Mr. Jones’ psychotic adventures – part 4

-part 3-part 2-part 1

Ziggy is sitting across the table. You will not give him any food, not even a pinch. As punishment. Anyone, who behaves like that doesn’t get a bit from the delicious dinner you are making.

You concentrate on Marina. Yes, that´s her name. She’s your beautiful tailed woman. She was surprised seeing you again at her door, but she accepted your offer. So you did well last night after all. That makes you proud.

She changes as you start preparing. Sweet potatoes, apples, flour, eggs, salmon, cutting herbs and that stuff. She makes you coffee. Still no milk. But she shows you where the sugar is. She´s smiling. She´s beautiful, you state that and swallow. She giggles.

Continue reading “threats”

don’t forget the salmon

Mr. Jones’ psychotic adventures – part 3

-part 1 – Where to, Mr. Jones?

-part 2 – soft spot

You don’t quite think it through, do you? The woman with the tail, you don’t mean to lie to her. But it’s ok for now. You won’t hurt her with that. You tell her, that you are perfectly fine. Not honest. Shame on you! You shake your head at your own confusion- it is somewhat slightly amusing, you must admit.

There is this fact that might be true. The one, that you’re are nuts. You know that. Ziggy has told you. The gorilla and the skinny man too.

They believe themselves a part of your hallucinations. Ridiculous! If they are, then you can  control them, make them say things like supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, or make them eat disgusting stuff, or run around naked. …Oh wait, the gorilla does that, doesn’t he? And the thin man is eating fried crickets and spiders. You might be hallucinating them, after all. Continue reading “don’t forget the salmon”

soft spot

Mr. Jones’ psychotic adventures – part 2

 – part 1 – Where to, Mr. Jones?

There was a train, wasn’t it? You ask yourself, still half asleep. Train rides are always fun. You know that, don´t you?

Maybe not, when you are sitting on the lap of a full grown gorilla, and a thin man is forcing you to eat some fried spiders and crickets, with french fries. They are crunchy, but… Without ketchup, it simply doesn’t taste good.

You know, nothing tastes good without ketchup – surprisingly you never thought of that before. Continue reading “soft spot”

the name of the morning star

the name of the morning star
I’m in love with the morning star.

This is not only about me, my stories, or my search.

It’s about the sky and the stars, and everything behind that deep blue void. Behind that distance, the stone cold space, deprived of… meaning?


That’s not right.

It isn’t the lack of meaning.

Continue reading “the name of the morning star”


Her fingers trailing along the gleaming line on the side of the machine.”Why is it soft?” She retracts surprised her fingers, not being able to hide her disgust. “I mean, should it be like this?”

“Hm? Yeah. It has to. I’d be glad if you didn’t contaminate it.” I tell her, still busy calculating. I stew over some algorithms. I’m not able to find the error – the EPUs seem to get contradictory data from one of the cores.

“It’s like jello!” She giggles. I turn around.

“You never heard about neuronal silica gel? You know, the brain equivalent of AIs!”  I may regret letting her in, after all… “No?” Come on, you’d understand if you’d seen her face. So miserable. Locked out in the pouring rain, she looked like a kicked dog. I couldn’t resist…”Never mind. It’ll be well hidden.” As planned under all those carbon fibre enhanced shielding units. “Under those, over there. They’ll protect it. Hopefully.” I point to the black pile on the other side of the room.

“And here I was thinking, that was nothing but junk.” She smiles. Man. Why do women have to smile? Like they know my weak spots. A humming noise comes from somewhere. I swallow. The humming fades away.

“Cause it is … somehow, um – junk…” More swallowing. I would have never admitted that to anyone. Damn. “Here’s a towel over there, dry clothes in the closet. Not your size, but better than nothing, right? Go change and I’ll make some tea. K?” She smiles even more. The buzzing. It’s in my head, right between my ears. Hot cheeks. I grab one of the  clean towels and give it to her. Her fingers touch mine. Feels like tiny hot needles under my skin. A burning sensation not only on my skin… I musn’t freak out. Smile.

“Tea would be great!” That’s relief. I guess.

“You can change over there. It’s not much, I know-”

“Nono. It’s great. You let me in. I was wandering around for several hours. You’re the first one letting me in…Thank you. You are very kind.” She’s been wondering around? Maybe she’s homeless… She doesn’t look like a beggar. Maybe a thief… Got nothing of value here anyway…  But who knows. The rain outside dims the light. Everything’s grey. Even greyer than usually. It wasn’t even evening. I guess it won’t stop for some days. The radio said something about early monsoon season. The tea kettle started whistling. Tea.

“Which you want?”

“Which what?” She sneaks up behind me. Yawns.

“Tea. Tea. Um, yeah… Tea”

“My, my. You’re jumpy. Everything you drink will be fine.” She says, seemingly bored. “Say. What does this do?”

“What? NO! Nononononono. Don’t touch that! You gonna blow us up!” I push her away from the monitoring panel. “It’s the self-destruct” Some weird explanation for the emergency power override button- I know, I know- but for now it has to be sufficient. I thrust her the cup of tea into her hands.

“Why would you need a self-destruct?! Are you building bombs?”



I don’t know what it is…

We just sit on the stairs, outside, in the darkness. No one speaks. Rain. It is a gentle, silent rain like in autumn; still summer though…

Inside, the party is in full swing. Laughing, music and shattering glass. Next to me she moves suddenly. The ice cubes clinks in her glass. I still have liquor left in mine.

„You know“, she states, letting her voice slip away into the blue. „You know, I’m different.“ I wait if she throws a meaningful look at me, but she doesn’t.

I stare at her silhouette, trying to spot the thing that isn’t right. Feels like… Don’t know. She is weird. Definitely. She talks with an accent I don’t know where to put…

Besides, who else would prefer the chill outside over a party? Who cares? Something about her face catches me, in first place. I think it is her eyes. She keeps them casted down. But from time to time, she seems to forget it, and I catch a glimpse.

She has unusually bright yellow eyes, glowing with a soft golden light. As if there is a lit candle in the depth of her scull.

„I’m a foreigner.“ She says in a flat tone. This time she looks at me. „You should not be here. With me.“ Her eyes darken. „Leave! They come to pick me up.“

too regular pebbles

She calls it saving good daylight. I call it too damn early. I’m not much more than sleepwalking, holding onto my hot coffee in a paper cup. I told the waiter, it should be able to wake dead. With a grin he made it extra strong. He even gave me an extra cookie, so I tipped him fine too.

Sugar and caffeine… The most wonderful things in the morning. Sugar, caffeine and Mona.

I curse myself for promising, to get out of bed this early. What was I thinking? I don’t have to.

Continue reading “too regular pebbles”

What’s under Lady Luck’s skirt?

“Kiddo. You need luck! Without it, you don´t even start.”

The old man looks friendly. His wallet lies on the ground, near his seat. He’s already finished his  coffee and  his pie, rumbles on about something in the newspapers. There isn’t even one he could be lookin’ at. Anyway. He stares at me. He talks to me. What the hell?!

And me? Lookin’ busy. Studying my books sprawled over the tiny coffeeshop table. Old man, why you keep  looking at me? I’m not interested in social contact… Except for that wallet. Yes, that wallet… I’ll keep that in mind.

Continue reading “What’s under Lady Luck’s skirt?”

a colorless sky

Falling? No. The feeling of falling cannot sufficiently describe this. It is nearly impossible to put it in words anyway. You have to fly, if you want to understand. It is like dreaming. No, that isn´t right either… No, it´s not floating.

Remember that one time, when we went rafting? Yeah, and the current was too swift and we had a hard time maneuvering our boat to safety? It´s that kind of the feeling, like emptiness in your guts. Emptiness and warmth at the same time…

But there are different conditions too. Like a clear sunny day, with good weather, is like a day at the beach, with calm sea. Waves coming in, retracting and you can see so far away, that it seems, the world has no boundaries at all. You could just step out and… fly.

Then there are the windy days, when you get tossed around, not able to help yourself. It costs so much will power to keep a steady course… You struggle on, hoping you will land in one piece. Then you must watch out for clouds. Those days are dangerous. Bad surprises.

And of course the days of anger and outrageous temper… Those days, when you look up, and the tip of your tongue burns and stings with electricity; when the skin on your back seems to be too small. Every breath feels like you´ve inhaled too much storm, and your heart starts to race… Knowing you have to get up there. But then… Something strange happens. Flying by those gigantic landscapes of infuriated nature, the walls of darkness closing in. I feel…peace.