Hey, yo! Routine. You’ve got me back. Missed me? No? I didn’t miss you
either. I’m now fully back physically and mentally. My London time feels now
like a dream that occurred once in a while but was never fulfilled.
This is in fact not true at all. It’s my everyday routine that blurs my
memory.
Occasionally, I spend my break from work in an office in a café. Oh yes,
I have another internship now. I should search for an internship union, I could
be their president. Become a person like Bsirske, only with a much better
sounding name.
But that is not my aim and would also be a topic for another post. While
sitting in the café in Kreuzberg, I always see the same people there. One guy
is quite interesting to mention. He has long white hair, kept together with a black
hair tie. This ponytail-man, around 60, wears black clothes. In an existentialism
way, which means polo-neck jumper and round eyeglass lenses. He is possibly a
relict from the student protests of the 70s, but hasn’t got this glow of
intellectual radicalism. It’s a glow that most students are lacking. Whether
it’s intelligence or radicalism. I leave that open. I’m lacking both. But I’m
fine with that. I’m working class. That makes me radical enough and any
academic achievement of mine makes me a good example of integration as I’m half
not from Germany and officially counted as a ‘Person mit
Migrationshintergrund’.
But back to wannabe Camus. He always has, of course, a book with him,
sitting in a corner of the café. This overview gives him a perfect chance to
spot his victims, whom he can torture with his breathtaking philosophy. These victims
are female, middle-aged and good-looking. On a day, when Sartre-double had the
book ‘Hedonistic World Views’ (I did NOT make this up) on his table, I saw him
with his prey in the corner, discussing emotionally societal norms.
Yes, everyone has their own routine. I’m glad that mine changes every
three months. This the length of the average internship. I have been living
with that for years now. That is my normal pattern, my memory works in these
time units. What does that say about me?
I think I should read more Foucault.
