Actually and besides, I have always been the blogger that I am now; the narrative threads that I create here in free thinking, loving, acting are patterns and networks that are up to 40 years old; they are more than simple associations and memories, stories or fantasies.

Again and again, the attempt to transport all this into the conventional, into the book and bullshit business, into the trance of ants and bees, shines in me, but something in me reliably blocks and refuses to cooperate from

Natural authenticity

, out of an undeniable stubbornness.

But I like the friction that has been created over the last few years between projects like the Hutmacherei, Testdrive Unlimited or Graz am Meer and, last but not least, here, in this expression, this determination of identity, this colorful little I am I of all parallel earths.

I think what comes out of this side effect and constant inner and outer struggle is more than okay.

And I feel like I'm blogging even more, even the books that write themselves, the desire to find literary recognition is no longer enough to satisfy this urge to blog, to write, to design.

I feel that the current lack of experience at Urban Monk is a hindrance, but a lot of things are emerging that would otherwise have been lost, too pale for the party. It's another performance, almost without an audience, an improvisational theater rehearsal, I repeat myself, but always different.

Blogging lets me breathe more deeply than any other word art form, I can see of course that there are hardly any competitors on this level, I have been dancing on the net since 1996/98, it is as if at some point I was run over by a train of conformity and commercialization roaring behind me and ultimately over me, fucked by affiliate links and left behind by perfected Google Ads niche sites, with questions of quality, survival instinct and meaningfulness.

Like in the good old days of eBay, before everything was castrated, destroyed and conquered by the greedy, slimy, successful elbow-men. Until private auctions developed into a drama and a loss-making business, and people had to flee to a place of originality, which was immediately taken over again by the caravan of greed.

I was always active and in love before the masses came along. Digital nomads, for example, are just a copy of what they could be, but in contentment with the stupidity of taking as much money as possible out of other people's pockets as easily as possible, while feeling privileged and smarter, narrow-minded in the Apple uniformity in the uniform look yoga class, I think here too the romance of what a few authentic people dared to dream of before is dead.

And to paraphrase Leary’s ever-applicable line:

If a man is an idiot before he sets out on a journey, he will come back an idiot.

Maintaining one's individuality and humanity while still being able to achieve one's goals and desires is becoming more difficult day by day, year by year, even if the self-optimization network industry of coaches and speakers tries to convince us of the opposite.

The Ship of Fools

navigates in its titanic restlessness between ignored crises, from Corona to climate, migration, nationalism, fake, consumerism, oh, it would be too much to name every single repressed truth.

And in our private lives we do the same thing; we grew up in a cloak of silence and, as docile students of the otherwise toxic old ways, we took it one step further and perfected it in a modern and dynamic way.

What the first generation committed in peace and prosperity, in their ducking the conflict and turning a blind eye to it and in their hedonistic indifference, is unspeakable and more guilt than one can comprehend and deal with.

The decisive question could be: What will the second generation achieve? My generation.

Creeping along at the interface between sociological herds makes one weary, gentle and frustrated.

In this foggy loss of values, I am a creator, a text writer, with alter egos like the Bunnygod or even more advanced personalities, in the process of reclaiming many aspects of my writing and invention from the predicaments, compromises or dilemmas. I can feel that the time is ripe for this, something positive is moving, unfortunately still all too often overruled. The gatekeepers of our thoughts, feelings, dreams and hopes are never far away.

Independence is a key and yet I try every day to get more in touch with the so-called system, no contradiction, not even coercion, more a sense of mission, I don't want to go as far as some NGOs have long done, even if Austria is daring to try exciting experiments, for example, I don't think there is another environment minister in the world who has previously headed an NGO.

But back to the starting point, blogging, this blog, the follow-up projects presented here, the need to continue elsewhere, perhaps less conventionally and more original, wilder, crazier. Or more conventional, gentler, more grounded. Never be a slave to your own goals.

In other side letters, such a modern word, a smile, news, more research than opinion, even if I always try to have facts up my sleeve. Science Art.

I like being here as myself, focused on myself, and it is more than time to venture out of the cave, but there are also many impulses that want to dare something else, perhaps serious sex and/or true porn, or start with Change Now sooner than expected.

Milkyway Today also annoys me as a gossip project. Or maybe it annoys the bunny god, but that's another story.

Despite my exaggeration, there is something important that sets me apart from many populists and extremists. It is not the choice of words, it is that they were given enough time to mature. And as a satirist, you are a little more free and fluffy.

Anger is not the same as anger. If you call someone a liar, make sure you have written down a few hundred of their lies in case they contradict you.

Be creative in your attack, his trainer taught him cheap defense in the seminar, now he hops through woods because it's the vogue and babbles banana mush, lol, the trainer, not the talking puppet.

You have to meet him on his own terrain and confuse him; he has been taught never to deviate from the wording. Even his feelings and stories are just lifeless scripts.

Look at the Young ÖVP (or CDU etc.) and understand their shortcomings and lack of focus. For young people, this form of reactionary nationalist money-hungry populism mixed with Christian root vegetables is much more scary and inappropriate than a semen stain on the pants of the American president.

All over the world, young generations are trying to claim a future that is not taken over by the old conservative ideology, and they are dying for it. And our clowns are letting themselves be sucked by evangelists and oligarchs. Or they suck them with adoring 'ahh'.

It's hard to say how long these robots practice in front of the mirror, but you have to find the interruption, exploit the weaknesses cold-bloodedly, the good news is: there are many cardboard cutouts.

Duckmaus Times Ole

As an ethically oriented blogger, I cannot escape all of this and it is a global rubber wall of fake and simple that often unexpectedly bounces off of, it does not end on any level, I am far from being naive, I am sometimes downright otherworldly pragmatic and not everything is subordinated to a morality or a recognized wisdom, I come from the Thelemic

Nothing is true, everything is allowed

but we are coming across the disgusting ever more quickly and in ever more diverse ways; this is not a right or left problem, it is an interpersonal one, it ranges from dating to advertising sales.

In this reporting, which is independent of customers, readers and other expectations and can therefore act freely in diversity, I see blogging as an art, as one of the highest forms of writing, long since expanded to include visuals, of course, but social media is and will be described elsewhere.

Blogging is archaic

, it is our very own cave painting, our message, scratched into tree trunks, sometimes we mark areas with it, we scribble like a diary and expose ourselves without detours, the more I celebrate it, the more annoying its disdain is, when you look at the art and media elite wannabe landscape that has been edited to death, this is no wonder, raw, unfiltered liveliness, that is disturbing. Distracts from the champagne brunch.

Moria is everywhere. Amazon protects you from noticing it. Half-hearted teenage company blogs, netiquette, just as deceitful as etiquette, of course the culture of how we treat each other is important, but let's not get carried away.

If, on the one hand, the personal cowardice not to stand by one's statements on pseudo-data protection grounds contributes to the fiasco of fake and bullshit, mobbing and stalking, and on the other hand, this is always projected onto the other person, leading to a discourse that would not do justice to any kindergarten.

Back to Twitter, our favorite language nursery which of course also minimizes our ability to think.

But, as research, just spend a day on a Covid livestream of the highly ennobled Standard Forum and observe the allowed comments, filtering for sexism, for example, and you will see what I meant by disgusting.

Especially in the last two decades, we have turned each other into something that should be opposed decisively and without the usual half-heartedness.

This is one reason why I am moving forward cautiously:

Because I don't want to be satisfied with ending up in the bubble of adulation that we all love so much. I know that I'm very, very good, that sometimes I lose my passion and that it's necessary to check myself every day and every night, to revise myself in publishing terms.

But whether in blogging, journalism, social media marketing or coaching, I don’t want to repeat what I criticize about others.

That makes me slower and a little harder to grasp. Blogging in slow motion under the microscope mixed with quantum thoughts. Being completely yourself without actually being yourself, because you realize that everything is just daring to follow a surreal illusion and pattern of shame on the monetary rope that far too few are even willing to consider, daring to lead a deeper and more joyful life as a human being without a social mandate.

Being a role model was an intention of mine until I realized that this no longer had any effect in a world of overload and endless staccato. What remains is to create an island that remains discoverable, like something that is there when you need it or want to feel it.

In this sense, writing is also therapy for me, because loneliness or disappointment led me to sink into introversion much more than originally planned.

Standing at a distant train station where only every few weeks a train passes in the direction I dream of going. Listening in amazement and sometimes amusement to the freight and passenger traffic in between.

My greatest asset is the trust of a few like me. Just as the disgusting ones are everywhere, the authentic and loving ones, in their silent majority, are unfortunately all too often on board the sinking ship; they get on other trains, pushed or seduced, but if you explain to them why you do what you do, they will help you, come along or get involved in other ways.

With my writing, my blogs and (art) works I want to create cave paintings, world art, communities, small ones, and later probably larger ones. I am repulsive and yet full of longing to be together.

Writing in the form chosen here is highly recommended for yourself too, it is healing and unfolding, you wake up after each trance a little freer, more alive. It is also an important part of what I try to do with modern magic, writing, language, these are steering instruments, even if we come from images and are about to fall back into them, the combination of the two is the decisive factor, I started out as a writer, currently I am best off as a blogger and journalist, but as I have always mentioned, I am drawn to creating worlds in the sense of good science fiction role play.

It is no coincidence that initial attempts are being made with virtual reality and psychotherapy; in this sense, NLP has also brought to light very positive possibilities; how little it makes of it is another matter.

Tonight I had a scary dream about my daughter jumping or falling from a skyscraper windowsill. It feels like my fears about the pandemic have been repressed just as much as humanity is celebrating its way towards destruction.

If one of your children suffers from depression or is bipolar or whatever labels limit neurodiversity to old-fashioned concepts, then you suddenly understand better why and what you have been able to experience so far in the master plan of your life and why you have been compelled for decades to promote psychedelic and other well-formed forms of therapy, to push them forward, perhaps even to help define them in a new development based on Grof's strong basics.

That's why the healer and shaman in you always sits at the table with you at your inner table, and so circles close, but perhaps you can also understand that there is a lot of sky out there, a lot of space to float, perhaps every diagnosis of a psychological nature is just a reflection of what we don't want to admit to ourselves. And why do psychiatrists have higher suicide rates than their patients?

I myself am landing, or depending on your point of view, stumbling into a somewhat restricted Close to Summer Spring, 2021 is a similar cold to Covid Year One, but as long as there are enough tissues it's fine. And in the meantime, vaccination and freedom are just around the corner, everything is as timid as it is questionable egomaniac, think of India before you party.

The organic food store and the breakfast service delivered, on an unexpected odyssey through Graz's doctor's offices, I need a new printer, maybe a mini oven, ultimately I spent the second half of the pandemic maintaining my usual level despite everything minus the beauty of the planet. Only on the last few miles did I run out of steam, literally.

Homebase alone without nomading and dating isn't so sexy he smiled.

At some point the memories of touching run out, just as the same fear of the disgusting ones prevents one from giving up the picky, every form of job allocation or business transaction, actually every interaction has a gender gap bonus in the other direction for me for good reason, the critical examination is simply fair and evenly distributed.

I am Pan but only purr in the female, it's just some misunderstandings because often chosen by the wrong.

So I'll keep on harvesting, a syllable Midas in the path of all Bukowskis. Too closeness loving to seriously disappear into the dark web.

The property of natural distance, which is useful in pandemics, has already been demonstrated as a goalkeeper in football teams. Thomas Bernhard has been one of my friends since I was ten.

The instinct to question how things are is the harshest of all punishments, it is an endless Kafkaesque process, and it becomes ever clearer how right those who insist on a completely new development, a comprehensive relaunch of civilization, are. At the moment something is being rebuilt and rearranged that needs to be turned inside out and dissected, but this is how Mistake Mankind continues until it is truly too late.

This explains the shapes and edges, nooks and crannies of this blogging cruise of the stoic fighting fish I'm becoming more and more. And then things come to mind that I want to share with everyone, screaming with happiness.

Most of the time I'm resisting a need to communicate, a sense of mission like any good new innovator should have, a shyness because it's trendy. These days you don't have to play the big guy anymore, if a Zuckerberg can achieve importance, anyone can.

The three words from the title are omnipresent in this project, this website, in all my blogs and channels. I can't help but admit that I'm stuck in my ways. I don't want to live within your limitations. I don't want to get a castrated business license to be what I'm allowed to be. I prefer to be what I allow myself to be. Without a chamber and whining. Happy to be close to the establishment but without being able to be bought.

I'm simply trying to make it possible for myself and others to live and love a little more vibrantly. I can't pretend that the world is perfect. I don't want anyone to be happy at the expense of so many who are rotting in suffering right now. Children, pets, people who thought there was justice. For one another.

Say goodbye if you don't like it, or come with me and smash the tinted windows, let the tank fly sparks, disturb the Mafiosi's funeral, your future and mine is in the coffin. Of course, that's just a metaphor if you can't take any more.

For Fridays for Future and for

Weekends, Mondays for Future and Tuesdays and so on.

This is perhaps the moral of the story, what all the rebellious coaching, anti-systematic, deprogramming, mindfucking kinky comes down to, that by focusing too much and too often on what separates us, we forget how to respect and develop the greatest common multiple in a universal and interactive way.