Addendum Issue 106

eZine lover (@eZine)

Published in 

Addendum

 · 25 Apr 2019

  

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   #106 : Sunday 28th September 2003 : http://addendumtextfiles.org 
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	 Gehirnfarts, by Steak 
 	¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯ 
                                -._.- 

The cold winter air blows through and under the pagoda like a torrent 
of knifes stabbing at my bare fingers. I feet that maybe I should look 
into buying a pair of gloves, but my endeavors to hit the keyboard in 
the same freezing outdoor atmosphere would be slightly more hindered 
with the hand warmers in place. Perhaps fingers gloves are the way to 
go. I will have to look into it. 

With my hands so cold I am constantly reminded of exactly how cold it 
is in this outdoors winter world, and further still they remind me 
exactly how could I would be @all over@ if I didn’t happen to have my 
clothes for come reason. I’m glad to have clothes - clothes are good. 

Nine-Inch-Nails doesn’t make the whole place seem a lot warmer, in 
fact I would say that their music adds a sort of, well to be honest, 
deathly chill to the environment. Like a coffin stuck in a stone tomb 
in the middle of the North Pole. But I can deal with the music -it’s 
only psychological. 

                                -._.- 

Unemployment is attractive as hell. I’ve been doing it for the last 
few months and trust me it’s tempting as hell to just sit out the rest 
of my life in an altered state of consciousness in a small comfy ball 
somewhere. It would be so easy just to never do anything, lying in 
every day and sleeping whenever I want, and eating just for the hell 
of it and doing what ever I want whenever I want. 

However life doesn’t work quite like that and very soon I’m going to 
run out of money and energy. Not only that but I am sure that the 
novelty will wear off and I will become bored and long for something 
more substantial to fill my life with. That something will, with any 
luck become more employment and with that I will be able to rebuild my 
funds and eventually take over the world. 

                                -._.- 

Open-plan communal living is the best idea I’ve had all year. I want 
to just get together a group of really chilled out people and all just 
live in a large studio with all the creature comforts applicable to 
modern living. 

It’s the best way to live simply because there would be no boundaries, 
you could make any part of the studio anything you want. Like one day 
the place where you have your lounge area could be your gym and your 
dance floor could be your computer area. 

It also forces you to communicate with everyone in the place, which 
can only be a good thing. This is simply because wherever you are in 
the house you would be able to see everyone else and hence talk and 
commune with them. This would get a little tedious at times so I 
imagine bedrooms would be a necessity after a while. 

The experience of living in a studio would be heightened by the sheer 
industrial aspect of it all, for instance you would of course need 
some sort of larger than life entrance to the studio - like a massive 
freight elevator or a pair of huge garage roller doors. 

It should go without mentioning that there would pretty much be 
parties twenty four hours a day seven days a week. Sophisticated 
people would always be hanging there as it would basically be a 
commune of extremely cool people, and if you have the right type of 
people this can, of course be wonderful. 

Extremely huge curtained windows would also be a fun addition for 
endless games of people watching. Maybe I’d need multiple bathrooms as 
well. 

                                -._.- 

Everything must be recorded, if we don’t record what we do, say, see 
or think, then those thoughts could be lost forever. Imagine how many 
thoughts there have been in the history of human kind, and then think 
about how many of those thoughts have at one point been written down. 

Yeah it’s a small number isn’t it? So imagine how many thoughts have 
been thought up - only to be forgotten, all this human imagination 
conjured up into perfect fantasies doomed to circle and spiral around 
in oblivion forever, never to be dreamed again. 

So it’s important to write shit down, it really is. Like right now if 
I didn’t write down the fact that I’m sitting out here, under my 
pagoda, freezing my fingers off, listening to Nice-Inch-Nails, while 
my trench-coat-wearing long-haired friend dances like a strange 
African man, possessed under an obscure spell the product of some 
wicked rhythmical demon that only he will ever hear the beat of, then 
the fact that it happened would be sentenced to insignificance and 
you’d never find out which would just suck for you. 

                                -._.- 

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