Essence » Essence

Siebdruck

Alexander — Sat, 27 Oct 2007 12:07:07 +0000

Das Resultat des Drucks folgt in ein paar Tagen.
30-sec-how-to: Vorlage unter aufgespanntes (z.B. auf Bilderrahmen) Sieb (oder Vorhangstoff) kleben. Mit Siebdrucklack (oder gut deckendem Leim) alle negativen Stellen übermalen. Trocknen lassen. Fertig.

Engineer’d

Alexander — Thu, 16 Aug 2007 19:33:13 +0000

An engineered reply

Alexander — Thu, 16 Aug 2007 11:21:22 +0000

Sagmeister’s Manifesto

Alexander — Mon, 13 Aug 2007 10:47:09 +0000

Helping other people helps me
Having guts always works out for me
Thinking that life will be better in the future is stupid. I have to live now
Being not truthful always works against me
Everything I do always comes back to me
Assuming is stifling
Drugs feel great in the beginning and become a drag later on
Money does not make me happy
Travelling alone is helpful for a new perspective on life
Keeping a diary supports personal development
Trying to look good limits my life
Material luxuries are best enjoyed in small doses
Worrying solves nothing
Complaining is silly. Either act or forget
Actually doing the things I set out to do increases my satisfaction
Everybody thinks they are right
Low expectations are a good strategy
Everybody who is honest is interesting

Stefan Sagmeister's Manifesto from Icon Magazine's 50th issue: Manifestos.

What’s Cool In April

Anonymous — Wed, 11 Jul 2007 20:01:27 +0000

the definite list (courtesy of Marvel comics) …guess the year!

Four big fish

Alexander — Fri, 18 May 2007 17:00:42 +0000

Jerofeev, Bulgakov, Pelevin, Majakovskij.

Der Masterplan für 2007

Alexander — Thu, 04 Jan 2007 23:50:46 +0000

Eine kleine Anleitung für dieses Jahr: hat man grosse Ideen, ist es unerlässlich, sich gleich zu Beginn zu überlegen, wie und über welche Zwischenschritte man diese erfolgreich umsetzen könnte. Mit dem ultimativen Masterplan für 2007 sollte es eigentlich klappen. Was sieht eurer aus?

What drove me in 2006

Alexander — Sun, 31 Dec 2006 18:05:08 +0000

Hey god, here’s my wish list for Christmas

Alexander — Fri, 22 Dec 2006 18:23:52 +0000

Photo by Michael Sieben.

Elf Fragen

Alexander — Thu, 23 Nov 2006 13:39:46 +0000

Fragen, welche zwischen 8:15 und 13:30 wichtig schienen:

57.2 oder 58.9?
Bunkertore bei GPB oder VT?
Ohne oder mit WV GMT?
Über 2 oder 10 Jahre mit 3 oder 7%?
MWh/a oder t/a?
Präqualifikation ja / nein
3% als Subvarianten zu 3.5% oder umgekehrt?
Sollen wir die 2 Millionen drauf tun?
Rahmenkredit beantragen oder Kreditrahmen sprengen?
Wann lösen wir mit einer Unterschrift die 150 Millionen aus?
Wurst und Brot oder Fünfgänger?

Auch der 23. November brachte listenweise Aufschlussreiches. Was für ein spannendes Leben!

Dream On

Steph — Thu, 23 Nov 2006 12:53:17 +0000

Some things that I remember from my dreams this/last week

significant other & I were small pudgy children and had to have our faces transplanted (=swapped). After the operation we didnt look massively different except for faint scars right across our foreheads, and my eyes were too small and blurry. it was horrible & i was glad to wake up
A good friend who’s in brazil & I haven’t seen for 3 years showed up at my studio, which was completely lit up like a maltese church with reddish faiy lights, and the desk she was sitting at had a little catholic shrine (made from tin foil) on it. I was dozing on the sofa and my friend casually mentioned how she also likes girls, when suddenly this weird Irish creep showed up from out of nowhere and tried to squeeze in next to me.
An evil dictator lived in a really raised birthmark (like a tower) on my thigh
I turned on a tap, to drain the system of razor blades. I caught all the water and razor blades in a big brown paper bag.
I had a corpse in my bathtub, his face was a pale grey and he had a sharp white nose. My task was to preserve him, but I was about to fail imbalming class because we were drunk on wine all the time.

SuperConsumer

Anonymous — Thu, 23 Nov 2006 10:12:23 +0000

things I have bought in the last 7 days

transport x 9

food:

1 packet of chewing gum

1 spanish omelette

3 cartons of fresh soup

1 houmous with roasted peppers

(everything else i ate, oats/cereal/bread/pasta/tomatoes/milk/cheese/yoghurt/capers/etc was already in the house or bought by someone else)

drink:

8 pints of beer

2 bottles of wine

1 can 7up

1 box of peppermint tea

(everything else I drank was either generously bought by someone else or stemmed from my extensive tea collection)

other stuff

gas money

2 x tobacco & rizlas

1 ledger & 50 inner sleeves

1 newspaper

1 book

1 bottle of Vitamin C

1 box of Cold&Flu sachets

1 packet hall’s originals (throat lozenges)

1 deodorant

2 boxes of aspirin

(everything else I used I already own)

Crétin des Alpes!!!??!!!

Alexander — Tue, 21 Nov 2006 20:59:43 +0000

Bachi-bouzouk des Carpates!!!
Bulldozer à réaction!!!
Ectoplasme à roulettes!!!!
Jet d’eau ambulant!!
Marchand de guano!????!!!
Mille millions de mille milliards de tonnerres de Brest!!!
Mussolini de carnaval!!??
Polygraphe!!!??!!
Tchouk-tchouk nougat!!!
Vivisectionniste!??!!!
Zouave interplanétaire!!!??!!!!!

Serpent! Déjà Novembre 21!???!!! Végétarien! Inca de carnaval!

Farmer’s wisdom

Alexander — Sat, 18 Nov 2006 16:21:45 +0000

Keep skunks and bankers and lawyers at a distance.
Meanness don't jes' happen overnight.
It don't take a very big person to carry a grudge.
When you wallow with pigs, expect to get dirty.
Most of the stuff people worry about ain't never gonna happen anyway.
Don't judge folks by their relatives.
Always drink upstream from the herd.
Good judgment comes from experience, and a lotta that comes from bad judgment.
Lettin' the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier than puttin' it back in.
If you get to thinkin' you're a person of some influence, try orderin' somebody else's dog around.
Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly. Leave the rest to God.

Wisdom number 18 in a November full of insights.

Things that affect me on public transport…

Spregel — Fri, 17 Nov 2006 15:57:04 +0000

seeing people bumping into closing tram doors…huahua
a very old man, very very drunk, being a great pain in the ass, saying “hey!, hey!” every two seconds, “where am i? hey! hey! in the 3? hey! hey! supposed to be in the 9! hey! hey!”
a couple, very much in love, holding and kissing their newborn…no not baby!…little naked doggy! pfui, pfui
sitting over the heater on a cold winter day, warming my ass
the tram driver reopening the door just for me
remembering that i forgot my purse at the moment the tram drives off
mister “hettet sie mir ächt nöd chli münz, bitte?” once a week at least
mister ukraine: he sings really, really badly and gets very very angry cause nobody throws any coins in his hat after his performance: “you stupid selfish person, i hate you, yes i hate you!”

Baked goods I have bribed people with (and can give you recipes for)

Steph — Wed, 15 Nov 2006 15:06:43 +0000

You could of course just bribe people with money, but home-baked sweets are so much gentler and generally considered less offensive. Your victims will curse you and blame you for their imminent weight gain but they won’t be able to resist… unless of course they’re vegans or suffer from wheat/nut/dairy allergies. Those are best bribed with money, hard drugs and/or alcohol.

1. Surprise Carrot Cake (the best of them all)

2. Peanut Butter Chocolate Cake

3. Devil’s Food Cake (ideally with pink frosting)

4. Ordinary Brownies (but perfect – gooey in the centre, shiny on top etc)

5. Lord Baltimore Cake

6. French Chocolate Pistachio Cake (with ganache frosting)

7. Swedish Choc-Oat Cookies

8. Delia Smith’s Amazing Fruitcake

9. Pies & Crumbles of various kinds

Drinking dead essence

Alexander — Tue, 14 Nov 2006 10:18:59 +0000

And again everything seemed to be so radically against our own believes, that part of our fragile but – over the years – carefully tended mental microcosm began to crumble while thumbing through those albums full of little torn photos that – wilfully or not, who can at this point tell? – screamed at us so we, knowing of course it was wrong, after instants already started backing off – as always, you say? Well, there have been good and there have been bad ghosts coming out of the box labelled squeamishness which we always carry around in our little suitcase (labelled ‘me me me me me’). And then, after a beer or two in the quiet black corners of our neighbourhood snooker club we started to calm down again. Easy come, easy go? Not really, no. But alcohol then was – and always will be – one possible cure for ‘god’s favourite flock of lost sheep’ as we liked to call ourselves in those hazy drunken guilt free moments. Drinking the dead essence in big gulps, every mouthful filling our souls with ever and ever more peace, bringing everything back to level; in a way it felt like a 24 hour le mans version of the famous last words of Lermontov spinnig round, echoing in our half emptied skulls – well that one is my favourite so far. And after hours and hours in that dark haven we lost the feel for everything, well most of all for ourselves and our relationship and what we said was ok to do and what not and, well, almost always ended up in other dark corners fucking like animals, licking and biting and sweating and sweating and ‘oh that salty odor’, and ‘oh god that was –again – just great but wrong, wrong, wrong!’ Why hate yourself like that, why? Why for this? For this little cosy trip into a hell of chestnut and honey? Well a hell after all… Waking up in his house he brings me back to life but no way I will ever again allow him to push me so far, to push us so far. I end up sketching a mental list of possible steps that will help me to finally finally get rid of my self-destructive love for this man but after a while I realise my sketch failed miserably and all that fills my mind is that sad sad music I hear so often when I am around him, and that picture of napoleon dancing and the hope that this never ends and that next time we end up doing the same but maybe in a, well, maybe finally for once in a, yes, very simple, a nice way, like – as silly a wish as this now seems to be – like a real night out together, like our second november of love, where we follow not just our own instincts and cravings for once, and even more not the ideas other people have of us. Maybe it could be our own very private version of the ‘will you play it again, please?’ Sadly enough it takes only moments for these pinky-pink wishes of post- ravishment to be read – by myself – as what they are. Romantic pinky-pink wishes. And express-way back to reality. Then he begins to put on some records, reggae, roots, reggae. ‘Ever since I was a youth, I have been looking for the truth’ – not unlike a prayer for us – and it fills this room and it seems in this moment so far away from russia and – what can I say? – in this moment this is all we need because the darkness that is us, that we pulled inside a long time ago but that others don’t seem to grasp – at least not to its full extent – it just stops. And in the end it will be her little swiss soul and all those invisible bands that tie her to this oh so tenderly neglected beauty spot on the cheek of globalised mother earth which takes her back to where the remaining few other lucky ones live their lifes trying not to pop out in people traffic, evading everything that might connect them to the rest of that golden youth that was once also theirs. Not always easy to just walk away from everything of course. It is not the ‘why us?’ that hurts but the conviction that sneaks in every now and then that she deserved what she got, the she, the only woman left of the half-dozen that once were sworn in – before and after her –, that she of all was destined to end up exactly where she was now. Well, after some time word of what was and even more of what might would be got round and other people started to ponder, ponder, ponder, to try to put together the puzzle, to put the finger on a big cardboard view of the world and figure out, where exactly it was and where it would be next – hell yeah, I guess it might get a bit more crowded, next year.

Well, it’s November 14, list 14 – if you can call this a list.

Geburt einer Liste

Alexander — Sat, 11 Nov 2006 11:37:00 +0000

Ein Thema wird bestimmt.
Probleme? Bewährte Hilfsmittel: einen heben, Langeweile, Verstopfung, brainstorming, gezielte Selbstverwirrung, mind-mapping, Schlafentzug, Unterforderung, Durchfall.
Ideen (oder ideologische Ziele oder seine persönliche Hemmschwelle oder die Grenzen des eigenen Wissens oder der Phantasie) geben die Bearbeitungsrichtung und -weite vor.
Mögliche Listenelemente werden angehäuft (Optimalfall: aufgetürmt).
Was will man aussagen? Mittels Zeigefingereinsatz und spitzen Formulierungen wird die Essenz heraus geschält.
Zwischenräume werden ausgeblendet oder betont. Eine Liste soll möglichst schwarz-weiss (modern: in your face) sein.
Eine nicht objektive Selektion führt zur Reduktion auf Listenlänge (wie lange soll die Liste sein?).
Wertung: Es wird subjektiv gewertet (zusätzlich zu [7.]; bewusst oder unbewusst) und zurecht gebogen. Was steht an erster Stelle? Was in der Mitte?
Die Grobliste steht. Jetzt ist eine Pause nötig. Optimalfall: drei Tage. Minimum: ein Kaffee.
Korrekturlesen. Kriterien: Originalität, Korrektheit, Zielerreichung (Ideologie, Kernaussage). Grundfrage: hot or not? Not: zurück zu 1.
Publikation auf sirruf[schnüüz]net/essence.

Dies ist der elfte Beitrag für den Nisten-Love-Ember. Nistet auch wieder mal!