I am getting slowly emotional about leaving my family and friends.
I mean, I am so happy to come back, to my lady. And Samnang. And the house, Siem Reap and leave this misanthropic state of home, which was never my home. Which makes me sick. I am so excited to return to my home, to an home I fought for and I will fight for every day, because it makes me feel me, when I am with me there.
But leaving my parents, my sister, my nieces and my friends, which are not less family, sucks. And I have the best family you can have. They care. I can count on them. They will never leave me and I never want them to leave me, my heart, my past, my life. They are smart, open minded, loving and so different from each other. But they all have something in common, I truly love them. But I have to leave them. And not that it does make me sad, but it makes me realise how good they are and what a lucky person I am.

Maybe I was my whole life preparing my break out, which I consider personally as a break through.
9 am, I am sitting right in front of an advertisement at the subway station Max-Weber-Platz, Munich, right next to Rechts der Isar, an, my hospital. The smell of blood, excretions and disinfectants is winding up my nose – like a mean fart after lifting the planket in bed, from the inside of my half-dressed jacket, kept together by an arm sling. I was rashly dismissed early morning from the hospital. And being dismissed from an hospital means, you don´t ask, you just leave, walk as straight and far as you can. Now on my way back to my friend´s home, waiting for the train. Around 5 degrees, I practice to find a comfortable position with the arm sling, protecting my left collarbone from further damages, challenging the fact, that three weeks earlier, after the removal at the same hospital of the second titanum plate, which was my companion for nearly two years, this stupid bone refractured. Collateral damage or bad luck. I go for collateral damage as this stay inside of fortress Europe, was not worth to extend but feels like a military mission. I felt imprisoned and was planning constantly my break out the last weeks, being trapped in a racist and misanthropic madhouse.
There are incidents hitting our lives, we feel attracted to escape into superstition, the institution of self protection, of a radical self, which is finally a coincidental procession of bad luck or fate, like a funeral of an unloved friend. Germany is my place of worshipping this bad luck. From the first day on there was an intense feeling of displacement, that I don’t belong here, finally and for good not anymore. Not because of the social cold and the capitalist, commercial, industrial, consuming culture of waste, waste of energy, waste of being. A culture of hypocrisy and depression, a record of a fail of enlightenment. I knew what monster was waiting here, showing it’s true FRATZE in these days surrounded by refugee crisis, a never overcome racism and fascism and leadership itself. But we survived to this certain weekend quite well even though the soldier of death was already marching with his heavy muddy pace on our chests, we were taking breath carefully. And then after removing the plate on my collarbone, the reason why we came here to the doorsteps of my personal hell, it refractured, without any reason. But it did, because things happen like this even there is no explanation. Because reasons are good enough to create art, like menkind and it´s apocalypse, but not to explain the mistake of finding reasons, of discovering a truth. – It just did, like bombs are falling on this world or leaves are dropped by summer. Natural. This world makes me puke.
And I am really broke the first time in my life, at a point where I would need every cent to fullfill my creation, I am working on since I am alive. A plan of a healthy and strong life, to share my creativity, my humanity, to do good, with my wonderful lady on my side.
You will not change the world, but the world changes you, because it is not made for your survival, but to feed its determination.
Germany broke me in many ways and maybe cleared up my mind. Since a long time, a lifetime, I feel like erasing my consciousness, ending this life, my life and with it the existence of this world, which is created not to be and not to feel right, always to be wrong, in one or the other way, because you are always part of the failure, in good and bad. You are always one of us, who suffer, because the world is bleeding and with it us, the ones, who feel, who want to feel, knowing at the same time, that you only feel, how you have to, to survive. It drives me insane or closer to sanity to be this product, named human and sold by this machine called system. And we all feed the system and the system feeds us, with fear. I am scared to live. Germany, Europe, the western culture, all kinds of culture, belief or concepts of power and oppression frightens me to death as it spreads the seeds of death. I am white. I am privileged. I will never be poor, if I don´t want to. But I am a misfit. I am between. And I have an idea again how you feel if you are not welcome as a being. The last years I was away, making a living outside of boxes and borders, I neer felt so alive. I never loved myself for always having fought for being different to what I am told to be and what the dictator – the summary of all what power wants us to be, as a part of itself, to sustain, inside of me orders me. I was at places, where I was. And nothing else. I cried, because I was. I cried, because the purity of life seeps through me – and for this short moment I also forgot to question this feeling, as this is also a result of a manipulative dictator, the true imperialism is the history and culture of men.
And at this point I want to embrace from the bottom of my heart my oldest friend, who is closer to me than he knows, who is the candle of my criticism, who is always in my mind, who cried hours after the terror in Paris, just for a moment, interrupting his speach of condolence. A deep cry. A cry of unforgiving and eternal sadness. In this moment he was there, inside of me. This is how I felt for a lifetime and now I am back and I need to leave, I need to escape, I need to be as you, all of you, who don´t see me, are eating me alive, again and again.

So I am sitting in front of this advertisement. Of a gym. Promoting the non-perfection of your body. And that you don´t have to endure the fact YOU ARE NOT PERFECT! Because you can, NOW! You only have to do it. Consume. And you don´t even have to think about how or question your consumption at all, the beginning of a new period in your life, a period of sucess, of power, of sex. Because they have the concept, they discovered your personal paradise. And this is how you could look like. This is the goal. This is the new I, the idol, your star cut of success. – And people seriously don´t feel attacked. Gazing at this, as an advertisement designer, makes me puke into my inside. I feel disgusted by me, by me as the designer, but more by me as a human. That I have to endure this cheeky but insolent attack on my consciousness and further. It makes me literally sick to defend and resist and not isolate myself from the outside, which just leads right into it, IT, the thing, right into the throat of it.
In western society, in human society it is not popular to be contented with yourself or the conclusion of humbleness or anything, but everything is passivily temporarily. E-v-e-r-y thing is telling you constantly you are not as good as you are, you are not 100%, of course on a very shallow but smart level, because basically the world is fucked up as we are, so far from 100%. But you could be, with this creme, the sunglasses over there, these shoes, another training and food program, with this certificate and that car. And with this fence, this opinion and that therapy you are as bleached as a soul. – So first they tell you, you are not perfect, which would be a direction, maybe a bit hammering, but still. But then, well then you should start to think.
Every anything is outside. Inside is created by outside. You are a creature of creation, build by the values of systematic manipulation. Instead of discovering the silence of gleichfoermigkeit in your practice to gain worthlessness as an industrial value and awareness as a negotion of fear.
Siem Reap is not different from Munich or Paris or other places on this planet. It´s just at a different state of development. I can buy there a Nike underwear with a Tommy Hilfiger stick inside. I can buy only the model the have in my size. And finally you don´t care a all, why should you, WHY the hell should anyone care! But I guess it´s too late. Looking at this world forces you to feel hope, but in a hopeless way, turning your back on and taking care of your own, isolate your empathy, reducing the suffering to a fancy but not nonselfish, reasonable perception. Nobody believes in a change anymore, not the ones who hope, not the ones who believe in another kind of super paradise if they just survive this in good manners. And this is the main problem. The ignorance of every single human being on this planet. Because nobody wants to suffer and suffering leads to ignorance, even if it´s just for protection. But what is left to protect. Honestly.

It´s 9.15 on a saturday morning in Munich. I am gazing on a perfect shaped body of a man. My body is weak. I am in pain and on painkillers. But I am grateful to be here. I am healthy, I can walk, my senses are craving. My desires are rising. A storm of light is looming. I shaped myself in the last months, years, since I am away on my roads. I cut. I carved. I opened my arms. I embraced. And I will stand someday on a vulcano, in the depths of a jungle, at the ocean again and I will feel my existence, my stand, my strength, my being. Because as long as I am I can.

One more identiy check on the train.
“A bit more courtesy is too much to expect?”
“I only provide what you are asking for [you racist numskull]. If you would have expected me to face you with respect, I suppose you didn´t make a check on me. So let´s do all our jobs and despise each other for its execution.”
Police men scratching heads.

I am not only with you Paris, because the world is fucked up global and so is its suffering. And I don’t support and follow a system just because it seems to be the popular and the easy solution to confront fear and anger.
I am with you world, because black days are marching up and this scares me much more.

The inconvenient truth is, I am actually not at all with you as I am not with all the other victims, caused by capitalism, fundamentalism and radicalism every day. – How can we basically live our hypocritical lives? We, who show empathy and solidarity – by changing profile pictures in colors of historical blood, to satisfy our believes in values, which created this world, this suffering, this mendacity.

Answering with prayers and nationalism puts only more matches among fire accelerants. – And this is just the next beginning. If the men don´t stop believing the gods and creators of disaster, nothing will change, it only gets worst and worst until nothing will be left and this human thing will be only a universal souvenir.

Dear former home,

Back in my hometown.
Pale gazes surrounding.
Globes like flat walled horizons.
Mouths, monsterous throats.
Talking cows shitting a feast.
Furious self-abuse ulcerating from all pores of what they call their life, their right, their privilege, their freedom of everything. Their righteous conformity, their responsibility to protect the limits of normality.
Hair of madness, curling poison of superficiality.
Butchered limbs desiring to split up my breast and snatch my heart, my passion, my freedom, my I-want-to-live-so-fuck-off-and-die – somewhere far far away from me and others, alone in the dark, because nothing else you deserve, you hate spitting curse for men.
Reality is, I am sorrounded by sheeps, staring at me, pointing their chubby fingers at me, whispering codes of despair – “how can you walk around like this?” “look at him, look at this freak.” “For god´s sake!” – to confirm their trueness, their lack of respect, empathy, sympathy and everything what would make this world to a better place, in fact. My anger is endless, pleasing to be released, to burn them. Hell, you all shold burn in my fire! You are not worth the air you breath. You racist cunts. Excuses are to find, fear is the most popular and also most reasonable one, but why I should. For a bunch of neglecting-existence haters. For men, who would raise their arms and hail any kind of guidance just not to be not guided, to be on their own, to think by their own, to fail, to learn, to appreciate the diversity of being. I pity you, I pity you from the bottom of my scorn. You are dirt. You are the reason why I will never return to live in this mudhole, in this close-up of racism, mindlessness and hazardousness. I am ashamed to be human, the same species of being, watching you, how you watch me, empty and lost in the void of fear. For the first time since years I feel the desire to burn myself again, in front of you, of you, men, not to scare you and not for the silly try of enlightenment, only because I can´t stand to be wih you, I don´t have the strength to be with you anymore, to endure constantly your falsehood and be burried in the same grounds. My ashes shall wind into the universe of ignorance. You make me weak, you weaken yourself, you weaken everything, development, improvement, evolution, harmony, peacefulness and a possible spark of freedom – as an approach… than the opportunity to protect your weakness. But you choosed to be not important to anything which is bigger than anyone. I wish you drown quickly in your ignorance, I wish you not to suffer long as this would cause more harm to the universe than the big bang.
There is no excuse, and no means, NOT AT ALL, not one little tiny option of justifying racism and your idleness to use what once in the early days was discovered as a tool of manipulation and to understand manipulation and to fight for a better world. So you dumb fuckers, start to use your brain!

Best regards,


Don´t party couple of days before, especially if you have the best friends and family, saying goodbye rowdily, stomping from one heart the other, doesn´t make it more easy.
Avoid surpises, like my parents did by showing up, turning your world upside-down.
Don´t stay with friends the night, drinking and loving, sharing moments of grandness, fucking you up emotionally, messing with mercilessness, pointing again at ideas of fortune, luck, destiny. Adverse fate. Looping chosen life plans. Wrong side of rightness. Right to be sided with wrong.
Don´t party at all. Don´t hug, don´t get hugged, don´t get touched, just stay, never leave the airports.
Don´t tell anyone what you are doing, what you gonna do or what you intend to do, just do it. Don´t make people wait. You gonna wait longer.
This is me, leaving in two days.
This is you, making it brutally tough-hearted to leave.
This is you, leaving me.
You selfish home.
Keep distance.
Don´t answer, keep your mouth shut. Don´t try to revise. Couch changes, what a stupid effort. Stick on backhanded compliments.
Don´t forget, discovering kept secrets doesn´t enlighten, it feels like covered your head by a plastic bag, full of moths, scratching at your bawling eyes.
Thank you for the disaster, home.

7 days

In one week, it will be friday already. I will wake up in about one hour, jump on my motorbike, carefully, drive to the market, enjoy some great cambodian breakfast and start my search for a fair appartment in Siem Reap to share the best times of my life.
Fuckin love that perspective.


Minds of an old habit. One of my strongest feelings. Sex is nothing in comparison, even drugs is only a pimp, but can´t catch my heart. It is an attack. A spiritual mastership, crushing straight into the operational headquarter, impacts my sanity and lust. I DON`T WANNA LIVE WITHOUT BEING CALLED TO BE SOMETHING! The choosen one. The nailed one. The burned one. The flattering ashes igniting eternity. The one who´s name isn´t important, nore what he did, more what he felt like. Like there must be something else instead of this, this, treating, dealing boredom and meaninglessness. I remember, riding my habit, with a cross up my ass, I always call myself ignostic. Can I? Still? Or do I hide behind, far beyond a cruel blindess reigning terror and blessing peace. A moral constitution, theological and in theory nothing more than a shiftlessness to accept human nature, being a mistake, a bug, a system and the bug, a system in a bug. I don´t wanna be, like a this. Like something, which can´t be that. Live with people can´t be, this or that. Look around. All that streets, buildings, forms and structures, colors and lines, settings and frames. The sky, blue, grey, white or dark, pierced with lights from an idea, which relates on the ground we stand, sleep, eat and pee. No, I am not hungry for a fall-back, I don´t wanna live in a bamboo hut or be a scrotum eating nerd in a modern stone aged apocalypse. I wanna mean something, not only talk, write or shit between screens, into the offcut. Keep me functional for. Eating. Drinking. Don´t forget to enjoy this. And that, never enjoyed something that much. The taste of fading. Relabeled. Renewed. Redone. A taste of Re-ism. I wanna solve. “What you wanna solve?” asks satisfaction. As if there is just only faith left. Find a solution. How it feels like. How feeling feels, in a mindless way. How I think a feeling. I wanna stand on the top of the world and don´t feel the desire to look down, nor up. Dazed by a vision never existed. Gazing ahead. An ahead with no horizon. Distracted from the error. Fooling. And to know, this is it. I can´t do even more. This is it, not the end or the fucking beginning. Who cares. This is it! I am, I know. And I know this is the error, the error itself is wrong, always was and never will be again, because I know now – and this is the end. – Peng. Do you wanna live like everyone? No one does. This is why the world keeps on crawling, in its tailored fetishism, face down in the muddy abysmal impaired consciousness. Turn. Again and again. Re and re again. Keep the shit on turning. Feeling so intellectual writing bullshit on the endless paper of obscurity. Today all this will preserved, saved and stored by a raven digital jaw. Generations after the possibility is quite high someone will read this lines. Generations before, paper had to be protected from rotting, vanishing into the atomsphere. So sitting here, drinking coffee, listening to music surfing on the rattling washing machine. Multicannonaded. Sweating alien slippers. Waiting. Unhorsed. Kicked the habit. Again. Re-kicked. Washing program is finished.
I am bored like a Jesus.
No, I don´t wanna do something useful, like helping poor kids, starving, dying from the world. Or other victims of society, Jesus or Buddha or toher sodomites and enriching with dynamite suckers, taking advantage of a repeating stultification. I WANNA CHANGE. What a stupid habit.
You know what? Just love yourself. Love is all that matters. Without love there would be no hate. Yin Yang shit. So love each other and hate yourself now and then, for being such a mattress. You holy mattress. I love to watch this, feeding my anger, how dare fucking blind this red-eyed horse stamps down the cadavers of narcissism. I love myself for being such a dick.
Hell! I am bored.
– I wanna fuck. Myself is boring.


“You will, mate, you are stronger than you think, in a couple of years you will look back and all this bullshit, you have to suffer from today, will be only a small dirty spot on your sunglasses.”