christof

churzi Ifüehrig a diä Aghörige
dä Jesus gits eigentli nid. Usert är chunt vo Südamerika. Dänn heisst dä Jesus. Supermann gits eigentli au nid. Git au hie ä Usnahm, nämli im Fium. Allah, dass isch au ä Figur us dä Relegion, i dä Praxis ghör ich vo ihm Opium. Warum nid goht dini Gott und mini räd dö Dealer, mit sich oder mich gmeint, bisch du India vo Chue, nei lueg wär isch Gott, zeigt mär d`Hand u i säge Gäut. Churz, isch furchtbar diä imaginäre Type sich versprächet im Schwyzerdütsch o mau chli Slang muesch Englisch ha würkt dass, aso sowas würd viellicht jo go aber dä Inhaut vo däne isch schrecklich. Ä lüg. Steu Dir vor so ä Person hät Familiä und nid nur das wiu därewäg Gott wiu Gäut verwaute. Dänke mir, wänn das nid verstoh chasch dänn isch das ä ächti Katastrophe mit Dir. So nid. Im nächste Moment Buda, sicher nid gäu. Im stille gseit, äbe luut mit dä Wort. Ich han eigentli nüt defür das nüt chasch usert am Bill oder am Steve im System Datepflege. Chranke Pflägerä. Chrank mache u pfläge. Super. Daummen hoch. Läck mir hei... Joooh, zwöi Stung hani de aubä scho bis aus gmacht isch bi mir um sicher sie das nid würd ga weni bi mir dihei haubpatzig würd s`Huus verloh um aja, sogar bi angärä dihei Service mach wär dä das weder fisch no vogu bi mir. Zwüscheddure muess i ono choche. z`Mittag ha u dä, wenni das ono recht mache isch scho fast abe. Döfür hanis guet.
Im Rock n`Roll isch das ähnlich. Bevor mä geit go häufe weiss mä ebe das jetzt dä scho baud Türe öffnet. Pardon, es Tee`li, wenn aues guet geit. Ja guet ono abbaue när. Angersits no hie de ono die ganz Tastatur muess mache mit auem drum u dra jede Tag ufschriebe, bearbeite, exportiere und speichere, vergeit o wieder jäää ä haube Tag scho. Recht muetig gäu. Wär meint scho hät ä Computer im Chopf, heists scho wieder Rechner. Die bestä für dä wär gloub ä Roustuhl wiu schuscht muesch echt schnorre. Aber äbä die Schnurre. Das weiss ma sit em 19i das offebar i däre Wäut nid älei die Kehl het Zunge. Die angäre äbe ob het d`Fledermus gmeint. Jetzt impfe, Stechschnoge. I säuber ha oscho ä Natel gha. Nachem C- Telefon no voräm Handy. Aber woni das gha ha isch irgendöpis komisch gsie. So erwartig i dä Luft oder so und glichzytig hätti äbe söue parat sie zm lose am nöchste Gig. Darum hani das irgendeinisch ufghä. Mini Bruef hani nid welle gäge das Mobile a Nagu hänke. Jahre spöter, wo die jetzt wo alli eis händ het mir die künstlächi Inteligänz äbe gseit seig ich ganz anders. Sozäge Architekt u nid i däre Oberflächlichkeit wies meischt bi Lüt schient sie im Displayschein gfange. No gar nonig so lang här da hani vom einte oder angerä Chefin glernt, jetzt hei er grad uf em Handy gseh das en Aal vom Aargau zum Permuda Dreieck gschwumme u zrügg sig. Wirklich jetzt. I, ja i bi uf Spreitbach gange wiu dört gebs die beste Brot. U i, i weiss gar nid was säge, ha hufe Chunde im Büro gha aber kei einzige Rapport. Nid eine. Seig alles guet. Alles gmacht u chum hani das ufgschriebe gha, hani chöne sicher si, meh als ei Tag geits de nid mit däne neue und ich muess storniere, neu schriebe.

I don't need a soundcheck. I already know that. Your stage, my gain. Go go! Your sound, my weather. Your propaganda, my measures. Your event, my audience. Your cash register, my faderbank. Nobody really needs your company. Your group, my band. Your costs, my wallet. Your consumers, my insurers. Phew, event supplier. It would be a concert hall. No, it's not a box either. Neither in terms of taste nor substance. Poor production. Not like this. Maybe you've lost your hearing. So much for a box. Typical, drugs, oh threat. Oh, no. What is it then. A deal with the owner or a deal with the manufacturer. Or do you really want to cover a song. My condolences. I'm doctor.

Yes, you know, at some point you have so many problems that you have no other option but to go into politics. No normal man, no normal woman would even consider something like that. Well, there can be many reasons for going into politics. But there isn't a single reason we haven't already encountered. Leading, on life and time.

I'm not a normal person either, if anything, I'm one of the few who have a permanent residence. People are constantly commuting, and those who have neither a fixed address nor a permanent residence are living abroad.

I mean, especially after the pandemic, the lack of snow in winter, and the expansion of the internet, it's become even clearer that it's better to be at home than in the world. Now would be the right time to talk about money because, ultimately, agriculture is more important than money. The same applies to trades in general; a distinction must be made between those out there earning money and us disabled people sitting inside. And please, don't come at me with council, administration, or bureaucracy. This belongs in grades 3-6.

I don't want you sleeping together at such a young age. Postponing this behavior because I don't want to see any more families being driven out of the city center just to keep rents as high as possible is crucial. It's especially important now to ensure there's a place for everyone, or rather, that the space on Earth should be two-thirds more water, and that the rest doesn't have to exploit every last drop out of feelings of inferiority.

We probably need more diversity to create a balance; you don't have to build a house in a suit. You can do it. Certainly, if you're absolutely certain, you can even build a house in dress shoes and a suit, but as soon as you do it in a group, it becomes more difficult because then everyone in that group has to be absolutely sure of their own position and that of others. Operating machines and observing isn't very difficult. Staying sober, and never starting to smoke, makes it almost too easy for routine. Therefore, it should be possible to do research, to write something, without immediately being able to make a living from it or sell millions.

A key to success is self-care. Focusing primarily on yourself. Organizing a meeting and going to a festival is like a lock that's lost its key. You might not necessarily be wasting time, but it becomes increasingly difficult to keep up.

Conversely, I wouldn't be the most expensive, but I would be the richest.

A brief word for the deceased professor and activist. I was hunted down and robbed of my home, put out on the street. After years of being hounded about whether I was keeping up with my books, it never occurred to any party or authority to scrutinize my budget. I knew the demands were impossible to meet. However, I've learned that it doesn't matter at all. It's all a matter of timing. You can have anything. Even a shop would never make a profit if the numbers at the ATM weren't cooperating. It doesn't really matter, does it? The main thing is to get involved in money laundering and remain respectable, or try your luck with some cryptocurrency. This fundamental systemic flaw regarding lies and truth in events has led me to turn away completely. Jesus Christ, the Father himself, is ultimately in charge, which is why the nation prays and has no interest in facing the truth. To create with money, I say, money must correspond to the value of time. If this is not the case, it doesn't matter what you are capable of or not. I was locked up and subjected to psychiatric blackmail. I never gave up my will, otherwise I wouldn't be here now. I persevered. Now I have the most beautiful apartment in the city.

I often wonder if I even want to meet anyone I know in this Christian state anymore, completely neutrally, of course. I ask myself this because my word is worth more than those of people who make money. Even my mother reminds me what it was like to be under such psychological delusion. Actually, I have to set an example and insist that it wasn't as simple as my relatives think my right path has been. They so often say, "Oh, come to this celebration and forget about cars, planes, and trains for a while." Honestly? It pains me deeply to have to say, quite frankly, that their money really does stink when they talk.

Just so you don't misunderstand me, I don't own a car and I'll never drive one again. I've flown once, I'm sure, but I'll never fly again, and I avoid trains and buses as much as possible. Maybe I'll have a chauffeur someday, but looking at it now, the leaves on balcony are already yellow. No wonder, with all this exhaust fumes. There are people who say that all of this is necessary and even healthy. Perhaps people believe that otherwise nature would produce more emissions than humans themselves, and that this is simply unacceptable. That strikes me as odd. I think someone, or everyone, is completely crazy. I already told a producer this once, but he said, "Then you're probably the one who's crazy because everyone else completely agrees." Unfortunately, that person forgot who I am. Otherwise, I might have been impressed by his work.

In any case, there's nothing more dreadful than a being that believes it can feel something it can't actually feel. Especially these substances are so aggressive; in all seriousness, they approach you, knowing what they're thinking. Of course not, grinning broadly and banging your head against mine won't help either. Anyone who has something like that inside them is extremely dangerous to the only life I know here on Earth, in the universe. The true psyche, isn't it? It's meant to make life difficult. At your command, come here, animal. Tree, you flower in the territory.

Why am I writing all this to you? Because I know an incredibly large number of people who make a living from this, who even speak with almost pride about their own ailments, suffering, and pain. Like, "Now you must feel sorry for me, and you must help me, not the other way around." Especially when the suffering is self-inflicted anew each day. Complaining is one thing; it hardens you. Suffering is another; if you don't suffer, then at least your own pet, your own animal, will. You can feel it, it's almost impossible to prove. You just know it, you somehow see it, that this spirit is getting on your nerves, annoying you, disturbing you, even killing you. So much for medicine, for fertilizing. My plants are really big and strong. Not because I have pebbles in the pots, but because I've used fresh soil from the very beginning.

I trained as a carpenter and then started my career in the church. Of all places, it was the church that stole my voice. In the beginning, there was a lot of theater. A few lavalier microphones—not easy. Then a few visiting musicians who were really talented. Suddenly, the congregation understood sound. I tell you, sound has absolutely nothing to do with my career. What's said in lectures about hi-fi systems is utter garbage. The loudspeaker shouldn't have any sound, the mixing console shouldn't have any sound, and the engineer certainly doesn't mix any sound. That's the job of the conductor or the lead singer themselves. Well, this industry tore a hole in my heart, so that even today, when the wind blows, it goes right through that hole in my heart. Perhaps that's why people chose democracy. Because otherwise, words would have a completely different meaning.

Then I went freelance, and before I even had my first order, I'd spent a few years manufacturing pre-made cables. Meanwhile, people were getting their hair dyed, preparing to slap me on social services. There, where you're guaranteed to always have a "no" ready. There, where caregiving is just the beginning of a plague, there, where socialism thinks it's the sound itself before a single outlet has even been plugged in, where the authorities are already at the door, bringing the day's rations. Anything but you. Everything—TV, television, cell phone—everything in the world I already have, and you don't even know how to build one of those things. Since then, I've worked in IT. But I would never again provide or share information for anyone.

I do believe something is very wrong. I even believe you, even though you wrote it yourself, that humanity would actually prefer to live in its original state rather than here on Earth. Well, it's not like some might think, that all of this happens overnight. It took me years to learn a keyboard. If you don't understand that, try listening to me before someone else tries to break my fingers again. It's actually quite a different matter. We think we're used to seeing each other, yet not everyone manages to read a book that day. You see, even listening reminds us of taking things for granted, yet not everyone understands the difference between imagination and power. I think it's important to gain experience, and follow me, I know many people, but not many who can cause problems for others if they don't act in a certain way. Perhaps not only my two swallows at the window won't just migrate south much longer. Will leave completely to a completely different place. Their constant chattering was unbearable.

Perhaps one final word. A sound engineer—the word doesn't quite capture the essence, but it gets to the heart of the matter—who is too heavily involved in journalism, particularly with the program notes and/or the details of performances, is a bad sound engineer. To be clear, not an engineer, but a disc jockey. That would be like the date itself, a very specific frequency instead of day and night itself. Still not clear? Let's make it even clearer. Acoustics remain acoustics. No matter which frequencies or amplitudes you adjust, the acoustics remain the same. Only the energy carried through the space is either stronger or weaker. So, the acoustics you imagine beforehand, influenced by media and the surrounding landscape, would be an anechoic chamber. Only then could you convince them of the concept.