Day 151: 8 Random Facts

Ok, so this ‘random facts’ thing: I guess I cannot postpone it any longer and somehow something within me resists the idea of thinking about it (too much existential anxiety at this part of my dissertation process to allow for actual self-reflection–cans of worms, etc.)–so here it goes:

1. I used to own a restaurant, which I believe to be one of the most horrible things I have done in my life (financially, ideologically, professionally, etc.).

2. I used to be on the German B ‘Team-Nationalkader’ for swimming for a while, played first German division American football and hate jocks.

3. My breakfast this morning consisted of two cups of coffee, a ‘Camel Wides’ cigarette and a Power Bar.

4. I regularly fantasize about smashing things I see with a big sledgehammer (in fact, I have a very sophisticated imaginary process that involves judging the structural integrity of the object to be destroyed, which is followed by the imaginative selection between different kinds of hammers best suited for the job–i.e. maximum damage and most disturbing effect on onlookers–makes, e.g., waiting in doctor’s offices more bearable).

5. I LOVE animals, nature and generally dislike people, even though I am bad at being alone and have made it my job to study people (to put it more clearly: I feel myself drawn toward people but when I am around them I can primarily relate to them as objects of study, making me feel like a perpetual spy, often not by choice–I assume US conventions dictate some kind of medication-regimen for something like this–I love and hate it, however, which is what makes my job work for me–after all: studying contradictions is the essence of a critique of capitalism–well, that and the rejection of bourgeois individualism and egocentric self-indulgence, which can take the form of voluntary soul-striptease publicly displayed on a blog–sometimes I can be cynical–at least that’s what people tell me–oh, and I think Love can save the world–I am with Marcuse on the ’emotional bond’ argument here–even though I critically tend to side with anti-humanism [the Marxist form, that is], for obvious reasons).

6. I am terribly arachnophobic and it seems to be getting worse.

7. The Last Unicorn is one of my favorite movies, I have been watching it religiously (yes, religiously–this may in fact be the only religion my atheism pemits me to indulge in) since I was 5 years old and I don’t care what you think.

8. I often fantasize about running away but I don’t know where to.

So, there you go. Now, I guess, it is my duty to tag 8 more people to do the same. This is a rather difficult endeavor, as the blogging community I am a part of reveals itself more and more as a somewhat incestuous community and many of those within our network have already been tagged (so much for the internet and its potential for creating transnational networks that can create a multitude and total democracy–seems like we just digitally re-create small networks that exist in a similar fashion in real life). Trying to do my best I hereby tag: red crochet, shannon, erin, ben, caveblogem, natascha, joanna and, what the hell: William Gibson (I am sure he would get a kick out of this psychological clusterfuck).

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4 Comments

  1. The first one made my jaws drop to the floor. Ouch!

  2. Btw, I also occasionally indulge in your sledge hammer fantasy, only that it’s either a wooden or metal club that I use. And I admit that I have imagined the accompanying sound of breaking bones sometimes.

  3. About the first one: yes, I was young, stupid and needed the money.
    (I should have done porn instead, really.)

    Good to hear I have sledgehammer-psychosis-sisters! Maybe we could take a trip to Las Vegas together at some point, sit down somewhere and just let our minds go nuts. 🙂
    (oh–Las Vegas, btw, is one of the places on earth I dislike the most–just to clarify my selection.)

  4. The one time that my club fantasy really saved my life was in 1991 on an 18 hour bus trip to Calella, Spain. I was sitting in the second row and the bus was packed with people who had just been released from the German Democratic Republic. The guy sitting in front of me must have been so heavy that he managed to break the sit which as a result bent further back than all the others, hardly giving me any leg room. Those people, not yet acquainted with the treacherous wonderworld of capitalism, didn’t stop commenting on whatever they saw through the window and I felt squeezed to death, mentally and physically. Had I not had my imaginary club, I probably would have.

    If Calella doesn’t ring a bell: It’s the continental Mallorca. That season, plastic strawberries which ejected a little penis when you squeezed them were high in fashion on the souvenir stalls.


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