I tilt the salt-jar, drop the coffee, spill the soda in the car, is a hazard in traffic, tumble in my lazes, forget my keys, talk nonsense and generally just lost the ladder part of my motorics.
He is dead now. Gone. Or somewhere in between.
He died the night of july 10th. My friend, soulmate, brother and verbalizer extravaganza lost the battle against racing cancer. That he got sick in the first place is the injustice thats fills me the most. And that so many people does freezes the indignation. We are all loosers and up for graps.
Jakob.
Jakob.
april 6th 1968 - july 10th 2008.
we simouoltanesously left university in a one cocky move, I didnt now him then, but that decision - leaving university, was the only time our friendship shared consensus, the only time we experienced it, ando the start of a life long friendship.
we simouoltanesously left university in a one cocky move, I didnt now him then, but that decision - leaving university, was the only time our friendship shared consensus, the only time we experienced it, ando the start of a life long friendship.
I had known him half my life when he passed away. Bit farewell there, his wristclock still ticking.
Motherfucking helsinki. Its how you get there more than being there its seems.
Motherfucking helsinki. Its how you get there more than being there its seems.
Meeting jakob was like moving from a protected enviroment, the smoothness of a shoppingmall - to omaha beach. Take cover or stand up for your self. Way your words. Be what you are, not the least, be what you say you are.
motherfucking helsinki. It is as evil as it leaves me cold. A stranded jet on the runway. snow covers every exit. You have to go, you do not have a choice. the simple fatalistic purpose or lack of the same. it aint moving. unless you get in there.
It was even better than I dared imagine and always grew stronger by the minutte, dispite firery differences, msungo jakob stayed in close orbit. I could always get a clear signal. I could always count on presence and outlines. I never waited and I never doubted.
Not as in motherfucking helsinki.
The books always clearly and without doubt overuled the press and let the press stand naked in its own thruth which is very small. Thats was the joke. Till tears ran from our eyes. Puke out the fire, literally. Was that the beginning, or the end starting to show?
motherfucking helsinki. That was dark. Without grace. I promised you a five day hike to the peak of Kilimanjaro and I am gonna do that: Make the whole Serengeti echo your name. Ill carry that tshirt for years like a tatoo, like a motherfucking cold in motherfucking helsinki. africa tugged away under the horny shadow of europe. The curse of europe you said, is that you can be lonely, but you can never be alone.
The simple truth dripping from the scorched mountains of Andalucia. The circus days: There is good shit and there is bad shit. You called it fugaism. That stuff should mean stuff. Home is where your jamon is. I loved that shit. That - ultimately- there is only good shit and bad shit remembering that it is never as white as it looks.
It was even better than I dared imagine and always grew stronger by the minutte, dispite firery differences, msungo jakob stayed in close orbit. I could always get a clear signal. I could always count on presence and outlines. I never waited and I never doubted.
Not as in motherfucking helsinki.
The books always clearly and without doubt overuled the press and let the press stand naked in its own thruth which is very small. Thats was the joke. Till tears ran from our eyes. Puke out the fire, literally. Was that the beginning, or the end starting to show?
motherfucking helsinki. That was dark. Without grace. I promised you a five day hike to the peak of Kilimanjaro and I am gonna do that: Make the whole Serengeti echo your name. Ill carry that tshirt for years like a tatoo, like a motherfucking cold in motherfucking helsinki. africa tugged away under the horny shadow of europe. The curse of europe you said, is that you can be lonely, but you can never be alone.
The simple truth dripping from the scorched mountains of Andalucia. The circus days: There is good shit and there is bad shit. You called it fugaism. That stuff should mean stuff. Home is where your jamon is. I loved that shit. That - ultimately- there is only good shit and bad shit remembering that it is never as white as it looks.
I learned to love you, without going cold like in motherfucking helsinki, like racing an ambulance on the freeway, safe, but under the influence of the basic insecure and blurring terms of constant change.
It just never should only pay to be good.
Thats why motherfucking helsinki wouldnt do the trick. Its frozen, the soundtrack was brilliant. but not enough. Get that plane off the ground. Liftoff.
It doesnt stop here. It aint that white.
Thats why motherfucking helsinki wouldnt do the trick. Its frozen, the soundtrack was brilliant. but not enough. Get that plane off the ground. Liftoff.
It doesnt stop here. It aint that white.
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