If life in the Rock N Roll Slow Lane is anything, it is mundane. Finding oneself as a middle aged rock loser with an expanding waistline tends to limit the opportunities one is presented in life, I've found. I suppose an extremely limited social circle simply means I have failed in yet another of life's arenas apart from music! I have failed to find fellows. Failed to find like-minded ship mates to accompany me aboard this flimsy raft I find myself on in the choppy waters of life's Existential Seas. The result of these failings is, rather prosaically, finding yourself with lots of free time and of course, the problem of what to do with it all when your address book and your wallet are empty! So it was I found myself rummaging in the attic here at Stoned Holy H.Q engaged in some humdrum task but unearthing instead, amidst the miscellaneous material garbage I have amassed in my disappointing journey through existence, some yellowing fragments of papyrus. Upon shaking off a covering of dust and mouse droppings some barely discernible hieroglyphs scrawled with a biro pen were revealed. Being most learned in the ways of both Hiero & Glyph, no Rosetta Stone was required to quickly discern that these ancient writings dated from the time when a younger and less world weary version of Stoned Holy Rollers toured round Deutschland sowing musical pearls before hard-core swine! I present these writings to you now, my most discerning Blogosphere friends, in the hope they entertain!
"Busted flat in Berlin & it comes on like a wave. Call it Beat Attitude, or maybe Beattitude, but eyes with lids heavy were made to see anew. And so, with these All New Baby Blues and my Scuffled Down Shoes I shuffle round the WeltStadt of Berlin....
Maybe some other time we can uncloak our vulnerable humanities & take a stroll down Desolation Row but I'm here now to tell you about the Beat Bars & Fallen Stars of Berlin....but how to tell of of the Plans n Scams in motion as a city Hustles & Hassles for the folding?!
Sexy girls dance to the constant rattle of S-Bahns shaking like rattlesnakes as they slither all over Berlin's naked body. But this city that trams rumble through isn't the only one that's here. Pay 6DM to go the top of the Fernseher Turm or climb the Siegesalle and there, superimposed on the ashen, angular streets is the City of Possibilities : Berlin's simultaneous realities in a cityscape inhabited by dreamers & firebrands alike....Trash Time Is Over, Gentlemen!
The Art of the Deal & The Art of the Steal amount to the same damn thing on the sullen cobblestones of Lichtenberg which are slaved to the machine that has assumed a life of its own - but it's an illusion! Look upon the serried ranks of Drone Homes in Wedding and it's hard to imagine, when you consider the Spreading, Grey Cancer that is Berlin, that the banks of Der Spree were once blanketed in moss and kingfishers flashed over its limpid waters!.....
Global Consciousness or Global Destruction is waiting round the corner but that doesn't concern many, as Berlin, in all its Insane, Life-Sucking, Mind-Fucking Energy; A Corrupt, Vile, Venal, Glorious, Angelic, Bizarre, Unspeakable, Contemptible, Tragic, Pathetic sum of its Countless, Incalculable & Unimaginably Contrary, Opposite, Mismatched & Disharmonious parts is bathed in Sunlight and this day - which will see New Life Howl & Old Eyes, that witnessed the Fall of Hitler & the Rise of badly dubbed American Sit-Coms, Fade and Die - lifts itself dutifully over the Horizon!
Yes, up in the Consumer Palaces of the Ku-Dam they're steppin' out of Big German Cars & Expensive Designer Clothes but Rules are for Fools and only serve to get in the way of an honest drug deal on the Toxic Death Strip by Warschauer Strasse....A Trinketted Huddle of Punk Retards panhandle kleingelt outside the supermarket on Frankfurter Allee whilst inside nobody notices the Angel behind the counter selling Volkbrot. Later, Hungry Buskers play the bars on Hackescher Markt whilst outside cars slow to check out the whores.....
The Darling Young Things of Nollendorfplatz are busy posing as another batch of delicious batura drop with a sizzle into the hot oil. Guards with Rifles & Alsatian Dogs patrol the U-Bahn on Oranienburger as the junkies give blowjobs on Kurfurstendammer. Inside, Josie the Erotic Dancer bares her tits & pays the bills whilst outside the Korean Nicotine Conspiracy blows hot breath into cold hands as it waits to circumvent the taxman & sell you cheap, pirate cigarettes, suffering harassment and beatings from Polizei & Sexually Frustrated, Hormonally Tormented, Neo-Nazi Thugs just so Deutschland can smoke itself to an early grave!!...
These visions were revealed unto me between Friedrichstrasse & Alexanderplatz on a S7 bound for Erkner & Glory! I had not paid the fare! Everything Is Yours! Interested in a knock-off generator for 500 Donx?!?!......."
Tschusschen! Vielspass! Susse Trauma!
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| Pfarr Strasse 88 : Ich Bin Frei! |
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