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I am rewarding myself today with a pasta dish for lunch, a healthy shake, a cappuccino and a delicious chocolate mousse cupcake following. Why? I have no idea why I deserve this attack of extravagance. I am at a point where I should eat rice and drink tea, iced coffee and fried banana instead of blueing my savings. But as always in a competitive situation, I don’t care and I prove to myself that black is black. And why not reward? I do since two weeks strictly speaking nothing, less strict, getting wasted, go fishing with my brothers, sitting in my metal chair on my metaling terrace at my fuckin metaling apartment, a short ride from the center but vast of green, dogs, cats, chickens and a relaxed neighbourhood, executing karaoke or a random playlist of the worst, the bad and the unbearable, every evening. Here and there some work, but such as here and there, that it seems more a distraction from rewarding me, for not being too distracted by distraction. Siem Reap is truly a home, so in a good and a bad way. It feeds me well with bullshit and shits on my head with pleasure. I could teach. I could feed poor kids. I could do something meaningfull, instead vulnerating. I could follow my narcissistic ego, guiding reliable to a contented balance. But I need a bit darkness. I miss my shadows. Deconstruction. Triviality. The opposite is being productive. We are not allowed to not to produce. We always do – ignoring the matter of quality and value. We reproduce as we can´t ignore. I am not satisfied to produce shit, even if nobody cares – or thinks it´s natural, organic or even better: art. Shit in your own toilet! Production demands success, to be a piece of a bigger plan, the masterplan, your life, your goals, your career – my comeback – or at least intends to mean something, to someone, finally to yourself. Not only consumption. Killing toilet water and electrifying the night, blowing out the stars, between eating, drinking, smoking. I am consuming such outrageous, following my personal popular miscreed, that there must be someday somehow an end, this can´t keep going, you ravenous gorge, you are not the end! I will kill you!

Yesterday an indian holidayer assured me after providing him the dead key datas of my nowadays, “You have a good life.” using my perfection as an opportunity to complain about his miserable life, his wife, family, worries, the corrupt malaysian government – Please! For the last time, corruption is immanent! – and his speeding age. Looking at me with admiration. I can see me party in his tears of remorse, free like the Marlboro man and as drunken as his horse, every day, playing cards, tramping wasteland by wasteland, stiring up a woman´s odor with stories of an adventurer. No regrets, no responsibilities, no problems. “And you have seen lots of things.” It isn’t about how many places you see, but see what you can’t see. Sounds mysterious and energetic, but is basically exactly a misdirecting character of a prejudice. Pathetic. Why does it bother me that he has not a shot how tough it is and it was to get here, to this point. I want him to see my suffering, he annoys me with his shallowness and heroism. Don´t like being created by people. I do enjoy my life away from scraper and mortar, from the society´s need to class and to produce. This bores me. Permanent resistance. But on the other hand it´s entertaining and I have something to tell, even if it´s heavily boring.