Witnesses ?''
Afraid of critics she barks back:
''I have no desire, to answer questions like that!''
|I leave her without breakfast. I prefer a sunny silent parking place beside the high way to Munich. My obligations as father are finished! She can earn her money, play with her fantasies, like mine play with me.|
It doesn't matter, who reads this report. It does not matter, when Michael doesn't want anything to read or to write anymore: so he will get nothing. Who cares?
Feelings get stronger, that nothing has to be shared anymore from my inside world outside this group. Like the last year no comments came anymore for those wise words wisdom parrot preaching for politics power.
At the end all will die. Till the very last breath what other concept will everybody claim? ''I've done the best I could!'' Maybe someone has some crack in the armour, where a ray of light shines through. This blessed one maybe will ask at least: ''Have I not done the best I could?''
For this kind of doubt on the death bed after a life in
armored security, for sure there will be a paid priest with cosy consolation:
''For sure you have! Far well..''
I prefer a sunny silent parking place beside the high way
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