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I am but – not (again) on Facebook

Each time I venture out into this wobbly social network environment, I end up with a different set of friends.

Each time I start out with an idealistic point of view and end up with an office job.

The number of words in my notebooks go down as those here go up.

My work slow down and nothing gets published.

Eventually, I have to find a third job as well.

My work stops.

As you all know you end up carrying food from mother Earth to your mouth or money from your employer to your landlord.

Your work living is living the work.

I feel like some spirit somewhere sit with an enigmatic smile just waiting me to notice.

This time I kicked the ball twice.

At first it came about as I needed to find solutions regarding work and contacts. Some tell me to go on social networks. I think, okay, alright, I try again.

Old friends suddenly find out! ‘No longer in Copenhagen?’ they say. I find out somebody had died; this made me very sad. I didn’t know that. I hear from family, and so on.

After only a few days I find myself connected to almost exclusively Danish friends, family and colleagues and have to consider every word I write accordingly, tedious.

I feel tired; I have been here before I feel. Like a horse, walking in a circle?

I get bombarded with Denmark’s political predicaments regarding immigration.

As I consider myself a migrant as much as any I find that very sad too. Moving anywhere and cultivate the Earth, work, or live from your musical talent there, is not a crime in itself.

I find the entire discussion completely missing the point: ‘There are no difference and nothing but difference between people.’ All are equal before the law. We must collaborate and get along globally.

You should not have to apply to stay but just register so that you can commit to the laws and settle for the time you are there.

Everything else strictly is racism and global apartheid.

And that goes both ways – ‘it should not be necessary for anyone to pity themselves in order to get support and respect,’ I think to myself, ‘the discussion is not about what it apparently is about. People are already fighting over something else, something less honorable than the question of human rights, religion or asylum for fugitives?’

But this was not what I looked for actually; my fatigue turns into dread.

I find myself getting dragged back in my life and involved in old considerations, about loyalty towards certain musical styles, national ways, merits and customs, politics. Who is who and so on.

So I kick the ball a second time!

I remove all my friends and delete the profile. Then I create it again with the same mail (not hiding) but now somehow try to diverge to other countries by inviting anyone I stumble on no matter where from or who they are.

This happens to result in many fine people from many places reacting kindly even as Facebook is complaining a bit; many do not react and one confused colleague ask about having added me once?

I did it the second time – remixed it, because I could not sit here and relate to political threads, many containing the well-known verbal abuse from mad anti-everything’s, about the disgraceful Danish immigration policy and what not, on my first profile, among mostly Danes.

By random ways I somehow end up, among other, connecting with many fine people from Indonesia; and, in case you can read this – as a side remark, I feel big sympathy with you all; I notice COVID cause difficulties in Indonesia, I reflect on this, and I feel this big honest sympathy with you.

All of this is of course very nice – maybe a bit risky security-wise, so be it.

However, it was not the point of me getting on a social network again.

There it is again; this enigmatic smile from somewhere…

I usually finish leaving the online community behind me again.

It is likely I shall do that too this time.

Just like weathering do to castles in the sand.

Paris and the tale of paradoxical noise regulations

Everywhere, every and all the time I have lived in Paris, a construction site always found me. And always they said: ‘this is temporary, this is necessary…’. Now this has been about 10 years of temporariness?

Guys, do something!

Look, people, politicians, it must be possible to put together the best scientists and engineers and ask them to find the most environmental low-noise and non-polluting way to build and repair structures in urban areas, to be really smart and innovative about it?

This surely must be doable, a solvable task? Like what about modularization? The old masters of masonry knew how to do this smart.

Why isn’t this problem attacked, it is a very interesting problem!

This situation is absurd in many ways.

To mention one then there is this thing which is so hilariously nutty that it drives me insane: All construction sites use a diesel driven power generator to drive their tools, the concrete drills, the electrical saws and so on – and they do this in a town complete with MASSIVE nuclear power-plant backed huge electrical power-grids supplying things like subway trains, le Metro, and le putain de TGV the brilliant national high-speed electrical train network (?!).

Why, just WHY, do they need a messy DIESEL generator designed to withstand conditions on remote outposts on freaking Mars to run an electrical power drill here, in the middle of an urban area?? So much in the middle of electricity-heaven that they have to carefully study detailed 3d-maps to actually AVOID drilling into high-voltage iron and f****** die.

Now add to this picture that info-board; a digital info-board on our neighborhood corner educating us, the citizens, about the 60 bucks of fine you get if you cause … (ta-daa) noise-pollution.

Yes, they said it, la Ville de Paris: noise-pollution is a felony.

However, you see, that is not about the … beyond maximum outdoor mega death metal hard rock concert level construction site machinery from 7am year upon year that make entire buildings shake, nor is it the amazingly penetrating bone-marrow splintering wrrrroum of angry male gasoline consuming die-hard scooterists you can hear loud and clear at least three blocks away all over the place (and do beware never to approach such a creature; they are the incarnation of toxic masculinity on steroids and will happily send themselves to jail, ruin their lives, and yours too, should you comment on anything while they scooterize their urban war theater called French traffic).

No, not that kind of (permanent) TEMPORARY noises which are NECESSARY, because, something … yes, actually, why? (And why can’t we do better?)

But that’s not it. This is not the noise pollution la Ville de Paris talk about so kindly on the info-board.

That thing is – those illegal urban noises they are things like: street musicians (say, if we imagine a violinist, a guitar dude, or what-so-ever, can actually be heard over the scooters and diesel-drilling…), people having a good time talking and laughing at terraces late in the evening (people, like people, in a town, which is what you’d expect, no?), children playing (right, that is bad!), boom-boxes and hip-hop dancing, basket-balling, love making for open windows and so on. In other words, the leisurely ‘noise-pollution’ humans make when they have a life, noises you can actually bust someone for doing without hurting the economy (I guess?), and give them a fine.

See? It is insane; this is insane. This is definitely not bio.