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

WHAT WOULD I DO WITHOUT YOU?

Hello solitude – how about passing our evening together? Just the two us? I remember a time, when being all for myself aroused more mixed feelings inside of me. But was or still isn’t a certain feeling of loneliness betweenwhiles hustling self-reflection along? We are constantly living in a world of permanent communication and exchange of opinions, in which the examination of the very self becomes obviously less important. The steady running after some social attachments detains us from admitting a certain access to our heartstrings. But what is this angst we are afraid of, the moment we are alone?

I feel lonely in a variety of regards, though I love staying in pleasant company talking for hours. Often I can’t even explain why the feeling of solitude suddenly appears. What I know is, that feeling sole inspires me in a weird but very personal way. Maybe it’s just another creation the so-called neurosis I am this adversely affected by provokes, but I still have the sensation that I find a very close and profound way to myself in moments of loneliness.

In the early evening, shortly after closing time I was walking through the city together with the last shopping remains, when I apparently felt all alone inside the life of a whole town – among a million people. I asked myself how many of my attendants through the dawn might feel like I am doing and if they are, can they actually examine it? I may represent the thesis that desolated people might feel alone in any kind of situation often camouflaged by high spirits even on a wild Saturday night. Do we have to stand-alone from time to time in order to prove that we can still stand? What would we do without solitude? Could we even endure our lives without the ability of being for ourselves, when it comes to the point?

After an extended after-work-cocktail-hour I began thinking about solitude among relationships. Essentially any kind of relation it does not matter if old or new brings us somewhere, but what is it about the relation to ourselves – isn’t it highly challenging and more exciting to get over with ourselves and is the handling with the own you a further consequence of a certain loneliness? Am I happy with my personal solitude? I would say I am, as solitude is nothing sad or depressing for my understanding, but furthermore an invisible connection I have with many fellow men, which may see it as an attitude to life, too. Maybe it is again a factor of maturity to appreciate this sort of living even more, as we will understand how important it will ever stay to be clear about our own personality, in order to lead a good life and to maintain regardful relations. Rainer Maria Rilke found some very congenial words to this context: I hold this to be the highest task for a bond between two people: that each one protects the solitude of the other.

I don’t know if the subject of solitude is a real lifetime choice, temporariness or more a consequence of actions we gain through our acting in life, but what would I do without it?

Maybe simply live on.

Cheers

Lorax

FRIDAY FREAK SHOW

I adore Fridays! I will never completely understand what this feeling is about on a Friday afternoon. Where comes this matter of freedom and lightness from and why is everybody in such a good mood – just because weekend is within grasp? Sometimes I can’t leave the intuition that we organize our lives from Friday to Friday letting all those fabulous things, which could happen from Monday to Thursday pass by, focused in such a way on some free hours. Anyway. Fridays are great! By the way: Urban dictionary declares Fridays as a great feeling. Happy. No more shit for two days! Is it this easy? Actually I declare for myself Friday evenings as the beginning of a marathon of social debates about everything. It is funny as though to the hilarious spirit, spread by everyone, conflicts with your closest friends are hardly to avoid either. Anyhow!

This weeks Friday started with one of those fancy restaurant openings the city of Munich is favored with more than ten times a month – concerning my feeling so far! Munich is one of those typical spots, which will never loose its spirit in being thus over the top and that’s exactly the attitude its citizens display; but back again to our opening. So – a new location, absolutely needed in the city’s club landscape and nevertheless just a further average hot spot among a variety. Actually the club itself is not the main topic. It’s the folks visiting it. One of my dearest hobbies is the random observation of my surroundings. It is one of my biggest pleasures studying society. There is probably no other city in the world in which people move with such certainty through the night. Everybody is rich, has nothing to worry about and holds this phenomenal film-star-attitude. Maybe that is one of those reasons why really famous guys enjoy living here. They willnever be bothered by anyone just out of the reason that the any ones consider themselves at least equal to the spotted celebrity. Hilarious!

Besides the species of IIPs (imagined important persons) there is a further type of human beings: the Munich diggers! Preferably coming from one of the sub-sub-urban-areas this species specialized themselves on daggering for social rise. In most cases it shouldn’t be that difficult as lower-minded people are in most cases pleased with small chucks but in some special issues the case gets a hardship one. No – it’s not me who is resentful! Take a lookaround and you will agree! A girl who is having a crush on me over more than eight weeks now may be a very pleasant example. She tried that hard I lost interest after a couple of clashes in the places to be, what finally ended in a big showdown in the early Saturday morning – at the bar – drunk – in a club. Not even the best conditions in order to maintain a probable friendship. Actually I think that wasn’t her aim. She desperately tried to achieve a sort of relation by pushing it way to hard. Error number one this species does – every time. You may ask was she that bad to push her away like some Prada Brogues gone out of fashion? Maybe not – but that is the Munich digger girl’s problem. I will never get the, let’s call it thing this sort of women are working for. Money may be one out of a hundred reasons but what they really never get is, that some guys are born with a natural fugue! Never try to constrict them. Where does this claim of ownership come from? Is it human’s nature to hog everything emotionally likeable around and why? Are we victims of the relationship-compulsive-hoarding-syndrome? I will never get this anyway.

Later in the night I had one of those drunken conversations with a friend of mine who’s working as a doorman at one of the city’s hottest clubs. After the obligatory and random small talk we came to the point what going out is ultimately about? What are we all searching for by pulling out-nighters week per week? Are we escaping our single lives afraid of maybe dying alone on the sofa? In a certain way we are all a kind of freak. Obviously it stays a rule of our twenty something existence going out and experiencing life in an unconditional manner, but anyhow in a wide range of cases it stays a diversionary maneuver. Are we living the freak in us to burst mainstream?

The interesting thing about freaks is that they mainly think they may be sort of special but are even not at last, as they will rediscover themselves among their sort automatically. A freak among freaks is nothing than mainstream again. So maybe let us just celebrate our visionary individual entity and start into another phenomenal night! Bring the bottle!

Cheers

Lorax

TWO BODIES - ONE MIND

How many stories do begin with the famous and well-known words once upon a time…? Normally it is even this kind of story literally ending happily; but interpreting them on another level the memories of our childhood may appear on a rather departed context. I mean once upon is part of a time which is actually gone, isn’t it? Talking about friendships, I often get the strange impression, that this social construction between two individuals is even more emotionally instable as the biggest love stories could be and that many friendships we had until now and we will have in the future may possibly have been and be just a further station on our train journey called life, as there is a steadily getting on and off movement.

Maybe friendship is a matter of timing, as one has to know how to react in a certain situation, letting someone hurl into the own destiny and then picking up the shards together. I had even this discussion with a friend of mine as she decided to take some choices I did not agree that much, but I simply let her go her path. As I didn’t react in the to her accustomed manner in habituated situations, things got complicated, as she claimed a stage of friendship, which was absolutely far away from reality. It’s not that I depreciated her value of being close; it is simply another phase of relation between two persons, but what is the real meaning of a friend nowadays? Sometimes I get kind of confused as we use the word friend all too often and mostly not reflected enough. What is the essential about a friend in a world, where there wouldn’t pass a weekend without accepting half a dozen new friends on a social media platform? That was the point where I began thinking about soul mates. Maybe this certain and very profound connection to someone in our environment can explain sometimes better what being a friend should be. Even if I sometimes might have been doubtful about the existence of soul mates I now have to declare for myself consequently: yes, they do – as I recently found a real neighbor of soul in some really random situation at a nightclub. In my very own understanding soul mates must not even know you for years, but you will feel a special connection of trusting each other. No words to be spoke – a simple glance might suffice.

Later in the night, while I was rereading Paulo Coelho’s The Zahir I came across one of those memorable quotes, which coincidentally matched perfectly to my thoughts: When someone leaves, it’s because someone else is about to arrive. Do we truly have limited capacity for friendship? Actually we all should admit that though we might have an amount of acquaintances, true friends are rare; but why are they? Are there really those few mates to be close with, and the rest is simply existent, in order to have a good time? I think I am not in the actual grade of maturity to find an answer to that question, yet.

Friendships never go out of style as your friends are the family you have chosen by your very self and it is still calming, knowing someone walking not in front, not behind but besides yourself. Friendship is a form of love, which sometimes gets even to a deeper understanding of the very other, than a random love affair ever will. It is this strange feeling of safeness, having someone without commitment you can laugh, cry and talk trashy or seriously with, always knowing that you can have honestly confidence into her or him. It is again to trust someone finally, what makes a friend close. I admit that they were and surely will be situations, when I barely lost the whole faith in trusting someone, recognizing that Oscar Wilde was right saying that a true friend stabs you in the front. Seen on a different level this is simply a variation of trust at it goes thus deeply saying, that someone who is really honest in your very presence might only kill you with your full courtesy. Besides the fact that you might be dead afterwards still a polite act, even if you feel the mortal agony for some seconds longer than being dispatched from behind.

When you pass a lot of time with the same person it might be natural, that you will get annoyed of some things you only could know simply out of the reason of a deep friendship. But aren’t it even those little things you may miss the most when they are gone? Maybe we should reconsider some situations before getting to a final decision concerning a specific trying situation with a friend, as they might never be avoided completely. Friends will drop off your train, but fortunately we live in a globalized world – there are airplanes, too.

Cheers

Lorax

THE ESSENCE OF ITALIAN STYLE

Federico Fellini made himself immortal with a scene from his probably most popular film: La Dolce Vita – and I am not talking about Anita Ekberg splashing around in La Fontana di Trevi. The very first encounter between the two main characters of the first episode, Maddalena and Marcello is epic. The both of them meeting in a fashionable nightclub of Rome’s Via Veneto, before passing the night together in a prostitute’s apartment they get to in a Cadillac Cabriolet emphasizes, that even the most absurd situations can be managed with great style. The very class and deadly dullness Maddalena acts with, during the whole sequence, is a declaration of love to Italy and its lifestyle. It is even this particular mix of Jet Set and grandezza, which helps the Italian nation to solve nearly every problem until nowadays. For my very own understanding it is the theory of sprezzatura, which could describe this special phenomenon best – doing everything, it doesn’t matter how hard it may seem, effortless. That’s probably why whole Italy is wearing sunglasses with an arising snow blizzard, because nothing can be this terrible to leave the apartment without the newest pair of GUCCI shades.

During my stay at the Salzburg Easter Festival I had the opportunity to keep track of the bespoke phenomenon of style. Other than at other Opera Houses, where the impression of an increasingly incomprehension of fashion is observable, the audience at a festival – and especially in Salzburg – dresses to kill for every single performance they take part of. The amount of furs, diamonds, evening dresses and tuxedos is to compare to nothing similar. I do really appreciate, that there is still a sense for style among the often as outmoded labeled opera audience, and it is again the Italians being vanguard in a fashionable context – there is nothing comparable to a real signora.

After the last performance on Monday evening I headed over to famous Hotel Sacher to have dinner with some friends from Hamburg and Rome, where I had the great chance to meet the former assistant of Valentino, one of Italy’s most famous designers. This lady literally embodies the essence of Italian style. Though in her middle seventies she still assures that style might simply be an outer expression of an inner peace of mind, which may not be fully grown before having achieved a certain age.

Still impressed of this chance encounter I drove back home steadily thinking about, why a seemingly superficial issue like the one of being fashionable or in style is this important, or even not. Is style only about impressing the proper entourage or giving a falsified image to our surroundings?

Talking about style it might be an exaggerated understanding of self-confidence and a slight narcissism to make oneself appearing classy. Marcello Mastroianni may have been one leading example during the Italian post-war time demonstrating with a natural nonchalance, living style as a new form of luxury – the extravagance of being someone else and that is what the idea of fashion is about, isn’t it? The possibility of being someone completely different every single day, simply out of a mood – so maybe we should just be what we are.

Cheers

Lorax