The slammy poet

I nev­er real­ly got into poet­ry slam so far. I always sound­ed too unlit­er­ary to me. I am real­ly used to books and I clear­ly attribute to myself to have some kinde of taste in lit­er­a­ture, which is quite nor­mal being con­front­ed with those clas­sics. Slame poet­ry always seemed to ignore those achieve­ments, the audi­ence sel­dom gives the impres­son of being inter­est­ed in deep­er things. But for many this kind of sub­jec­tive dis­tinc­tion is wrong. They refer to the sub­jec­tive taste where­in every­one is the one to judge.
Doing so we have to admit poet­ry slam on stage is amus­ing and it often ignites a spark to lis­ten­ers:
poetryslam1But there’s some dan­ger. Some­times that spark lits a fire and lis­ten­ers get to the point where they want to inter­pret things out of their periph­ery in metaphor­i­cal terms.
poetryslam2
Keep those guys off the stage!

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The sprinkling

Men are known to be quite quick­ly in bath. There’s not much to do for them when there’s no radio on or no news­pa­per to study. They do fun on women as they these tend to spend more than 10 min­utes with pimp­ing them­selves up. What for?
There’s no need for men to use the bath­room as a work­ing place the way they use garages for their cars. Cars are for pimp­ing. Not male bod­ies.
That’s way in a man’s world the bath­room is man’s place to rest. To be alone. To con­cen­trate. To do some phi­los­o­phy.
And any lit­tle dis­tur­bance is a pain in the …
sparkling

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The solitary friend

Hav­ing friends is one of the finest things a man can have. You can have vic­to­ries, but those need to be cel­e­brat­ed with friends to become real vic­to­ries. Some­times you need a friend just to remind you of cel­e­brat­ing life:

Par­ty on, Garth!
- Par­ty on, Wayne!
There’s a vital­i­ty in hav­ing and being a friend that’s very much dif­fer­ent from just know­ing peo­ple.
On the oth­er hand: Friends accept your strangest char­ac­ter­is­tics. Friends do see your inner nature even when your life seems to be a mess to your­self.
That’s what friends are for.
Friends.
NOT fol­low­ers:
pants

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The scent listener

Some peo­ple are quite atten­tive what goes on in their envi­ron­ment. This is a fine behav­iour when­ev­er you’re in need of some­one to rec­og­nize you’re feel­ing bad or you’re want to utter some­thing impor­tant. But get­ting too used to that kind of behav­iour can make a freak out of you. Some­times you should spe­cial things bet­ter let go. There’s no win in observ­ing them over a longer peri­od of time. And it’s not worth telling:
Chrisoph Salzig
[engl. Thin walls with­in this hotel: Some­one just fart­ed next door. Haven’t heard it, but I can smell it. #semi­per­me­able]
But pr_ip is not the only one to reg­is­ter farts near­by. And it’s not only humans that farts are worth talk­ing about. There’s an Office Chair inform­ing twit­ter about the out­come of its seaters:
The Office Chair

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The ghosts I called

Women quite often think sex is an easy game for guys. Just take your equip­ment and start the game when­ev­er you like to. And guys like that game more than it is good for them. Why else are there so many sites in the inter­net with films to get start­ed on?
That’s an easy argu­men­ta­tion. As a guy it’s dif­fi­cult to prove you’re not some­one that works as sim­ple as that. But real­i­ty is dif­fer­ent. And guys do know that. Sex for guys is not sim­ply a hedo­nis­tic walk in the park.
This is a game with a dark side.
pornhater
So, if you do not have a clue how it is to get into a deep­er con­flict with sex­u­al organs imme­di­at­ly after hav­ing fun, who are you to judge?

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The electric pal

Lan­guage is a fun­ny thing. Some­times it’s more than words and some­times you can’t tell exact­ly what that actu­al­ly means. That’s why peo­ple once tried to build up a way of sci­en­tif­ic speech. But that failed. Words aren’t made to be laid in chains.
So we have to tol­er­ate lin­guis­tic things which are hard to under­stand and deal with the risk to be irri­tat­ed by speak­ers that talk vague­ly on pur­pose.
Still, the prob­lem of talk­ing vague­ly gets to anoth­er lev­el when it’s done by women. Where­as men use ambi­gu­i­ties for jokes, women use it for irri­ta­tions:
batteryboyfriend
Or am I the only one not know­ing right from the start, what “the first O” is?

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The new kid on the loo

Two weeks ago Perez Hilton informed us that Lind­say Lohan tries to solve her prob­lems with her for­mer girl­friend Samatha Ron­son via twit­ter. This was in a way absolute­ly gos­sip, but after hav­ing had a star in our spot­light three week ago, it rais­es the ques­tion: In what way do stars use twit­ter?
As Lind­say Lohan tells us, she uses twit­ter in revenge to Ron­son and her friends using Peo­ple mag­a­zin to talk about Lohan. So this is in a way a strate­gie to guide gos­sip your­self.
For actors, singers, come­di­ans and oth­er stars twitter’s not a plat­form for art. It’s mere­ly a reac­tion to pub­lic inter­est. And maybe they can pre­vail the yel­low press from get­ting too much into their lifes by pre­sent­ing deep sights into it them­selves. Who could say if that infor­ma­tion was true or false? Who would be inter­est­ed in sto­ries of the yel­low press as he or she has read it on twit­ter already?
Maybe Jonathan Knight was try­ing to fol­low the same idea as he wrote:
newkid
… or dis­tress­ing­ly he wasn’t. Hope­ful­ly no one that heard the rumors in Knight’s bath­room that night took the sound for a new New Kids On The Block song.

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The mistaken painter

East­er is the time for tra­di­tion. Two days of fam­ily­ship, going to the church, lis­ten­ing to that Jesus come­back tour, stand­ing round the East­er fire and search­ing for the East­er bun­ny.
But where­as Christ­mas attracts peo­ple with the giv­ing and get­ting gifts game, East­er is rather restrained. The thought East­er stands for is much more ide­al­is­tic. It might be even hard­er to wor­ship that thought, which could be the Pope’s rea­son to ask for peace every year.
So why not break up with tra­di­tions if new rit­u­als turn out to rep­re­sent your wor­ship much bet­ter? East­er seems to stand for some­thing good, so not replac­ing it with any­thing wouldn’t be very ratio­nal.
This must have been Schlen­za­lot’s inten­tion before stat­ing:
eier
[Just coloured eggs (tes­ti­cles?). Colour’s itch­ing a bit.]

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The hunting

There are very many fakes in twit­ter. Believe me, I know, I got some of them myself. But when it comes to sex­u­al­i­ty it’s get­ting hard­er to iden­ti­fy fakes and dis­tin­guish them from real peo­ple or peo­ple try­ing to earn mon­ey with sex in the inter­net.
I’m telling you this because fuck­hunter, the per­son I’m going to deal with this week, could be a fake. Any­how you’ll just get a glimps of his life and this has to deal with sex­u­al­i­ty, because that’s his main top­ic on twit­ter. I do not feel pro­voked by the things he tweets and I think there’s a ten­den­cy to pro­voke if you have a twit­ter fake.
So on the one hand fuck­hunter is a fake that does not fol­low the ten­den­cies oth­er fakes on twit­ter have. Or he’s not a fake. Any­how I do believe there are guys like that twit­ter per­son. So let’s have a look at what he says:
fuckhunter1
(engl. Now I’m going to wank on any bitch on the inter­net.)
This is quite good for a start on fuck­hunter. Search­ing for an anony­mous per­son for sex in the inter­net, whether it’s a pic­ture, a small video or some­one on the phone, hap­pens every day, every hour. And done by more peo­ple around you than you think.
But that’s not the only area where fuck­hunter search­es for sex:
fuckhunter3
(engl.: I fucked for 180€ this month. Although yesterday’s fuck was shit. You can’t call it a fuck any­how, cause I wanked myself.)
There are a lot of web­sites where pun­ters of pros­ti­tutes tell each oth­er what pros­ti­tude does what and where she’s stand­ing. In a way this tweet is just a trans­for­ma­tion of that sort of utter­ances from those sites into twit­ter. Fuck­hunter tells all this in a very unemo­tion­al way: He’s not angry about hav­ing spent 180€ on hook­ers and he doesn’t see the per­son­al­i­ties in them. This is not nec­es­sary, but it won’t ful­full you, not in the tini­est sense:
fuckhunter2
(engl.: And so the fuck­hunter wanks dai­ly. A sad sto­ry…)
If that is what you think of and do most of the time: Absolute­ly. Some­times the hunter becomes the hunt­ed.

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The puddle

There’s some­thing about hook­ers. And you can think of that in any way you like. Hook­ers have always been spe­cial social fig­ures. Peo­ple thought of their job as an unwor­thy thing to do. But pros­ti­tu­tion has also con­tin­u­ous­ly been a con­trast to ordi­nary people’s life — even if it was for some peo­ple clear­ly inte­grat­ed into their lives. So I guess it’s good to think about one’s own posi­tion towards hook­ers and pros­ti­tu­tion. Par­riFin does it this way:
oldhooker
The first ques­tion is: How much yoghurt did Par­riFin spill on her­self? And where? It seems to be more than a tiny drop on your shirt. And it was definet­ly enough to grab the thought of com­par­ing it with a hooker’s job.
I nev­er thought that hook­ers are train­ing with yoghurts to avoid get­ting too much pud­dles of sperm on their clothes. Most of them can han­dle it now, so that only overea­gered hook­ers cock up their clothes.
But I think for them it’s a kind of proof of their pro­fes­sion­al­ism. And shure­ly there are many hook­ers with wardrobes full of shirts of evi­dence. Like those gob­lets on the shelf in the liv­ing-rooms of ordi­nary peo­ple.

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