Texts to Texts Enjoy is a collection of short stories, ramblings written in squats swimmingpools, pubs, during a beautycontest, on trains and what not.


Softcover - 63 pages

Last Night – or it’s cold

pg. 5

It’s cold up here. Two in the night with five more to go before I want to get out. Or maybe sit. But I am lying in so and can’t manage to fall asleep. Yeah, it’s fucking cold up here. Now I am writing here wearing a sweater and socks with my leather jacket on top of my blanket in the hope that it will be enough. But I doubt it. Anxiety with nothing to calm me the hell down, or for the same matter to keep me really going. Limbo is the shit. Brain dead ideas to think about. I feel somewhat hungry. Besides this I have the grave urge to build a large format camera from scratch. Something has happened here. Overload the fuckers and see the pig blow up. Like tomatoes in a pan. Sexual convenience store. I’m addicted to nonsensical bullshit and know this damned well. It’s worse than that of alcohol or whatever drugs may lead to. Instead of trying to work for a healthy dependency, it just immobilizes.

Damn, should I light up a smoke?

Laying on my bed, flat on my back and staring at the ceiling while the gray smoke thrill’s up in the air. The camera zooms in on me as I lay bare chested with the cigarette in my hand next to my lover. The soundtrack begins to play and I exhale. The pockets of my jacket are full, weighting it down. Even after I removed the empty scotch bottle from one side. I’m all trough. Found some change in my wallet. Hardly enough for four beers tomorrow, or a bottle of wine that I hardly will notice before it’s gone. Already dreading tomorrow night. Maybe I shouldn’t even stay. Can always go round in the morning to pick the rest of my furniture up. Cabbages. It would be nice to have someone to lay next to right now, preferably one that isn’t a blanket around me that still did not become a heating element. Possibly in her bed and not here. Mine would be the same as now, except that one person would be sleeping. Who I could not disturb by agonizing over silly stuff like this. But in the end, it wouldn’t matter. Because tomato. Tomatoe. Knock yourself out on the diversity of this all. Tomorrow, actually today, I will get up. Try to find enough fitting clothes to wear under my work suit. Take a hot shower and stand outside for seven or eight hours. Oh well, it pays a part of the bills at least, and the job is fun. Might even feed me at one point this month. But change has come, as well as the water next to my bed has gone. Let’s try to go out once again before I wake up today.


The condom


He was high on something Probably speed, but who cares. At least it’s near irrelevant. The party was okay, a bit overcrowded and it had some odd mixtures concerning the guests. But aside these minor inconveniences, one of the biggest problems that night was the shortage of beer. Everybody was drinking and it was near impossible to hoard a stash in the “crowd”. Please, keep this in mind as we skip back a bit. He was high and had a cute girl arranged just for the occasion.

For some reason it would have been a sure thing for him. But, in a similar but still a stark contrast to my problem, he also had one for himself. Still keeping his somewhere depraved form of sensibility, probably for his own protection, he needed some rubbers for the night. Well, it’s a good thing that that poor girl remains relatively safe.

Anyway, he needs rubbers and I need beer. Just as I had learned from my dear mother, I had a couple of them with me. Quick run upstairs, he got one and I got a cold one.

No problem.

Later, I learned that he still managed to fuck up. Called out the wrong name…

The beer was good though.



pg. 26

There was a bra lying at my feet. A black one, with a shiny black cup. Even more were put in that plastic bag, just a few feet away. But that was it, all the clothing was already in a suitcase. A woman was packing them. Twisting and turning, pivoting around an unseen axis, the room was tied around her.

She had beautiful eyes. Blue. Shining. There was nothing more sensual about her than those two accents. But she moved like nobody was there. Slowly, I ate the orange slices that were given to me to have something till the drinks were ready. She was still moving, from the notches and cracks of the room the final pieces were guided in to the packs. Done, and the offered drinks were also in a state of waiting. The bag of bras was somewhere gone, and so was she within an hour. All I have gotten was one of her shinning eyes, so I should leave to. 


It was way to early in the morning. Darkness or not outside, it was indeterminable in there, under the bright tubes and spots that were covering the ceiling. Way too early. The ones without routine got into that uncomfortable feeling of being padded down, getting touched by another human being in a way that you would normally not allow. To get so close and into the place where you only give access to for pleasure or perversion. That unease against the human gate machine. After being booted through and getting immersed in the swamp of uneasy humans who are trying to get back to ther supposed decency, right there at the front porch of having way to much time for that. There, in the same over lit hall everybody was cropped up in their conquered square meter, guarding their possessions like everybody would hold a reason to be paranoid for. When the spaces, all those small squares ran out, then some strangers emerge and try out the nomadic way of waiting to go the same way with the rest. Then the signal comes end every strangers get’s up, get’s in line to get processed once more. No eye contacts as we get showed in the big tube, even more cropped up. Next to each other, tied to the chair they sit on. No chance to run or hide. I close my eyes and 5 minutes later I am gone, somewhere totally else. For the good or the ill. 


At the second day that nobody was home to answer the bell, my luck showed itself and I was able to sneak in to the building. Well, at least I can dunk the letter in his mailbox with the picture of them at her funeral. This was as far as my luck ran, his mailbox was overflowing with mail, something that has never happened in all my days. This broke my confidence and slowly I ascended the stairs. Just to check what I could check. The windows of his apartment had the ragged drapes sealed. Walking by, I found the flies. A thick black mark filling up the inner ledge, all dead. The same scene welcomed me at the kitchen window, except for one broken glass tile on the inner pane. Some grotesque reality had happened here, that was the only thing clear. Only a frenzied hunt through the building delivered an answer to this brutal riddle. He had died, rotted for more than a month until the police took him away. They had no records of family so he got filed away as “without relatives”. He died alone, sitting in his armchair. His heart stopped. Only I knew at that moment. After a month I went back. He was buried but for the rest, nothing has changed. I even saw a living fly. The house was still rotting away. But, at least the neighbors left two cans of fly killer in the window. But that was a month later, a month passing away.

It was near freezing point that day. I was walking outside when I found {him?}. Nothing more than a baggage, a piece of cloth and bag, in the form of what might be human. Was he alive? Frozen to death? Was I staring at an unwilling mummy? After all I did not stop, I did not get the answer to these questions. Later that day, it had turned into nigh. The pile had lost it’s form, the core went missing. I think I was relived. For me, or for {him?}?


 That night, they were fucking, inside there. No, wait, I didn’t meant to say that. They called it love making as they have corrected me indirectly beforehand. “I {we} don’t fuck, boink or whatever, we make love.” But anyway, they knew it, we knew it. They were having sex inside that room, just one small thin door away between them and at that point me and us. The fact that there came no noise out of there proved that they were gone. The room was filled with stuff lying around, clothes, tools, papers and what not on the floor. With in the end the double bed, overthrown sheets and a few random items covering it. Ten minutes later they stepped outside, slightly giggling as she said: “Good evening” to all of us. As the whole family had assembled. They were back again, but nobody entered that room anymore for the rest of the evening. Everybody knew, but you don’t talk about stuff like that. 


“GuguguguguGughahagagahagaa” I was getting that feeling again, hoping it shall be still some where the same, the ambiance, the view and what not. They would be probably the same in there. Good people, a bit scrambled sometimes, maybe. He picked me up at the station and we walked, talked, up, in, locks opened and there was the rubble, still there. Pop - the wines opened and we started talking, drinking, sudden bursts of creativity with a hint of gnomes and another drink next to talking. But the feelings were about nothing much, just another night in there. We went to a birthday party they were invited to. Still don’t know who they were. But that doesn’t make a difference –  still nothing. A good night of indifference, so let’s find my mattress in that lot. 


After I don’t know how long I found myself in front of the train station once again. It was dark outside, but the streets were still buzzing with people. Everything was moving, runking, moving...whatever. I was waiting there, just walking up and down, undecided. A guy came up to me, asking what I was doing. In the background, the lights of a local sex-shop were shining. I answered that I was waiting. “Good for you, want some Cannabis?” Did not want to have anything from him, but as I turned toward him he noticed the high powered camera bungling at my side. Heh, he found himself a realizations. 

“Are you working for the news or something?” 

“Not right now, Currently I’m not like that.”

Damn it, There goes a casual shot on the street. They would not react passively to that right now. 

“We had once a news shoot right hereat the corner, some kind of report. Shit, I didn’t notice that we were working full in the picture. So what are you doing then?”

“Just waiting”

“Good for you”

And that was it, a new deal came up and he ebbed away. After a while, so did I.  

Lynard Skynard – Freebird was playing in the old pub. There was a grate representation from the old crew for some reason. Accomplices from a few years back.  We didn’t know each other anymore. A few lost words here and there that acknowledged that we were friends a while ago. In the full bar, with chords of freebird playing, I am sitting alone. Beer in one hand, the barmaid in front of me. Nice shirt. The song’s gone, I enjoy. Solace. And Led Zepp starts.