Sticks and stones may break my bones

Now. Long time no read. I am not even sure if anyone will check this. Anyways. As always, a prelude of some kind to introduce my blog postings.

I am overworked.
At the same time it is strangely comforting to think about all the possibilities that some pieces of paper and coined metal discs have to offer.

I want to see the sea again. I miss it so much. I want to stand at a beach, barefoot, inhale the breeze and just gaze upon the waterfront.
I want to be held. At least sometimes. Nothing sexual, really – just the comfort of another human being close to me.
I want to scream away my sadness, drink away my loneliness, forget about mortality, child birth, family and that strange little demon inside of me that apparently hates me.
I want to have a healthy sleep rhythm and _not_ feel bored by the sheer thought of normality. I want to be myself and somehow still cannot fully relate to that seemingly awesome person that some of my friends describe. I just can’t.

Loneliness creeps up on you. Yet somehow there’s a new pattern. That new pattern involves less sex. Not an ideal solution – but it cuts down the awful experiences too. So, maybe a good thing.

No. Not really. Also, given the POOR quality of porn around, I am living quite the chaste life at the moment.

When the demons ride me too hard, I flee my four walls and go out. It’s fun, sometimes, and on very relaxed evenings great things do happen, yes.

But I’d really like a big, over-dimensionally square body guard sometimes to keep the waves of idiots at bay that seem oh so interested in sharing their sweaty, alcohol-infused and insecure little pick-up lines with me. PLEASE, UNIVERSE!  Please.

I will get a corset this week. I am not able to eat chocolate pudding without thinking of quality sex, it’s not about that, and you know it, the self-loathing seems to be strong lately and in general nobody really has to get this sentence.

I am happy about good friends. Sometimes they are lifelines without even knowing it.

I miss the sea. But I said that already.

Please enjoy my randomness. It needed to be done.

Yours truly,



Game over


Oh, life is bigger
It’s bigger than you
And you are not me
The lengths that I will go to
The distance in your eyes
Oh no, I’ve said too much
I set it up

That’s me in the corner
That’s me in the spotlight, I’m
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I don’t know if I can do it
Oh no, I’ve said too much
I haven’t said enough
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try

Every whisper
Of every waking hour I’m
Choosing my confessions
Trying to keep an eye on you
Like a hurt lost and blinded fool, fool
Oh no, I’ve said too much
I set it up
Consider this
Consider this
The hint of the century
Consider this
The slip that brought me
To my knees failed
What if all these fantasies
Come flailing around
Now I’ve said too much
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try

But that was just a dream
That was just a dream

(repeat chorus)

But that was just a dream
Try, cry, why try?
That was just a dream
Just a dream, just a dream


It still hurts, I’m still sleepless. I feel I don’t have anyone to share my pain with and I’m desperately trying to find my reset button this time. Life is a bitch and for all I know I need to ride her and don’t want to.


There you go. Confession time. Level up, I guess.



funlevel 0 has been reached.

Ich, die sich an ihren Tiefs ergötzt als wären’s Sonnenuntergänge am Meer.
Ich, die die Wut sucht und an den falschen Orten findet.
Ich, die schreit wenn es still ist und still ist wenn sie schreien möchte.
Ich, die sich Kanäle durch Noten schneidet, über Pfade meiner Worte trampelnd findet sich nach Grau und Gleichmut dann immer noch
Ein Weg. Und weint man, schreit man, lacht man manisch. Ein Weg.

Devices mounted,


A tribute to Kinky

Liebe Leserschaft,

Nachdem ich jetzt eine halbe Stunde darüber nachgedacht habe, wie ich den Tod meiner Kleinen in angemessene Worte kleiden soll, wie ich den Schmerz verarbeiten soll, den ein blöder Unfall und 10 Minuten im sterbenden Leben eines Kaninchens in mein Leben gerissen hat….

bleibt mir nur eines zu sagen: Kinky ich liebe Dich für jeden Moment den Du mir geschenkt hast und ich liebe Dich für die Tatsache, daß mir mit Tränen in den Augen das Lachen nicht vergeht wenn ich an Dich denke – und deshalb muß ich auch genau bei solchen Videos an Dich denken. Der Tod ist dem Leben ein guter Freund. And while we’re at it, let’s do it. Let’s live.

In liebender Erinnerung an heuduftendes Kinkyfell und ihre wunderbare Art zu leben,