I'VE GROWN ACCUSTOMED

The last days of October are usually the most beautiful and charming days of the year. The sun tries one last time more than rather hard to win the simply lost battle against the winter storms, showing us the little power it emphasizes. With the change of seasons and the detested backshift of time it is safe: Darkness does have us back and the first smell of snow blowing down from the glaciers of the Alps overruns the city’s heart. Every year this special sensation catches us again fully unprepared as we’ve grown accustomed this easily to our beloved days in July, but what are those customs we are hope- or hatefully addicted to? And why are we therefore in a state of mind we want the break button to be held? Those situations in between we maybe forgot to appreciate this outstanding moment but were still able to think and even rethink every thing out of the box besides the moment we actually should.

I wonder why we regret such movements as it is in our hands to decide. Are regrets lessons we have to learn in order to realize what we had to do, to become a better or let us say more grown-up person? Maybe it is regrets leading us to let a chance pass by out of our habitude to customs. George Bernhard Shaw reworked the great Greek Myth about Pygmalion at the beginning of the 20^th century caricaturing London’s society. One of the world’s most famous musicals was the final product of Shaw’s oeuvre – My Fair Lady, making impeccable Audrey Hepburn the one and only Eliza Doolittle. It is the very final scene of this piece of art bringing us back to the custom issue. Higgins, the grumpy phonetic-teacher, known as woman hater and treating Eliza the whole piece as a subject of science and of own success sings the following phrase after she left him for maybe ever:

I was serenely independent and content before we met

Surely I could always be that way again but yet

I’ve grown accustomed to her look, her voice, her face

Impalpable things – like the light coming down from a distant star is – do make us regret, often too late to maybe change things in a way round we might not be left without even having known what we had to lose. It is easy criticizing the world around us but it may not be that easy seeing criticism in our regrets, as they are and stay the things we had to walk through in order to even give us the possibility to be sorry for. We may make these errors but should always know never to carry them forward, seeing the future but feeling the past. The only thing we may overpower our customs is the moment we have to tell someone the way we feel for her. I am afraid that this will be the only serious regret we might announce looking back on our lives one day – that too often when we loved, we kept silent.

Cheers

Lorax

A STREETLIFE NAMED DESIRE

From time to time I have the fear, that the moment we stop suffering about our longings will be the one we might be already dead. Are our desires our final stop or will we end in forgetting that reality is made for those who cant stand their dreams? Maybe it is that longings are made for.

Watching the first leaves falling down the colored trees on a cloudy Sunday morning it is the question about our longings and desires, which concerns me. Do we need somebody to wake up with, at least on a sad day like this one to suppress our sorrows, or should we go partying again throwing oneself into the fray – on a restless search what we can find behind our desires? For now I was thinking for a rather long time, why we need to know what a feeling like longing probably do call up inside of us. Is it really about already knowing that we never will be with the one person we might have fallen in love a long time ago without even knowing her that well, is it the feeling of something forbidden or is it simply our entity we need to realize once in a while wonderland is far far away? It is funny that we do connect a metric system like miles with a distance never realizing that it is time, which is the longest distance between two places. Will our desires be forgotten before we are or do we simply relocate them towards one of our different levels of reality letting it tell a new version of our story? Perhaps it is that for we were branded with the ability to cry. Not because we are weak but because we had to stay strong that long.

Longings do affect us in rather many situations of our daily street life. We have everything we desire but nothing we need – even if it is to figure out what our need really is. Maybe we are attracted too often being panicked out of a flying time, immobile, blind and numb with no more action beyond us like an endless search, waiting for the one moment to come we want to detain for ever since now and suddenly, time stands still. This is the moment when someone walks into your life and makes you realize why it never worked with somebody else. We must carry this moment forever with us, like a picture we took with our heart just to make sure we wont lose this very special seconds somewhere on our path.

Longings make us stay alive by making us believe in encounters.

Cheers

Lorax

THE NIGHT OF DESIRES

Roundabout 1700 years ago Saint Lorenzo was martyred to death by the reigning roman emperor and till today the tears he cried to save the poor are seen as fiery shooting stars on the sky in the middle of august, so the Italian fairytale. Nevertheless people around the world and especially in Italy still see these special nights round the 10^th of august as great opportunity to make a wish with every single shooting star they luckily catch the sight of. My mum taught me this very special tradition and until today, it doesn’t matter where I am located I take the time and wait for the star rain. I never got the particularity of this night, as some might see it as every other one, but although it fills myself with a feeling of sentimentality. You may ask how can we even demand for a wish in a world we might own everything we could imagine, but in this special case it isn’t about materiality. It is about the emotion we get by confronting ourselves with the question of what we really want and maybe need. A certain kind of keeping things elementary.

The most special attribute of this night are the reactions of my friends I get back by remembering them to watch the sky. It is exactly therefore we make those wishes – to get some kind words and thoughts back to oneself, like the flying stars finding their route back home. We might say we have everything we desire, but I don’t like restricting the thought of a unique night to the basic needs. Sometimes I get the impression that we forget among all our sorrows on highest level, what it means to appreciate and be appreciated – I don’t see the necessity of suffering, because there isn’t any.

Tonight I would like to thank all those inspiring girls and boys around me, who maybe never get to know that they are and will be my very personal muses making every single of my nights to a memorable one. All those wishes flying down to earth tonight are yours – just catch them and maybe make a wish for me as well.

Thank You

Lorax

THAT'S ALL

For a friend who is afraid to be forgotten

Summer will always remain a thing people can't get at all. Totally overwhelmed by some hot feeling lying next to a lake at a place in the middle of nowhere, the hottest day of the year leaves the question of was that all? Was that our summer experience 2013 and how can the refreshing summer wind simply be the first forerunner of autumn leaves? Is our summer wind friend the one holding our hand when autumn clusters us back to our warm apartments remembering those gorgeous nights out in the heated city? Somehow the summer wind is a symbol of forgetting, passing through and in its own way of lost experience. I wonder why we forget things that easily. We feel our life on our skin like this gentle breeze but keep the feelings rather scarce – the question left remains why?

In most cases forgetting may help us to survive. If we would remember every horrible day we had to get through we probably would kick the bucket faster as we could shop the best sale item, before getting knocked down by our fashion rivals. Nevertheless we may even forget who we are and where we come from by forgetting all those great stories, people and places we were connected with somewhere in our history. Some call it life, letting things go their own way and still I would claim, that forgetting isn’t the way to get through with ourselves as we always fix things rather intense in our memories the more we want to forget it. Are we really happy by forgetting ourselves or is it more a kind of fighting for displacement? A basic instinct? Somewhere in the corner of our minds we surely aren’t that blind and may store all those attitudes, which helped us to become what we are even if we somehow don’t want to have them with us – but they are our records and one out of a range of reasons building our personality. I actually can’t decide if we should forget or better memorize, as life always teaches us no matter how somebody may have harmed us. So maybe things will only leave and let us be if we don’t forget them. It’s like an assurance they demand from by telling us, that if they thought we would forget them they will never cut down. That’s all.

One thing is certain. Next year our moody friend the summer wind will come back remembering us with poor compassion all those things we might have forgotten over the year and that will make us laugh again – and as we all know laughing helps to forget, at least for a few seconds.

Cheers

Lorax

YOU LOOK GREAT - BERLIN

A city defining itself about caring less? Berlin. Sitting on the rooftop terrace of my hotel I reviewed this past weekend in the city – which apparently accepts everyone – and came to even this conclusion. Berlin symbolizes the full range from Chanel to Kebab. Especially during Fashion Week this city gains a special sort of glamour it misses the rest of the year, nevertheless the desired laisser-faire seems forced. People need absolutely to fit the lifestyle the city imposes without reconsidering their perspectives. Everyone looks great in their special understanding of fashion anyhow I gained the feeling the city gets exploited from the rest of the nation. Two times a year the media-film-important-en-vogue-crowd overruns the hottest locations in town, celebrating an art-short-movie or the newest collection of an average talented designer before leaving behind the sleeping beauty, sucked by dry.

Back to Munich I attended one of the last performances of this years opera season. Watching Violetta Valéry die I began to understand the story of Berlin – La Traviata, the one who lost her way. Loved by the right, sabotaged by the wrong while never forgetting to party hard, in the end perishing of tuberculosis – a rather disillusioning goodbye.

So what is it about this nonchalance in life we all may appreciate about the atmosphere a city like Berlin is able to give? A whatever place to feel free? Actually I have to admit that is quite easy passing the days never thinking what may happen tomorrow. We may believe it doesn’t matter in any case – carpe diem in a modern understanding? But is it really a form of making the best of the day living the moment or do we simply appreciate the freedom of thoughtlessness? Somehow a reaction on the overload we are confronted with every single day. It might seem easier letting everything behind but was Violetta right singing the famous words of being free forever? Is a friendship with a moment at least more than a love-story with our life, while forgetting in our immense compulsion to be free that maybe the evanescent delight shouldn’t be a regular on our daily party? Maybe our bright entity permits only this certain kind of friendship because love somehow hinders a free spirit by regulating the own structures of being. What is it about my troubled soul, that nothing ever was able to set you in flame? What joy should it be to love and be loved and why do I reject it? For this life of pointless enjoyment? So Violetta’s words at the end of the first act.

At last we all should thank Berlin for being the free city we all escape to, if the rules of life restrict us that much. Being the way it is without thinking what others may hold us from. Sempre libera – free and aimless turning to the new delights, that make the spirits soar. La Traviata in a very unconventional understanding. Maybe we all should stay Berlin for a night – living the spirit just for a moment simply looking great.

Cheers

Lorax

CLASSY GOODBYE

A tribute

Lexi Featherston was one of the most thrilling characters of Sex And The City’s season 6. Memorable how she fell out of the window of one of New York’s exclusive penthouses seating her last hope to live in a brown silk curtain. Party girls are one of those really special types of a person. Always in search for the next hype or rush they seem to dismiss the world they live in. A 25 year old might be all right with living the party as she is still a girl and it effectively doesn’t matter how drunk or filled with coke she might be because her juvenility still helps her to hold the balance on her Manolos. But what happens 15 years later? Will she die like Lexi with the words You all bore me to death! on her lips? Nevertheless one out of a whole range of possibilities isn’t it? Otherwise she will make Betty Ford a lot richer by passing through her 5^th deprivation always persuaded she is wealthy enough to afford it.

Party girls are the shining stars of every Saturday night. Loved and hated they fill it doesn’t matter which hot spot with this certain kind of atmosphere, as everybody wants to get or stay in touch. Of course haters are going to hate, at least for the complete inappropriate outfit, but for my very own understanding this is whence this kind of woman takes her elixir of life out. They normally aren’t that attractive. They shout out to others trying to get their own lives in an ordered way always being behind making something out of them – somehow a kind of beauty. Nevertheless the time flies. While we had the time of our lives yesterday and sometimes try to continue starting into being a grown up these women seem to be bound to their glory days settled in the past, forgetting the present.

Having my last drink on Saturday night I sat down and watched the party people freaking out. I asked myself why the party girl never gets bored of an overfilled and overheated space like the most nightclubs are and what she hopes to find in a shabby location? What if she joins all those memorable stars in the 27 Club? Partying at least her last goodbye in a classy way and leaving the event for the very first time in her entire existence early? Will she even ever have been able to examine if the time was enough or will she somehow regret by saying there would have been enough time for a change? I wonder if she actually will achieve all she ever dreamed for from partying? I mean all talents she might have got, wasted drunk on a dirty floor running after a poshed up lifestyle, surrounding herself with more or less famous people – is it worth the while? Maybe yes. It helps not looking back. Life isn’t the party we were looking for, that’s what every Party girl somehow has to learn. However what our nocturnal excessive partiers have ahead of us is the ability to dance it doesn’t matter what they get, always prepared to every change of rhythm.

Cheers

Lorax

IT'S UP TO YOU - NEW YORK

The island of Manhattan is a strange place. Totally crowded with millions of people it conveys the feeling of being welcome and home even if you haven’t been there for years. It may be the phenomenon of skyscrapers limiting the space – though you are in between the diversity of the human race a glance up to the sky suffices to feel total loneliness and nevertheless a kind of safety. Yes, it is definitely the skyscrapers, but what do we actually define as our homes and how can we express what it means to ourselves? Is a home where your family is, are your friends you might can find everywhere in the world the better family and are homes as a consequence therefore replaceable? Somebody one day said home is where your heart is – seems easy, effectively quite hard. Maybe this quote should be taken more literal than emotional. As our hearts are inside ourselves – not in all but at least in most cases – we carry our homes along every day it doesn’t matter in which place on our planet we are located for a while by furnishing it with memories we caught up since our ability to remember killed our childhood innocence. So why can a city like New York impact our feeling of home? It’s like coming back to your small hometown, having the impression nothing will ever change while the time stands still. Of course you can discover new adventures at any time but basically the structures last. People – fashion – the subway. You are used to it, that’s why it’s common and might be replaceable much more easily than you could ever have imagined. At the end we are able to replace everything from a broken plate to a friend if we actually just want to, so why are we often afraid of doing the same way with our homes? Human’s nature of convenience? I believe things would go like they did with Rupert Everett and his VIP dressing room he was so proud about getting after his first big success at one of London’s West End theaters. We are flying high. Five minutes. After that it makes us sick.

Every time I breathe the wasted air of New York City it is the bespoke feeling that comes over. What is a home? Can we accept a certain place as the one giving us the safety we need no matter what happens or is it our actual living style we need to get into somewhat deeper in order to establish nearness around us? I am afraid we often avoid the idea of loving the things we actually got in order not to run the risk that someday that something might be gone. In some points Frank Sinatra might end up to be right by singing It’s up to you! Doubtful if he meant the city or his very self. No matter where we will make it or want our vagabond shoes to stray – sometimes home is just a feeling.

Cheers

Lorax

MAKE A WISH

For a true friend

When the magic wears off, reality will still be here and you have to deal with it. Epic moments in life seem to be rare, but why are they? The most situations we have to deal with should get the label epic as we still talk about our daily entity. When we give up the magic in ourselves nothing we ever worked for seems to have any right of existence anymore, but what is it about letting magic enter our lives? I am talking about those moments we suddenly brake out of a daily cluster and let the cold wind lead us to some speechless adventures we might never have experienced out of our natural phlegm.

I am observing a couple at my favorite bar for some weeks now. I am not sure if they are still dating or simply passing their evenings together in a more fashionable location than their proper residence might be, but what I know is, that their reunions seem to take place on a very intimate and quite magic level as they seem to descend in their very own world, with all this pulsing life of a Friday night around them vanishing to the dark. It is the way they look and talk to each other, what makes this weird kind of scene magical. I ask myself if reality will overtake them the moment they cross the doors back again to this cold spring. Anyhow I have the impression from time to time, that the magic I am talking about is still a kind of hideaway we curtain ourselves behind by establishing some fictional world for some hours. Is magic a sort of lie pretending to be the truth?

Magic encounters us more often we actually would believe, but what we never really want to face is what would happen when the magic is gone.

Later that week someone decided to stop the never-ending rain, giving the sun the chance for a comeback. While enjoying the very first summer evening on the steps of the opera house the magic of a whole city overwhelmed me in a rather unusual way. On the one side the moment of a town falling asleep in the dawn, on the other side the thought, that nothing lasts forever. Summer returns every year no matter how bad and sad we might have lived through the days before its final breakthrough. It is sort a outlandish that there is and will always be this deep wish inside of ourselves, getting things the way we certified them, even if they aren’t meant to be alike. Is this even a wish we should and could make? Are wishes meant to last or do they reflect a small sequence of our thoughts and emotional condition? Where stays the magic of a profound wish if it isn’t planned to stay with us? Maybe we all must learn and accept to be broken up with something just to get a better state of mind for our surrounding world and us. How can we even care for our wishes if we cant care? Is it allowed to make wishes in a dishonest way? Somehow we should again face reality and remind that a breakup also in a wishes context, isn’t always that bad. It may hurt but maybe it is the only way. In the end Oscar Wilde was right by telling us that divorces are made in heaven, so maybe we should start to step beside our daydreams and let reality be real.

But even if reality will only start to care when we are gone, why should we adjust our dreams and wishes? Divorces may be a celestial phenomenon but if our dreams wont scare us out of a reason of sense, they aren’t big enough.

The sky might be the limit – not for our dreams.

Cheers

Lorax

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SUN, SEA & SUNGLASSES

There seem to be a few fixed dates during the year in which the whole world wants to board the next flight to the very same destination. The highly fashionable island Sylt in the middle of the German northern sea is the hotspot of more or less every socialite during the Pentecost holidays, turning to a certain kind of Disney World for adults for a weekend only. The funny thing about this scattershot get together is that nearly everything takes places on an area of roundabout 5 km², compared to the most central areas of it doesn’t matter which city the groundwork for coincidences. Coincidences – are they real or again a consequence of decisions we take? It is weekends like the bespoke, which let me muse about how it is even possible to hit exactly the folks we would or even not would like to see more than once within 48 hours. Is it really that difficult to avoid the one who broke your heart or your archenemy among beach parties, dinner invitations and clubbing? Obviously it is, so maybe this might be the reason why everybody on the island wears sunglasses in the dark.

I guess coincidences are those strange things between science and fate we have to accept for ourselves as those, we can’t control anymore, like the rough sea, we actually cant swim in. I mean what would sometimes have happened, if we chose in an instant to go the complete opposite direction. Would we have met someone special earlier and what are coincidences meant to be for our road of life? Are they actually comparable to destiny or might this be a something too spiritual view for deciding a path to be gone or not? Maybe it is even the point in which we have to stop worrying about the what-ifs and the should-haves in order to stay clear in mind. Nevertheless it confuses me, how it might be possible to meet someone perfectly unknown in front of a night club, the next day at the same restaurant for breakfast, afterwards at the same house party and to top it all on the same plane back home. I mean, OK. Space is limited – but suchlike? Where do coincidence and destiny meet and are those simple constructs siblings in mind or distant relatives?

While I was resting a bit at the beach from a running and rather excessive party the whole collective looked forward to on Sunday afternoon, I couldn’t resist of thinking about coincidences over and again. Basically they seem to be nothing but a consequence of choices and choices are and will stay the frame of showing, which person we really are far more than our abilities ever will. Do we have a choice? I often had those moments in life asking myself what would have happened if I chose in a situation differently before? Surely I wouldn’t be settled in life where I find myself now but maybe I would have done the one or the other more exotic and freaky thing. Moving to Berlin for my studies was one of them for example. Obviously it is better doing something than doing nothing. Being stuck is even worse than getting the wrong direction, even if I maintain the point of view that a wrong could not be possible in life-choices. Everything might be for some reason and even if we cannot realize it for the very moment, I can’t leave the feeling that sometimes I could have done better for my very own. I am and will still reach for something greater, better, more fashionable, and waiting maybe for a further moving by accident enabling it.

Maybe it is again an issue of sunglasses – by taking them off we might find the coincidences we were meant for somehow easier by clearing our visibility, but why should we take them off, when we could find our sunshine somewhere else?

Cheers

Lorax

THESE WORDS

Yves Saint Laurent once upon a time told the following phrase to a fashion journalist, who asked him what the perfect dress should look like: The most beautiful clothes that can dress a woman are the arms of the man she loves. But for those who haven't had the fortune of finding this happiness, I am there. Should this be love? In a down to earth way – maybe. Yves seemed kind of overmodest but expressed contemporarily his deepest thoughts in this great quote. By hiding his own light, no his life he expressed in designing phenomenal pieces of garment, under a bushel only saying that love described in a metaphor of two strong arms is more worth than his central point of his very own life, he puts the love issue upon nearly everything. I ask myself if he ever was that lucky to experience this feeling and will I ever do? How many unreturned love stories do we have to pass through before finding the other half or will we end like the great master of French fashion alone and secluded? Would we be worth less without someone next to us? In fact it seems not a matter of worth but one of the own appreciation. How do we feel by staying alone and are we happier with it? Do we finally need someone who waits for us at night?

Actually I do adore evenings all alone with myself. Today is one of them. Thinking about the love issue more profoundly, while examining all the Nighthawks of this mild night in May sitting next to my window, I had to note, that we lie to ourselves that often concerning our emotional state of mind. That cool and calm folks we would like to get across isn’t exactly what we were made for. We were made for kissing, loving, struggling, crying and maybe it should happen as often as possible simply reminding us that we are besides all of our daily boast still there being able to hear the words we sometimes wait too desperately for. I am sure that regardless how often somebody told us her last goodbye, knowing she can’t come back, these words still stand up. Regardless how often we got disappointed, standing back frustrated and depressed it was and will be that important to have known somebody, who stood by you loving unconditionally, no matter if the story ended up in disbelief.

Love – curtain of the past, revealing an extraordinary future.

Cheers

Lorax

YOU'VE CHANGED

A friend of mine today told me that a last piece in her still hopes to get a greater good. A place inside herself, where to find the inner needs or requirements apart from all superficial positions we have to face ourselves to in a world of the 21^st century. What is it we all are searching for? No – I am not talking as one of those neurotic characters Woody Allen tries to concern about, by trying to get his very own problems in an order to live with. I mean what is the real one thing we are looking for. A huge part of my entourage would immediately be able to answer to this question in their very simple manner, by repeating answers a society like we find ourselves in, likes to pretend:

Money – Success – maybe Family. The more forced an answer is the more clearly pseudo intellectual or pathetic the statements will be. Health or Luck will clarify the issue soon for some of us, but for my own all those requirements never really explore the complicate inside-out manner of every single person. I unluckily don’t know if my neurosis gets over me and only tries to detain me from things I should better wise do or if I absolutely need to bring my thoughts in a concrete order by maybe finding some answers. After all, things change, but is there a time for it?

By holding the status quo we seem to try to escape in a state of mind we don’t ever want to change. It seems a mistake to be stuck in the middle of any conveniences, but aren’t mistakes the simple reason how we compete in life? Somehow, what we need is more time. Time for – whatever. Journeys, love, fashion: Just a further way in finding what we are and what we want. Sounds pathetic. In fact it is. Actually I follow the belief in a never-ending development of personality. I mean everybody telling me he or she finally found THE way of life in it does not matter which case has to lie to herself. There is no THE, it is just an A. For some it might be following a career path, given from the very beginning, for others it might be simply strange adventures at midnight. Maybe our view of the system stays too dualistic. A separation like in today’s society is no more the one of bad and good. Borders are blurred in a Batman style. Nobody seems to know who is right at the end of the day – like Bruce Wayne who is fighting basically for revenge occasionally defeating the bad boys. We should accept that there would never be a right or a wrong for ourselves, too. It’s a matter of choosing a lane or even not and letting some changes enter our lives. Everything changes: seasons do, as a city or the people we surround ourselves with. Our lives seem that restless and though we would never get along without some issues involving some natural dissimilarity. But why does everything always have to change? For myself, I do believe that life is not a single picture you look at, maybe finding constantly new details. No. Life is more than rather a movie. And it’s in a movies nature to change pictures. So why are we this often afraid to rearrange our concepts and start into something completely unknown – a kind of moving on? And are we ever really able to change a situation without changing ourselves, letting a well-known darkness we probably have achieved in any of our relations behind? In fact it seems quite impossible, but thankfully the term itself declares it as the complete opposite: I M possible. Thank you Audrey Hepburn!

Cheers

Lorax

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THE STORYTELLER

He lives the story – not his life. This might be the résumé of two hilarious and rather inspiring hours in the sun together with one of my most heartily friends, somewhere in the museums quarter on a creepy Sunday afternoon. Why I came to even this issue about telling stories, depends on a guy the both of us were talking about. A guy who might have perfected the way of living the life as a beloved or maybe even dreamed story he built around his very self. I admit that I don’t know him that well on a personal level, but in every of our always occasional getting together he symbolizes, and not only to me the belonging to another time of the 20^th century. It’s primarily about his style but all above about his eloquence bringing you to the idea this man has boarded a time machine some when in the golden twenties and has left all those great intellectuals and artists, from Ernest Hemingway to Salvador Dalí simply to get faced to an epoch his soul seems lost in. Last time I saw him, he was passing by on his bicycle, vintage of course, with a pair of gorgeous cognac-colored-calf-leather brogues, shoelaces in red and his steady companion, a tweed jacket – the accomplished Francis Scott Fitzgerald look. I often wonder if he ever gets connected to our world and our style. He sometimes seems thus affected in projecting his own understanding of an ideology to the rest of his entourage he might forget the story he lives. But are we ever able to change the story we were giving to get along with? Can we even tell a story of life while we are actually still living it? Maybe we try to display a perfect image of ourselves by telling stories we might never have heard of, by blurring the own imperfections away. But can any story be told were perfection is found? I think it was Harvey Weinstein, one of Hollywood’s most famous storytellers who brought it to the point by saying, that we are mostly fascinated of what we do, but over all we love how people look at it, that’s why we might love doing it perfectly. He also said that people love a true story, so what should we give the preference at least – the truth or a variation of it?

Later that day I began thinking in a story telling context, what we might want to achieve by telling some. I mean besides the fact of putting some records straight it remains an entertaining issue, it doesn’t matter in which range of story we are delayed: Opera – Film – Art. All of them want to tell a story in order to might letting forget the own conditions we are located in for a certain while. Perhaps we should understand our own told story more as an artistic act, in order to let us forget what we actually are having sort of a showdown with. Never complain, never explain – that’s what I was told last week and I admit that it fits even in our story’s coherence. So why should we bother about living the story while forgetting to live, when living is nothing but a story to tell.

Cheers

Lorax 

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OVERKILL MANIA

Sometimes the strange need of leaving overcomes me and I have to pack up my stuff, turning my back on the city from one instant to another. So it did happen after the rather disillusioning opening event of the new Louis Vuitton Maison that week. I don’t know if my expectations where to high or if it may get constantly difficult to impress me, but I was kind of disappointed by the demonstrated show. I don’t even know if it was the event by itself or the highly valuable guests celebrating some new bags – what I know is that I struggled with myself and my own reflection on others. Is it possible that we lead our lives like some weird dress code on a fancy invitation? Sometimes Black Tie, sometimes Cocktail and sometimes simply Come As You Are! Why are we ever and over again thus affected to be the ones, anybody wants us to be? Do expectations and reality ever even get close and do we really want to be part of a world, in which C-list celebrities are paid court to, solely Marc Jacobs himself should obtain?

It was the point to step outside and clear my head – direction south – next stop Italy!

While I was driving through the marvelous hills of Tuscany on my direct way to Florence I tried rather hard to examine why I had to escape from the city’s clutches helter-skelter. Is it possible to get a literal overkill from everything and is the only solution passing some days in soleness to get things back on track? I mean if it is really that hard to lead our lives the way, we as actual independent-thinking folks decided to, why do we get thereof overmuch every once in a while? Taking my first Espresso on Piazza della Signoria I watched the gorgeous Italian guys pursuing their daily business with an untouchable and thus so much unaffected sophistication, on an oddish level similar to the attitude of a cigarette – nostalgic romance of smoking and I don’t care mindset at once. I am not sure, but again am able to guess that even this sentiment might be an answer to overkills, handling them all’italiana and letting them pass through like the yearly tourist flood at the Uffizi Gallery.

Overkill – an expression we use this often in our daily life, but what it is ultimately about? Is it nothing but overdoing things we are accustomed to and which may concern all of our routine? Maybe it is more of an overload of information, than a literal killer, as I am not convinced that our own lives may assassinate ourselves – a kill is not an overkill. It seems to be more about changing the very own structures, like our friends, enemies or even political goodwill to get through with this sort of lesson.

Back in Munich – back in style. While unpacking my Florentine shopping achievements the subject of overkills didn’t get off my head. Maybe even overkills are likewise a cigarette’s smoke – disappearing into thin air and still bringing a something to a higher level. Without overkills we might never examine what really struggles us and we would literally miss the opportunity for some new inspiration in life. Like many things in our personal entity we need to get tired of some issues – even if it is a simple invitation for a party you were absurdly behind – in order to inspire ourselves for upcoming proceedings. Inspiration via overkill – at least it is a starting point, bringing us somewhere new.

Cheers

Lorax

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BRING THE ACTION

Saturday at lunchtime I had a really amusing get together with the parents of a friend of mine at the jammed It-Grill, downtown. After having let the usual small talk behind us the father started to test me an my psychological awareness by talking rather direct and sarcastically to me about some issues concerning the future. Certainly I could have answered overreacting by understanding his way of talking more offensive and personal like, but I simply shared his game and answered - at least I think I did - quite full of animating spirit. The conversation thus turned out as great fun with more than a plenty of ironic comments about a diversity of rather less actual topics.

While I was walking home through the crowded city, full of weekend tourists and shopping victims I began, inspired by this exceptional get-together, to think about what reaction actually is about. I mean why do people often react this different to issues, which may seem clear to your very self? One single sentence to two different characters might provoke two different viewings or even worlds. Strange as I would claim that we should react on a scientific level all the same, but we actually don’t! Is it really a matter of origin, education or simply ones nature to let us assimilate things that various? Action and reaction – two deeps so close and therefore so far in their actual motivation, as reaction is nothing but a consequence on someone’s action. But isn’t every action a reaction on an action before? Both are equal and opposite at the same time – confusing though.

I often wonder how people do react from time to time on some weird word, an attentive glance or a slight, uncareful touch. All attributes of flirting though, the misunderstanding, which appears in very many cases is often hardly to get, as the intention of someone’s appreciation might simply have been out of an random level of sympathy and nothing further more. Why do we have to take ourselves this lot too serious and can’t even accept, that there mustn’t be this regular an superior being of human relation? Sometimes we should agree that great Amy Winehouse was right by singing her famous words of love as a losing game, simply because people will in most cases react rather unexpected ways.

Later that week I was waiting for a cab after a very late aperitif, in front of the Charles Hotel, where the reaction topic didn’t literally get of my back, as I had to overhear a rather heated discussion of one of those typical fashionable couples about some childishness. For me as a spectator it seemed kind of obvious, that the she was overreacting in an exaggerated dimension, as the issue of dispute concerned their simple should we take a cab or the subway planning. The he stayed amazingly cool, letting her totally blow off. In such moments my curiosity would love to lead an interview with the minds of the presented show, in order to better understand why such a situation is even possible to provoke: How is their private actual situation? Did he cheat on her? Is she giving him a second chance out of the angst no one better could even want her? Or is she simply a cow he is the only one to handle the best? And probably most important; is her way of reacting even justified? Funny as I would say that we often are able to handle situations, which are highly out of our business with absolute objectivity, but are on the opposite hardly capable to arrange our own situations like a somewhat clear-thinking being - is reaction hindering ratio? Maybe it isn't that easy as we should never forget that emotions are the ratio's biggest enemies and will never let it get in touch concerning the very own reaction issues. So what is the clue about action and reaction? I mean without darkness, there wouldn‘t be stars, so therefore they are nothing but a consequence of a natural phenomenon and that's why we might compare stars to reactions; simply fascinating and depending on someone‘s mood - or the weather.

Cheers

Lorax

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FEEL IT

Call it crazy – while I was walking home from a totally random evening through the first summer rain with my new Saint Laurent sunglasses on at 2.30 am, I was holding on for some minute, simply to feel this very special drops of water flowing down my skin. I felt the rain. This first forerunner of some steamy, hot days in July smelled like fresh and new life – the heated asphalt, the dry soil getting wet and fulfilling the city with a gorgeous scent of summer. So I was standing in the middle of somewhere in this city, as some issue came up my mind: why do we always have to run? I mean literally rain by itself is the best example showing us, that we are hardly able to sustain even the mightily simplest situations without running. Is it again a primary instinct everyone is with or are we always trying to break out of something, somebody supposes us to stand inside?

To get craziness a bit further I sat down on a park bench, to watch people chasing through the night and escaping the wet weather. Running might be actually one of the rather few things people are still capable to do perfectly it does not matter where or when. For some, the special something our lives hold back for us will never be even attainable, as they find themselves on a steady marathon from one stage to the next: High School – College – Job – Career – Death. Where is the space for some experience left? When do we ever have the fortune to get what we want ourselves to be?

A rather wise man once gave me great advise by telling me: Darling. Stay young as long as you have the chance to be – than this is the only and single time in your life, in which your experiences are still able to form you and your style. What if every single raindrop I felt during this night represents some piece of experience and what if I would simply rush through the summer storm, driven by the basic thought of being successful some when in my future thereness? What if I would miss every single of that drops, because I thought of something pathetically more important? If I run right now, will I be happy at an age of forty-something or will I finally decide to run away to live a life I always wanted to? Running again? Tragic, as we often even cannot recognize, that it stays basically in our hands to pattern a life the way we want it to be, ahead a view of expectations. Maybe we should start to feel the rain, instead of getting wet.

Cheers

Lorax

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SAME SAME

I am convinced that there is a point in everybody’s entity, in which a deadly stuffiness about the circumstances of life in a city, where everything is already known grows up. Why are we bored that easily from things, that may be even unreachable for many of our fellowmen and why are we that thankless to gather them the best as they are? I had exactly this reasoning the past weekend as I was consternated about the fact, that in a rather sprawling city, like Munich loves to demonstrate itself, it is even not possible to vary among a choice of evening locations satisfactorily – but why? Do we actually have to do things quickly in order to never get bored? Is it really same like same, day after day with the hundredth and identical Carpaccio you will get at every random and more or less fashionable Italian restaurant, or is it ourselves, which are to convenient to creak out of our comfort zones and get new experiences in maybe undiscovered quarters? I mean in an assimilable media world like we rediscover our selves within, we aren’t even capable to define what we want and search for in a rather personal context and often try to escape to a parallel tier, which seems restless simply in order to never be in the tight spot to confront us with our actual needs – or why do you think a phenomenon like metro sexuality is even attainable? But what do we expect? Endless entertainment?

For myself this is a fact to begin with, completely converse. It was gorgeous John Cage, one of America’s most famous composers to state the right words against boredom: If something is boring after two minutes, try it for four. If still boring, then eight. Then sixteen. Then thirty-two. Eventually one discovers that it is not boring at all. Is it our absolute flight instinct detaining us from something new by keeping us from giving things a chance to last?

Later that week the first sights of summer appeared as the sun decided to get finally it’s great revival - those slightly warm days when after a decade of depressing and freezing weather in a never ending winter, the only thing you actually think about when you get up in the morning is to unpack the new pair of Tod’s loafers you bought during a mental derangement on an irritating warm day some when in February. It is always amusing to observe people and their positive changing of mood on such a day by wearing the new Burberry trench, of course some sunglasses or as seen on a few ladies a very optimistic skirt. I decided to pass this phenomenal first day of Italian summer feeling together with some friends on one of Munich’s unfortunately few rooftops to get the first sun burner of the year – it felt like holiday! Recapulating the afternoon rather drunk in my bed later that day I arrived to the conclusion that it must be our very own to shape the every day it doesn’t matter how hard it may get, as a holiday. It stays in our pockets to make our journey a thrilling one – but maybe sometimes it is not the journey, but it is about the destination.

Cheers

Lorax