The Doomed Messiah

 Way too many people these days expect their platitudes to have some kind of precedence over the laws of physics. While being the odd ball that I am does seem to have a strange attraction, I’m not inclined to see it as some kind of cosmic deliberation. Lately one long-time acquaintance seems to be sinking ever deeper into that void of moral dilemma. We were never that close to really involve myself, just an occasional social thing. My circumstances were always far too complicated to afford much of that, let alone expect others to. Mind you for that, many would come to me for advice whenever the going got tough. All fine and well, but don’t expect me to feel obligated to give it. Some people just don’t understand my ambivalence towards ideology. I don’t believe in a perfect world. Nature always sides with the hidden flaw, no matter what you wish.

Much of my teenage years were spent in the Ruhr District where there was never a shortage of places to go and things to do. Hence people there appreciate diversity and are very open spoken. This is not the case in Ortenau, and notoriously ridiculed for it. I found myself forever being dragged into Discos, clubs and events where people seek comfort in their cliques, staring at others like lost sheeple, but heaven forbid if you try to approach them. They take immediate offense. I asked this guy what the hell kind of social life is that? He tells me that I should try to fit in. That’s when I told the lot to bugger off; it would take a full frontal lobotomy to even tolerate such faceless bullshit. I can think of better ways to waste my time, in more colourful locations, with those who at least know what a sense of adventure is.

From there on in I thought I had my peace, only rarely crossing paths with that mundane lot, but this has been marked by intrusive Sunday visits whenever shit happens and his public image takes a nose dive. It’s always the proverbial “why me” as if all that pandering deserves some kind of divine entitlement. That already went pear-shaped looking for damsels in distress on foreign dating sites. He thinks he’s so well meaning in his quest, that he suggests I should do the same (as if I really need it). Obviously he doesn’t know what a “romance scammer” is no matter how I explain it.


So after a brief ordeal with a Thai woman, he lands one in the Dominican Republic, oblivious to her multiple identities. Don’t ask me what love is when neither really understands the language. No surprise she was refused a German visa, despite their marriage on one of his visits. “Oh no, she’s just a hair stylist at the local beauty salon, nothing criminal”, he tells me. Rather than investigating this, he keeps spouting that perpetual mantra about government conspiracy and corruption- like they made this up to keep us all back on the farm. *sigh* I rebuked- “Look man, just because I went through a lot of shit in the cold war zone doesn’t mean it never ended. Times have changed and I’m out of that game. It took me years to get a real life so I’m not about to give it up for just another colonial backwater. Save your threats of pulling the pin, because I just can’t hear it anymore”. Needless to say, this really angered him and he comes on with that “fit-in” nonsense again. It’s like all these years I was just a projection of his own inner Schweinehund. As if we should have nothing better to do than follow his so-called better judgment.


Well it’s over pal, no matter how you want that laptop fixed to sneak in through the back door. Nor is lamenting Bro on his sex change gonna win you that pity party. Go hang yourself on a cross elsewhere.

Reconstructed Heathenry

I can understand why the Icelandic Ásatrúarfélagið wants naught to do with the above mentioned. Call me a bog-standard heathen as I was never Christened nor baptized. That whole genre you’re trying to get at, is like waiting for a ship at a bus station. German heritage as I learned it, is largely an oral tradition with much of the original meaning preserved in the language itself. Such roots seem a complete mystery to Anglophones who rely on spurious sources of loosely interpreted translations, looking for regimes in what was and still is a diaspora, each location with its own nuances as one would naturally expect. European ethno-culture encompasses some 230 languages, aside from the various dialects thereof. My Prussian grandfather saw need to teach me these things, for fear of it becoming distorted by the Nazis. Indeed they were hell bent on making the “Allfather” the universal alternate to Yahweh, much to the demise of the Jewish people. Although Christianity was just as ruthless in its pursuits, the common folk did not have the privilege of literacy; and so the oral memory and its customs, still lives on.


In the beginning it was all elementals, spirits and cunningfolk; often tricksters traveling in the guise of the poor and elderly- helping the needy and making complete fools of the greedy. They were all to be respected, with offerings of whatever one prospered from their providence. One did not simply fell trees or till the soil without consulting the wights. This was the beginning of agrarian times in Europe some 7 thousand years ago. The moon was the bearer of the seed- the months according to its cycles, were 13. The setting of the Pleiades marked the start of the growing season, and when they rise in Samuin we honour the ancestors and those who have passed. The long night of the wild hunt was understood as the marriage of the Sun with the Earth Mother in her underworld domain to fertilize and rejuvenate growth. A time of culling and cleansing.


I could go on and on, but the bottom line is, you lot need to get out of that pedantic Anglo-latinzed mind set if you really want to understand these things.