My Monday's MLB Game is less than an hour away. The Nationals and Phillies are scheduled to start playing at 5:40 PM CDT. As I usually do, I'll follow the game's score and stats in real time via MLB's Gameday Service where we can also find links to the radio-call of the game provided by announcers of either team we choose.

And the adventure continues.

Fortitude lapses on the furnace of my chill like ripples cascading across an abandoned minefield. All it takes is one surprise snap, and suddenly it's Splash Mountain —arms all akimbo— in feat retracting clamber.

Void of spotlight shenanigans, I sink into the murky peace, and allow the temptation of hesitation to be clobbered by its own path of mutual resistance. Another step of tape-strung prep saving the splay.

It'll be okay. Speed is not for today.

Repetition quotes a diver-tranced “Again!” Pain is my friend. Ascend to the mend. Red lines may welt across this forwarded moment... Uhhhhmmm. ...but I'm fraught with survival, and an excess of laughing matter.

Written August 3, 2026. © 2026 AnOublietteofThought.

I managed ¾ of a mile this morning. It frustrates me to no end, but I'm reminding myself that all movement forward is still movement. I think learning compassion for myself has been one of the most challenging life lessons. It remains ongoing, and likely will continue to do so.

I was once involved with an organization whose motto is “adapt and overcome.” Who knew it'd become a very important mindset in my life. Of course, the definition of “overcome” has gone through its own metamorphosis. Kind of like me.

Chin up, Buttercup! Life may break your body, but your wit and spirit are unconquerable!

Fantastic documentary on Enki Bilal from Standart.

Finally got around to reading Ahmed Khaled Tawfik's 2008 novel UTOPIA (in its original Arabic), which is just fantastic and in 2026 eerily close to reality.

Started watching SILO which I am enjoying enough though I can't stand Rebecca Ferguson.

#radar

Most mornings when I'm walking to work I listen to music. The playlists I choose are generally like the music version of comfort food, or a favorite pair of comfortable shoes. It is something I enjoy for that twenty minutes or so on my way to work where generally there isn't any enjoyment. Or maybe I shouldn't say there isn't any enjoyment. I think from time to time my coworkers and I intoxicate and entertain each other with sarcasm about how stupid our f'n job is. Is fabricating joy by hurling insults toward a corporate employer behind their back better than no joy at all? I don't know. Probably.

Most days when I listen to music on the way there I usually end up with one of the songs stuck in my head. One morning I had a rather strange and unexpected thing happen. When I got to the edge of the parking lot at work I decided to sit for a moment on the picnic table and finish the song that was playing, which happened to be Empty by Metric.

I removed my phone from my pocket before sitting down. Right after I sat down I unlocked it with my fingertip so I could check and see how much of the song was remaining. Just as the screen illuminated the lyric in the song, “ask the line on your face what the line on your hand meant” played. Not only did I hear it as it was playing, but the lyrics were also showing up below the little picture of the album cover. I also read the words while hearing them.

I had heard the song likely a hundred or more times over the years but I hadn't heard it in awhile. All day at work I could not stop thinking about that one lyric. It was not something that ever stood out to me on previous listens, and I found myself wondering if it even would have stood out this time if I hadn't sat down just then and read the words on my phone while they were being sung.

The lyric seemed to have an implication that maybe (most likely) it would not have had to me earlier in life. Sort of like regret, or like I had missed something fundamental along the way. At the same time though I felt a kind of freedom in knowing there is fuck all I can do about any of it now. The past can haunt me all it wants, but I can't change it. I can only live with the consequences of my bad decisions and enjoy the rewards of the good ones. Try to learn from all of it, and hopefully use what I have learned to make better decisions in the present.

• ✒️ I’ve been using a Bullet Journal for 2 months now. I’m starting to get a feel for what works for me, and I realized I don’t miss most of the digital tools I was using before. I still use a digital calendar, email and Standard Notes, but I’ve been very satisfied having my to-dos in analog form.
• 📘 I started reading the last book of The Expanse series, “Leviathan Falls” by James S.A. Corey. I love to have these beloved series to get back to, and I might be unconsciously taking longer to read it because I don’t want it to end?! 🫣
• 📕 Another series I’m almost done is The Vorkosigan Saga by Lois McMaster Bujold. I finished “Captain Vorpatril's Alliance” and I can’t wait to go to the next book.
• 🥳 I am now closer to being 50 years old than 45 years old, somewhere in between. And I feel great about it, no regrets.
• 🔎 I started doing the weekly Word Search and Sudoku that comes in a free weekly flyer with local store sales in my neighbourhood. It’s been ages since I’ve done any of these, and I am enjoying the experience. I love that the section on the flyer is called “Your Moment of Zen”. Anyway, I rediscovered Sudoku, and I heard about this thing called Murdoku that I now want to explore!
• 🎬 I went to see “The Odyssey” by Christopher Nolan in a regular IMAX cinema. I haven’t been to the movies since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, so that was interesting. The movie is great; it was more gory and bloody than I was expecting, but I enjoyed the narrative choices and the excellent sound design.
• 🤘 I discovered a new metal band! And by new, I mean really new: they have released only 2 albums so far. The band is called Castle Rat, led by a woman, with a sound clearly inspired by early doom metal and Black Sabbath. Also, they use this over-the-top medieval fantasy 80’s aesthetic that is retro and quirky and amazing.
• 📝 I decided to join the Blaugust Festival of Blogging !! My first post is here.
• 📺 I’ve been enjoying the series Connections by James Burke on Curiosity Stream.

Post 02 of #Blaugust #weeknotes

https://write.as/hypocritepoet/burkowski-on-writers/edit/meta

and if you have the ability to love love yourself first

I love reading Burkowski after a couple of drinks. He's dirty and gross and bold in a way that few writers are without being unreadable. Even so, he is not for the faint of heart. Simple, but sometimes crude.

This poem certainly needed the first 3rd chopped, but I like the rest of it:

and if you have the ability to love love yourself first

but always be aware of the possibility of total defeat whether the reason for that defeat seems right or wrong -

an early taste of death is not necessarily a bad thing.

stay out of churches and bars and museums, and like the spider be patient - time is everybody's cross, plus exile defeat treachery

all that dross.

stay with the beer.

beer is continuous blood.

a continuous lover.

get a large typewriter and as the footsteps go up and down outside your window

hit that thing hit it hard

make it a heavyweight fight

make it the bull when he first charges in

and remember the old dogs who fought so well: Hemingway, Celine, Dostoevsky, Hamsun.

If you think they didn't go crazy in tiny rooms just like you're doing now

without women without food without hope

then you're not ready.

drink more beer. there's time. and if there's not that's all right too.

---

#poetry

The Things We Say Without Words

Some playlists are collections of songs. Others are letters.

The ones that stick are never about the music. They become snapshots of a moment, a feeling, a version of ourselves that existed when those songs found us. Sometimes a person shares a song because they love the melody. Sometimes they share it because, somehow, the song says something they cannot quite put into words.

Music defines reality, and because of that, it sticks.

At first listen, it is full of energy, charm, and a little bit of mischief. There is playfulness there — the kind of confidence that comes from feeling seen. But as the songs unfold, another story begins to appear.

There is distance. There is hope. There is vulnerability. There is the strange mixture of joy and ache that comes when something matters deeply.

That is the remarkable thing about music: it can hold two truths at once. A song can make you smile and break your heart in the same three minutes. It can celebrate a feeling while quietly acknowledging that feelings are complicated.

Some of the songs in this collection feel like questions. Some feel like answers. Some feel like someone reaching across a space and saying, “Do you understand?”

And sometimes understanding is the greatest gift we can give.

Not every message needs a reply. Not every song needs an explanation. Sometimes the most meaningful response is simply knowing that the other person heard it.

Music has always been a language for the things we struggle to say. The right songs find their way to the right person at the right moment, and years later, they can still carry the weight of that moment.

Some melodies fade.

Some messages remain.

---

Track name	Artist name	Album	Playlist name
(She's) Sexy + 17	Stray Cats	Rant N' Rave With The Stray Cats	Nickelgator
A Girl in Trouble	Romeo Void	Warm, In Your Coat	Nickelgator
West End Girls – 2018	Pet Shop Boys	Please: Further Listening 1984 – 1986 (2018 )	Nickelgator
Europa & the Pirate Twins	Thomas Dolby	The Golden Age of Wireless	Nickelgator
Mirror Man	The Human League	Mirror Man	Nickelgator
Mint Car	The Cure	Wild Mood Swings	Nickelgator
Dumb Waiters	The Psychedelic Furs	Talk Talk Talk	Nickelgator
Johnson's Aeroplane	INXS	The Swing	Nickelgator
Red Hill Mining Town	U2	The Joshua Tree (Super Deluxe)	Nickelgator
Message To My Girl	Split Enz	Conflicting Emotions	Nickelgator
Metropolis	The Church	Gold Afternoon Fix	Nickelgator
Beat up Guitar	The Hooters	45 Alive – Keswick Live in Concert	Nickelgator
Everybody Wants You	Billy Squier	Emotions In Motion	Nickelgator
Another Nail In My Heart	Squeeze	Singles – 45's And Under	Nickelgator

---

The messages I hear in these songs:

(She's) Sexy + 17 — Stray Cats The spark, the smile, the playful beginning — the feeling of being caught up in someone’s energy and wanting to stay in that moment a little longer.

A Girl in Trouble — Romeo Void The recognition that someone can be fascinating, complicated, and impossible to simply walk away from.

West End Girls — Pet Shop Boys The feeling of two people existing in different worlds, yet somehow finding a connection across the distance.

Europa & the Pirate Twins — Thomas Dolby A reminder of imagination, adventure, and the strange little universe two people can create through shared memories.

Mirror Man — The Human League The masks we wear, the things we reveal, and the longing to be truly seen beneath the surface.

Mint Car — The Cure Pure joy — the rush of happiness that comes when someone makes the ordinary feel extraordinary.

Dumb Waiters — The Psychedelic Furs The quiet frustrations and unsaid words that live underneath relationships and human connection.

Johnson's Aeroplane — INXS The feeling of being carried away by something exciting, unpredictable, and bigger than yourself.

Red Hill Mining Town — U2 The weight of reality — knowing that love and life can be complicated, and that some things are worth carrying even when they hurt.

Message To My Girl — Split Enz The heart trying to say something important when ordinary words just aren’t enough.

Metropolis — The Church The feeling of finding a hidden world inside another person — a place only the two of you recognize.

Beat up Guitar — The Hooters The imperfect beauty of memories, worn edges, and the things that remain meaningful because they are real.

Everybody Wants You — Billy Squier The intensity of attraction — the magnetic pull of wanting someone and feeling wanted in return.

Another Nail In My Heart — Squeeze The bittersweet ending — not regret for feeling something real, but the ache of knowing that some connections leave a mark.

---

#music

make the ordinary come to life and the extraordinary

you will get

for free!

I watched a bee struggle to drink all the nectar she could from the most beautiful bloom. The way the blossom bounced in the morning light was otherworldly. A brilliant glowing buttercup against a verdant wall of green.

The forgotten hose that left a puddle in the yard became a playground for a cardinal and two pigeons while a rosy female robin kept her distance, waiting for her turn at bath.

The glory of the day started with splashes of crimson and periwinkle just before dawn, right after the deep purple of night.

All this, and the day has hardly begun!

JOURNAL 3 août 2026

La nuit est chaude. Pas de ciel Pas d'étoiles Nuit noire tout autour On s'est assise pour regarder sur la mer. Au loin les lumières clignotantes. Je suppose que c’est la distance et le mouvement des bateaux qui produisent cette impression. Petites lucioles aux parcours mystérieux.

On aime être comme ça, côte à côte, en silence, à contempler le monde. C'est presque de la méditation On se sent si petites L'océan produit une idée précise de l'immensité de l'univers et forcément nous rappelle la fragilité et la brièveté de nos vies.

Alors on se donne la main pour se rassurer en silence

⚓️ Poesie.

Gerade noch saßen sie da,

die Segler,

in offenen Camper vor ihren Wäscheleinen,

an denen die Taucheranzüge im Wind flatterten.

Aus aller Herren Länder leuchteten die Flaggen

international in den kleinen Küstenort.

Gerade noch zogen sie morgens ihre Boote

über den Sand ins Meer und doch sind sie jetzt

wieder fort, setzen an anderer Stelle ihre Segel,

fortgeweht wie die gelben Blätter, die über die Promenade

wehen.

Die Einheimischen gehen wieder ihrem Alltag nach,

schwimmen im Morgenlicht,

treffen sich auf der Promenade zum Boule,

oder auf dem Markt.

Es ist, als hätte es die Travemünder Woche nie gegeben.

🌊 Strandgut.

Wenn die Segler sich auf dem Meer tummeln oder die großen Pötte am Horizont sichtbar werden, näher kommen und sich am kleinen Leuchtturm vorbeischieben, geht mir das Herz auf. Während ich über die Promenade radle, entsteht in mir das Gefühl, auf dem Strand zu leben. Ich fühle das Vibrieren der Menschen, die ihre Köpfe in die Sonne halten, die eine Sommernacht durchtanzen, die ihre Subs ins Meer schieben … Die Melodie von Gershwins “Summertime” erklingt in meinem Kopf, und gleich setze ich mich ans Klavier und klimpere sie nach.

Gleichzeitig erinnere ich mich an frühere Strandaufenthalte in anderen Teilen der Welt. An Zelturlaube in Frankreich, an eine kleine Familienpension in Italien, an Sportsbars auf Hawaii und es entsteht ein Gefühl der Verbundenheit mit meinem früheren Dasein und den Küsten untereinander. Weltumfassend.

📖 Gelesen. Gesehen. Gehört.

#gelesen

Haben oder Sein – Die seelischen Grundlagen einer neuen Gesellschaft von Erich Fromm – Das Buch ist mir in einem Büchertausch-Regal in die Hände gefallen und hat mich von den ersten Seiten an, in den Bann gezogen, weil die Auseinandersetzung mit der Frage nichts an Aktualität verloren hat. Im Gegenteil!

#gesehen

Eine feine Überraschung war der Film “The Map that leads to you” (Liebe findet uns). Der Film erzählt die Geschichte von Heather, die mit Freundinnen durch Europa reist, bevor ihr perfekt geplantes Leben beginnen soll. Der Film war für mich persönlich nicht nur ein wundervoller Flashback an vielfältige Europareisen kreuz und quer mit dem Zug, sondern auch die Entdeckung des Schriftstellers J.P. Monninger, der den Roman geschrieben hat und damit auf wundervolle Weise Hemingways Roman “Fiesta” verarbeitet. Das Leben ist ein Fest! Die stilvolle Machart des Films ist dem schwedischen Regisseur Lasse Hallström zu verdanken.

#gehört

Copenhagen Cinnamon von Stefanie Neeb entführt die Zuhörenden in die herbstlichen Viertel der dänischen Hauptstadt bis hin zum Küstenort Rungsted, wo die Schriftstellerin Karen Blixen gelebt hat. Zwischen Kaffee und Zimtschnecken knistert es zwischen den Hauptfiguren Mads und Jonna vor der Kulisse eines gemütlichen Coffee Shops.

☕️ Zum Schluss.

… eines meiner Lieblingszitate in “Haben oder Sein”:

“Es gibt kein Sein, das nicht gleichzeitig ein Werden und sich verändern ist. Lebende Strukturen können nur sein, indem sie werden, können nur existieren, indem sie sich verändern. Wachstum und Veränderung sind inhärente Eigenschaften des Lernprozesses.”

Starting with a tension and staying with it long enough for something previously invisible to become visible has increasingly become the centre of my writing practice.

The essay linked below is an example of that approach. It begins with work that shaped my belief in the possibilities of dialogue, participation and persuasion, then follows a line of enquiry towards a conclusion I had resisted for many years.

Rather than resolving the tension, the piece attempts to remain with it long enough for its underlying structure to reveal itself.

Published in The Marshall Review: rvw.ie Read the essay

David Marshall Sna Sceirí

 

When argument has nothing to stand on

Some years back I was awarded a DPhil for work I had published two decades earlier, work that was judged to make an original contribution to knowledge. The first revealed a structure for presenting a defence of nurses accused of wrongdoing. It explored how to advance an argument inside a recognised hierarchy with actors who largely behaved with integrity. The second revealed a structure for engaging public sector workers in discussion. It examined how people could draw on their own experience and develop their opinions about a major shift in government policy that would affect both their work and their representation.

In both pieces of work the environments carried a particular character. A kind of liberal consensus that was so familiar at the time that we barely noticed it. In the tribunal cases the hierarchy itself provided the frame. Everyone in the room recognised the authority of the structure. Everyone understood the rules and the evidential standards. Everyone behaved broadly with enough integrity for argument to matter. It was possible to advance a defence because the structure could hold the weight of disagreement. Power was present of course. It always is. But it was channelled and contained. Given form by the procedures that governed the room. Argument belonged there because the environment itself supported the activity of argument.

The second situation shared the same assumptions though expressed differently. These were not formal hearings but part of a national conversation involving more than 650,000 public sector workers attempting to make sense of a significant policy shift. There was no hierarchy and no tribunal procedure. There was however mutual recognition. Despite the scale of the undertaking people listened because they recognised their own concerns in those of others. They were willing to explore and revise their views because the structure we built together made that possible. Their opinions shifted not because one person persuaded them but because they persuaded each other. Consensus emerged because the conditions allowed it. Shared experience. Trust in the process. A sense that everyone was participating in good faith.

Power was present here too but moderated by familiarity and reciprocity. Both environments rested on the same quiet assumptions. That argument is meaningful. That persuasion is possible. That norms are broadly shared. That the structures we inhabit can contain the power within them. These were not abstract ideals. They were the material conditions that made argument possible. They shaped the liberal imagination of the time and they shaped my own understanding of how people reason together. They convinced me that though we may differ in our wants needs and desires there is often a path to resolution if we place in our way the machinery through which disagreement can be managed. The participation of everyone involved is not incidental to that process. It is one of its essential ingredients.

At the same time as those two pieces of work and for some years afterwards I was engaged in a programme I titled Tackling Racism. That work took me into closed rooms where regard for others was not shared in the way it had been in tribunals or workplace discussions. The assumptions that had quietly underpinned those earlier environments were simply absent. The expectation that people would listen. The expectation that they would recognise each other. The expectation that they would accept the legitimacy of the process itself. In those rooms the role of some participants emerged very quickly. A desire to bully. To intimidate. To dominate.

These were not the anti-racism workshops familiar in workplaces and trade union halls where we were often dealing with prejudice born of distance or unfamiliarity. Misunderstandings that could sometimes be worked through. These meetings were different. For some participants they became opportunities for larger scale bullying and repression. The same behaviours that had already shown themselves in abuse directed at individuals on the shop floor in corridors in car parks and on the street. The structure could not contain it.

Sometimes a realisation arrives in an instant. Sometimes it comes slowly as if the mind is adjusting itself grain by grain. This one arrived neither way. It was prolonged. And it was punishing. I denied it. I fought it. I kept returning to the belief that there had to be a way. That if I could only find the right structure the right approach the right moment then the same regard for others that had shaped my earlier work would re-emerge. I had seen people change their minds. I had seen consensus form. I had seen argument work. Surely it could work here too.

But the more I failed the more I felt the realisation rising. Not as an idea but as a physical sensation. Something welling up from the pit of my stomach. The assumptions I had carried from those earlier environments simply did not apply. The quiet respect for others. The willingness to listen. The expectation of integrity. The belief that everyone in the room was engaged in the same activity. None of these could be assumed.

What confronted me was not a breakdown in argument. It was the absence of the conditions that make argument possible.

I had spent years believing that good structures could enable disagreement to become something productive. That if people could be brought into the same space then understanding could emerge. That persuasion remained possible.

What I discovered was the limit of that belief. Argument is not a universal tool. It depends upon conditions that cannot be assumed. It depends upon structures capable of holding power. It depends upon shared norms however imperfect. It depends upon a willingness to recognise others not merely as opponents but as participants in a common endeavour. Remove those conditions and argument does not fail.

It ceases to exist.

David Marshall Sna Sceirí

Humboldt Forum: 18. Juli

Gestern haben wir mit Nandita bis zwei Uhr nachts geredet. Als heute Morgen der Wecker um sieben Uhr klingelte, fühlte ich mich, als hätte ich den Kopf voller Sand. Ich bin mir allerdings nicht sicher, ob dieses Bild auf Deutsch überhaupt etwas bedeutet. Auf Litauisch beschreiben wir diesen Zustand – wenn der Kopf einfach nicht richtig funktioniert – mit zwei Redewendungen. Entweder sagen wir, dass jemand „wie mit einem Sack geschlagen“ aussieht, oder eben, dass er „einen Kopf voller Sand“ hat. Darüber muss ich unbedingt noch mit meinen deutschen Freunden diskutieren. Übrigens beziehen sich beide Redewendungen eigentlich auf den Zustand nach einer durchfeierten Nacht mit Alkohol.

Nandita trinkt allerdings überhaupt keinen Alkohol. Sie trinkt nicht einmal Kaffee oder Tee – nur Wasser. Ich dagegen trinke je nach Stimmung eigentlich alles, meistens allerdings in Gesellschaft von Freunden, die ebenfalls Alkohol trinken. Mit Nandita braucht man jedoch überhaupt keinen Alkohol. Nach einem Abend mit ihr fühlt man sich auch ganz ohne das, als hätte man viel zu viel getrunken!

Zunächst noch ein paar Worte über unsere Hunde. Früher hatte Nandita in Indien große Angst vor Hunden. Deshalb fühlt sie sich selbst mit unseren Hunden noch etwas unwohl, obwohl sie sich eigentlich überhaupt nicht für sie interessieren. Wie ich schon erzählt habe, reagiert Pipiras allerdings sehr empfindlich auf neue Menschen und ungewöhnliche Situationen. Als Nandita ankam und laut rufend auf mich zugelaufen kam, fing Pipiras sofort laut an zu bellen. Dadurch bekam Nandita noch mehr Angst und versuchte förmlich, auf mich hinaufzuklettern. Pipiras wiederum war überzeugt, dass sie mich angreifen wollte, und bellte noch lauter. Am Ende war die ganze Rezeption voller Lärm. Eigentlich, würde ich sagen, ist Nandita die menschliche Version von Pipiras. Sie hat ebenfalls eine unglaublich laute Stimme. Wenn die beiden gleichzeitig aus Angst ihre Sirenen einschalten, könnte man wirklich einen Großalarm auslösen. Zum Glück gelang es mir, beide Sirenen wieder auszuschalten, und wir konnten endlich spazieren gehen.

Mindaugas fühlte sich heute leider nicht besonders gut. Deshalb gingen Nandita und ich allein mit den Hunden zur Morgenrunde. Endlich stellte Nandita fest, dass unsere Hunde sich überhaupt nicht für sie interessieren – solange sie nicht schreit. Deshalb konnten unsere Nachbarn am Samstagmorgen endlich wieder etwas ruhiger schlafen. Unser Plan für heute war, ein bisschen Arbeit mit ein bisschen Vergnügen zu verbinden.

Wir gingen noch einmal zur Museumsinsel. Nach dem Frühstück wollte ich dort eine weitere Wegbeschreibung testen. Ich wusste schon vorher, dass das wieder viel Zeit kosten würde. Deshalb beschlossen wir, den Tag zunächst ganz entspannt mit einem Frühstück zu beginnen. Dabei entdeckten wir ein wirklich schönes Café in der Nähe des Berliner Doms. Leider war es für Mindaugas nicht besonders gut zugänglich, weil es sich halb im Keller befand. Aber wenn er zu Hause geblieben ist, konnte ich auch ein bisschen die unzugängliche Orte kennenlernen. Die Panini und die Waffeln waren wirklich lecker – und dazu noch überraschend günstig.

Dieses Mal beschäftigte ich mich mit der Wegbeschreibung zum Humboldt Forum. Alle Einzelheiten werde ich diesmal nicht beschreiben, trotzdem möchte ich ein paar Beobachtungen zusammenfassen:

1. Dieses Mal musste ich einen anderen Ausgang aus dem U-Bahnhof finden. Da ich das System der Treppen inzwischen schon viel besser kannte, klappte das erstaunlich gut. Die Wegbeschreibung führte mich zum Treppenaufgang. Allerdings wurde nicht erwähnt, dass sich die normale Treppe zwischen zwei Rolltreppen befindet. Ich vermute, dass das für die Berliner ohnehin selbstverständlich ist – nur ich musste erst einmal lange danach suchen.

2. Vor dem zweiten Treppenaufgang sollte ich zweimal rechts entlang gehen und dabei eine Wand auf meiner rechten Seite haben. Den Treppenaufgang fand ich allerdings eher nach einer Rechtskurve. Ist das falsch? Hoffentlich nicht. Da ich die ganze Zeit die Wand auf meiner rechten Seite hatte, war ich ziemlich überzeugt, auf dem richtigen Weg zu sein, und fand den Fußgängerweg auch recht schnell.

3. Anschließend musste ich im Innenhof wieder ein Leitsystem finden. Aber auf welcher Seite? Und wohin sollte mich dieses Leitsystem überhaupt führen? Das wurde leider nicht erklärt. Also ging ich einfach „bis zum Leitsystem“, wie es in der Beschreibung stand, und folgte anschließend der metallenen Ablaufrinne bis zum Humboldt Forum.

4. Nandita filmte mich diesmal von außen. Eigentlich verlief fast alles richtig. Nur die Glastür am Ende fand ich nicht. Nandita erklärte mir schließlich, dass ich mich inzwischen auf der anderen Seite des Gebäudes befand. Wir überprüften die Beschreibung noch einmal gemeinsam. Da wir das System selbst noch nicht ganz verstanden hatten, beschlossen wir schließlich, die Suche zu beenden und stattdessen einfach über die Museumsinsel zu spazieren.

Außerdem wussten wir bereits, dass das Humboldt Forum an diesem Tag ein Berliner Festival veranstaltete und wir am Abend zu einem Konzert willkommen sein würden. Darüber freuten wir uns sehr – wir wollten den Abend einfach mit Musik, Tanzen und guter Stimmung genießen. Nach unserem Spaziergang und ein paar Fotos vor Ort waren wir ziemlich müde. Deshalb legten wir uns auf eine der erstaunlich bequemen Bänke auf der Museumsinsel. Dort kann man sich wirklich wunderbar ausruhen. Gleichzeitig konnten wir noch ein bisschen die Sonne genießen.

Was den Spaziergang mit Nandita außerdem besonders macht: Sie kommt unglaublich leicht mit Menschen ins Gespräch. Die ganze Zeit bat sie irgendwelche Passanten, Fotos von uns zu machen, und stellte mich anschließend vor den verschiedensten Gebäuden der Museumsinsel auf. Während unserer kleinen Pause erzählte sie mir von den Fotos und freute sich darüber, dass wir so nette und talentierte Fotografen gefunden hatten. Dabei wurde mir auch bewusst, dass ich mich im Zentrum von Vilnius wahrscheinlich gar nicht so entspannt erholen könnte. Dort kennen mich einfach zu viele Menschen, und deshalb habe ich oft das Gefühl, mich etwas „ordentlicher“ verhalten zu müssen. Hier in Berlin dagegen genieße ich es, einfach auf einer Bank zu liegen und mich zu entspannen. Nandita brachte uns außerdem Pommes und Kaffee, und unsere kleine Sommerpause wurde dadurch noch gemütlicher und lustiger. Die Sonne wechselte sich übrigens ständig mit einem angenehm kühlen Wind ab. Manchmal war uns richtig warm, im nächsten Moment wieder kühl. Ich vermutete allerdings mit Sorge, dass das genau die Art von Wetter ist, bei der man sich besonders leicht einen Sonnenbrand holt.

Zur Mittagspause kehrten wir ins Hotel zurück. Dort wollten wir uns noch etwas ausruhen, Mindaugas etwas zu essen bringen und außerdem einen kleinen Auftrag für die Universität erledigen. Ich bin Studierendenvertreterin und muss deshalb regelmäßig kleine Tests zu universitären Themen absolvieren. Darin geht es zum Beispiel um Fragen wie: Wie viele Vertreterinnen und Vertreter gibt es im Studierendenparlament? An wen kann ich mich bei Problemen im Studium wenden? Wo finde ich welche Informationen? Eigentlich sind diese Tests gar nicht so einfach, weil man sich an viele offizielle Einzelheiten erinnern muss. Die meisten Informationen hatte ich allerdings schon früher gesammelt. Deshalb konnte ich den Test innerhalb einer knappen Stunde abschließen und meine Qualifikation als Studierendenvertreterin wieder verlängern.

Am Abend erwartete uns schließlich ein wunderschönes Konzert. Es traten mehrere Bands aus Korea auf. Die Sängerinnen waren unglaublich sympathisch und verstanden es hervorragend, mit dem Publikum zu kommunizieren. Ich kannte koreanische Musik bisher kaum. Sie klang für mich zunächst etwas fremd, wurde aber gleichzeitig auf eine sehr attraktive Weise präsentiert. Besonders die Art zu singen fand ich faszinierend. Gemeinsam mit dem unglaublich freundlichen Berliner Publikum verbrachten wir einen wunderschönen Abend. Später gingen wir noch ein Eis essen und anschließend bis zum Alexanderplatz spazieren. Draußen waren unglaublich viele Menschen unterwegs. Ähnlich wie tagsüber waren alle mit den unterschiedlichsten Dingen beschäftigt – so verschieden und doch oft irgendwie einsam. Der Alexanderplatz wirkte auf mich wie ein gemeinsamer Treffpunkt all dieser Unterschiede. Und genau deshalb fühlte es sich schön an, selbst ein kleiner Teil dieser Vielfalt zu sein. Dieses Gefühl erlebe ich immer wieder in großen Städten. Ich habe den Eindruck, dass ihre Bewegung, ihre Geräusche und ihre Atmosphäre mir helfen, den Mangel an visuellen Informationen irgendwie auszugleichen. In der Natur empfinde ich das anders. Dort entdecke ich wiederum andere wunderbare Dinge. Aber die Stadt ist für mich wie ein ganz besonderer Teil meines Inneren.

So kamen wir schließlich mit sommerlichen, städtischen, freundlichen und fröhlichen Eindrücken nach Hause zurück.

epigraph

Some days... I lose my mind.

I lost it last night. Hours went by and I could not remember if it was was real or fabrication. My compass, that guided me for so many years, when I check it now, it does not spin, but it bounces wildly from true north to other places on the map.

How does a boy navigate when his direction is inverted? I'm looking for my north star. I'm looking.

Maybe it isn't dark enough yet?

---

Today, just to day, let's not take life quite so seriously?

Deal?

Okay!

---

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It's never a bad time for a cheese party!

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Sometimes people complain about being poor. I have. Then I notice the peanut butter section at the grocery store and realize there are no poor people in this country. We are all here just various levels of wealthy.

Like nobles in Versailles.

Only with less head-loping.

Hopefully.

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Client Work!

11:50a

Big posting to client's client tomorrow.

Funny how advertising is. I'm a guy in my bedroom, ahem, my STUDIO, making amazing art... well 'amazing' is probably a bit hyperbolic... making stuff, that's better. Anyway, I'm selling my services to a production studio. They sell that to an ad agency, they sell that product to the end client.

So, I'm the fourth guy down the chain on this. That's a LOT of approvals to get it out the door and green-checked to go into the world.

REGARDLESS! this three weeks of work ships final on Friday, meaning I'll be back to making sketchbooks, writing about Europe and staring into space. That's what romantic poet essayists, do, you know? Star into space. Though that's usually filled with boy scout stuff like helping little old ladies across the street and fetching groceries. :–)

I may not be a great man, but I'm trying to be a good one at least.

IF it all goes well, think I'll take a few days and go camping next week. My wife get's back from PSS (school) next week and she'll be ready for a break.

Okay! Better get this retouching done... oh, wait, no! It's LUNCHTIME!

:–)

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12:30P

Shin-Raising a Glass

Have I ever told you about my buddy, Shin?

This guy.

He's absolutely amazeballs.

I love him to death.

He lives half a world away. We met on a volunteer project fifteen years ago, and if you'd asked me then which of those people I'd still be talking to years later—sharing my darkest fears, biggest failures, and the places where I still come up short—I never would have guessed it would be him.

But here we are.

It turns out we're wired in remarkably similar ways. We have many of the same weaknesses. Our wives have many of the same strengths and struggles. In a strange way, talking to Shin is a bit like talking to myself—but with the enormous advantage of hearing my own thinking from someone who isn't trapped inside my own head.

He's solved problems I'm still wrestling with and I've helped him through some that I've already fought.

There's this beautiful exchange of ideas, encouragement, correction, and goodness that I've only experienced with a few people in my lifetime.

The Bible speaks of friends who are “born for times of distress.”

It's a verse that I have long loved. I think Shin and I have become that for one another.

Ninety minutes on the phone with him leaves me feeling... human again.

Not perfect.

Not finished.

Just... capable.

Capable of being kinder than I was yesterday.

More patient, more thoughtful, more willing to put away selfishness and choose the path of building others up instead of making mself feel comfortabel.

Lately I've been thinking a lot about self-control.

Growing up in a house of violence, anger wasn't something you mastered. It was something people flexed. Tempers weren't controlled; they were wielded.

It took decades to break that horse.

Or at least to get it mostly broken.

I thought that was the battle.

Then I discovered there's another horse entirely.

A quieter one... and WAY more powerful, more intense.

Inward storms that flood worlds not by exploding outward but causing us to turn on our better judgment and chase the unattainable.

Apparently becoming an adult isn't about taming one beast and getting the trophy. It's discovering there's always another challenge hiding behind a tree.

Being human is astonishing.

We have this incredible capacity for love, generosity, courage, sacrifice, forgiveness, friendship. Entire libraries have been written trying to explain what makes people choose goodness over selfishness.

And somehow, one of the greatest gifts in that journey is another person who simply refuses to let you settle.

Someone who reminds you—sometimes without even trying—that you can be better than you were yesterday.

That's what Shin has become for me.

A reminder.

An encouragement.

A friend.

Who makes me want to become the kind of man others can trust. The kind who brings peace instead of turmoil. Hope instead of cynicism. Contentment instead of complaint.

None of us become that person alone.

So tonight, I'm raising my glass to fifteen years of friendship.

To honest conversations.

To brothers who tell the truth.

And to you, Shin.

Thank you, my friend.

---

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The harder I adventure, the more I see there is to adventure.

December 2025

This is a collection of semi-readable notes from my first days in Portugal. Once settled, we moved from our hotel to stay with friends just south of Porto in Granja, Portugal. On one hand it's removed from the classically historic part of the city. On the other, We're living with locals, like a local. NO one speaks more english than 'yes' or 'no' or 'no English'!

So I'm buying bread and reading Portuguese poorly from my translation app.

They also live 4 blocks from the ocean. Not bad all things considered.

We have been on the Iberian peninsula for 6 days at this point. Jet lag is slowly fading, but just as I adapt to the new circadian rhythm, client work materializes and I've suddenly got to function living on WET while working on PST.

Wednesday Dec 17, 2025

I clawed from bed early and dashed into the winter light for a fifteen-minute walk. Then dashed into the city for a meeting with friends to organize for a public preaching. We are all volunteer Bible teachers and I was excited to engage in a new country.

After our meeting to organize at 10am, I left the apartment and went next door to buy an orange from one of the small shops that are ubiquitous here. I only had a twenty-euro bill, but the total was something like twenty cents. The shopkeeper just waved his hand and said, “You take.”

Yayyyy! Free orange.

Our ministry was refreshing and different. None of us are natives, so our 'territory' for preaching is english-speakers. Ex-pats, Africans and Indians. All foreigners. You can do a little racial profiling based on skin color, and generally, you'll find they are English speakers.

However, it isn't just thump them with a Bible and they love you. It is very important to just have a conversation. English speakers who are foreigners, LOVE to meet other foreign english-speakers. We're all in the same boat, essentially: We are accepted, even liked, but truth be told, the natives would rather we buy a magnet and then go back home.

And so, the common ground is just, 'hey, you're safe with me'. Not that Portuguese people aren't wonderful. They are. But, the world is a challenging place, and anything different creates friction.

So if we find a potential english speaker, we connect based solely on that point. As the conversation progresses, we look for ways to shift it to spiritual topics. Not hard, but not everyone is interested. So, sometimes you just talk about where you are from, the weather and what they think of the place, and you move on.

It's a very slow, meticulous work.

We have several enjoyable conversations and I meet a Catholic who is a Bible scholar and specializes in the first 300 years of the Catholic church. In the US, I RARELY meet scholars of Religion, so the conversation is fascinating.

He explains that his sect rejects Paul's letters of 1,2,3 John and Revelation based on the perception that they are too negative to be part of the Bible Canon.

I counter with the very positive aspects of the writings (the hope of the future) and he admits the appeal.

In the end we part amicably.

I meet several Muslims and others who are just happy I am happy to be in Portugal.

A successful morning. Preaching isn't only about helping others, it's about practicing and sharpening our following of Jesus example.

We stop for coffee and to get warm. Our friends don't like the coffee spot and my wife doesn't want to walk down to the water front. So, we hop in the car and dash home for a light lunch of vegetarian nachos.

Now, nothing against my friends or vegetarians in general: but nachos without meat: :–( They aren't terrible, but just call them nachos. The vegetarian moniker takes something away. Or maybe it was the lintels he added for protein.

Left me wanting a steak. A big fat salmon steak. Mmmmmm.

After lunch, it was time to explore and I made my way down to to the beach to knock on the door of the universe.

Walking on the beach, I learned my free orange wasn’t the win I thought it was. Peeling it, I noticed it had no smell, seeing it i realized it was dry and tasteless. I will learn later that you have to pick the oranges in season. can tell by the attached leaves.

C’est la vie.

So the birds got a free orange.

Isn’t every orange a bird eats a free orange?

I’ve never seen a sparrow with a debit card or a raven discussing exchange rates.

The early afternoon was filled with wandering and wondering. When the beach's winter novelty wore thing, I jumped a train back into Porto so I could drift through the cobblestone alleys and streets and think about the ancient structures in this city. What humble hands hewed that stone, and later stacked it against the centuries?

Did those hand-men think about how they would bear children, who would bear children, who would bear children—until finally, one day, some moon-faced white man would wonder about them even though they were long dead? How surprised they will be in the resurrection to learn of the history that happened to their city after they handed it to the next generations.

A walk on the beach, exploration of ruins, and some playing catch-up on managing notes and journals. I finish the afternoon back at the beach in a cafe with a very tall beer while I watched the surf pound the shore.

If the sea was sentient, I would surely think it had caught the beach with a lover—for hell hath no fury like the sea scorned, and it is relentless in it's assault on that sandy rocky stripe between terra and posiden's realm.

Client work called at 5:30, and I dutifully held on until it was time to leave for my meeting for worship at 7:30. I am used to a three minute drive. But here, the commute, with traffic, was nearly an hour!

We had an enjoyable time. Very relaxed and got to make some new friends.

Thursday, December 18, 2025

The next day started late. Working through the night has that effect.

The only thing on the map for the day was a surprise. Our friends booked a tour of a winery where they took about a mile of their old cellars and turned them into an art gallery. Thousands of works of art from Spain, southern Africa and around the world. The owner loved collecting art.

Bonus, they make amazing wine!!

But first, some client mop-up, then a dash out the door for our subterranean museum visit.

I was excited at the museum. And I have to say—I definitely could have stayed there all day.

The art was great, but the wine was irresistible: three glasses of sparkling brut, one rosé, and a fifth of a white, and I was positively ready to party.

We walked a mile and a half through old wine cellars. I found myself oddly drawn to the African art. How strange—and how telling—that their tombstones were ceramic penises for men and breast-like orbs for women. They had no written language, but they understood sex. And when it came to headstones, size definitely mattered. The more important you were, the bigger your representation.

Still, there were far more non-sexual pieces than phalluses. Masks and ebony carvings galore. In fact, the bulk of the collection was from sub-Saharan Africa.

Then there was the geode corridor—thousands of enormous geodes and crystals of every kind.

The tour ended with Portuguese artists, especially ceramicists. Loads of gorgeous, rich ceramics grouped by theme: birds, reptiles, food, flowers. And then these very curious bulls—not huge, about the size of a gallon jug. Shiny ceramic, each with a fill spigot behind the neck and a small twist handle at the shoulder.

The guide explained that you filled them with Aguardente Bagaceira (Portuguese moonshine), and when entertaining—once your guests agreed to imbibe—you’d have them hold a glass beneath the bull and turn the handle, whereupon the moonshine would run out of the bull’s genitals.

A strange, but he assured us, highly entertaining experience—especially after the first glass or two.

The art was fascinating in its diversity and origin. The collector clearly loved the southern African continent.

But the setting was even more captivating: 150-year-old tunnels where millions of bottles of wine had matured and made countless hearts happy—and no doubt broken a few as well.

The tunnels went on and on, dark and wet. There was a smell—sweet and damp. One section was so pungent and musky it made me cough. The sensation was overwhelming, like walking into an Indian kitchen that had vastly overused spices.

It was the same thousand feet as the geode and crystal collection, and I couldn’t tell whether the odor came from the rocks or from a particular wine once stored there.

The dark and the mystery were deeply appealing. I don’t know why I liked it so much. It wasn’t scary or dangerous, not even claustrophobic. The cleanliness, the art, the wine—it was the kind of place you naturally want to spend all day.

I pictured myself as Indiana Jones or Tom Sullivan, searching for a cross of the Knights Templar that would guide me to the next clue—or a missing page of the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili, carved into a stone stela, completing the mystery irrefutably.

The spell broke when, after a few hours, we ascended a winding staircase back to the living world and emerged—of course—through the gift shop.

Not an unpleasant ending. We toasted with glasses of a wonderful brut sparkling wine.

Since we were already south of Porto by an hour, it was an easy argument to convince me to ride up into the mountains to see the King’s Hunting Palace, now converted into an intensely posh hotel.

We arrived at dusk, passing through lovely Portuguese villages tourists rarely—if ever—see. How delightful to have local friends so willing to show us around.

The palace was incredibly ornate. Hardly six inches existed without some kind of decoration, sculpture, or visual interest. And it was huge. It would take a king’s wealth to build a structure like this—complete with a labyrinth garden and an impenetrable forest.

Barrel room

Snakes and lizards

Mermaid

Tile faced

Bucolic scene

Africa head

African Chalice

Terracotta heads

Phallic Cemetery

Ivory sculpts

Mc seaside

My church rock

Doorknob

Hummer