Thursday night, at home in Wolfsburg. Niklas will be three in a few days. He is off sick right now on a stringent schedule of nose sprays and cough meds. Am somewhat surprised that I can still post here after all these years. Revisiting old haunts.

"When you're young, your potential is infinite. You might do anything, really. You might be great. You might be Einstein. You might be Goethe. Then you get to an age where what you might be gives way to what you have been. You weren't Einstein. You weren't anything. That's a bad moment. But I remember something Carlyle wrote: '...there is no life ( Read more... )

A striking pair of bright red staple-jaws were 'spirited away' from my desk by a shadowy office supply hoarder. I immediately shot out an "inter-office email", "requesting" that they be returned ("No Questions Asked"). I was, of course, more than a little rattled by the whole ordeal, but you'll be relieved to know: this morning, "Red Snapper" ( Read more... )

Anyway, when I'm not treadmilling my way out of debt, I've been turning my flat into a veritable Festival of Lights. It's nearing aesthetic perfection: a very thrilling prospect for me. I love having my own place. I've set up the bathroom so I can spend hours in the bathtub and still be productive (study, use the phone, eat, drink, etc - only an ( Read more... )

Cape Town is staggering. I'm staying with Granny, but each day I've been driving down at least a section of the Cape coastline. There's nothing I like more than staring into the angry sea (from a high cliff ( Read more... )

Whilom élan exhausted, I still see lights along the way, yet imagine my sustaining fascination is really for nothing more than the friction between feuding tragedies. In the end I divine a dead heat between loneliness and lung cancer.

Riaan stirred to the dull throb of survival. Three tiny bones in his right ear faithfully rattled out each muted thud his unremitting heart thrust through the bloody boulevards buried beneath his flesh. His languid cognizance drifted, eavesdropping on the dogged murmurings of his remains ( Read more... )

Every day this tableau vivant is distorted ever so slightly more. Since 11 or 12, I have known (of course not in these words) that some time after soaking my corneas and irradiating those little pools, the ricocheted light undergoes my particular brand of encephalous twisting. I don't have to try anymore. The images are already renovated by the ( Read more... )

Every day seems to deliquesce into the brume of the last 8,545 or so ( Read more... )

Just got into work. Valentine's Day is full heart-shaped swing here at DentaQuest. (I unwittingly wore red today, and now every passer-by must must must say something to the effect of "Red ( Read more... )