found this old posting on my buzznet while cleaning up the mess on the pc notebook:
monday, 15 march 2004 / berne
another perfect day on this side of paradise.
ecstasy is on one day having it all: work, sun, sex, sauna and sleep.
got up at 5 in the morning, the default value motivated by a meeting with "la pavoni" and a café au soya, something that sounds worse than it tastes. my morning coffee is one vice i refuse to give up. shower, zazen, and a deadline to meet in the service of the economy.
perfect! start the day doing what i like doing and get the work done before lunch. meet with " my banker." home for lunch and some office work. a meeting got moved from yesterday to today. while walking to my meeting and realizing that instead of my mobile i had put the digital camera in my pocket i was faced to having to turn on the camera to find out the time, and in a day like today, the first spring like day of the year, i could not have made a better mistake. a perfect view of the alps did present itself from the terrace of parliament, and i having some time to spare, had the perfect excuse to test the camera and its optics.
walking back from the sauna this evening there was a scene that somehow also belongs to this piece of paradise: the drug dealing downtown berne. a young woman with a face disfigured by lesions and looking rather pale and desperate, muttering to herself. she would have run right into me, had i not been walking alert. a few meters further down i see her again, this time trying to talk to a black man, pleading to him even, and he being rather cool and non reactive. this is a common scene in the streets of the swiss capital, a young white drug addict trying to get some stuff from a dealer. nothing special in the scene, it happens anywhere where there misery, suffering and fear, it happens in chicago, in los angeles, in new york, in kabul, in cairo. it happens. the drug addict is not always white, here he or she often is, and the dealer is not always black, here he or she often is. so you tell me who is slave to whom, and you tell me how we have gotten here?
yes. it was another perfect day on this side of paradise. on checking my email, i got signs of life from that one reality of mine wanting to be a dream.
"to think of you is to indulge in all the freedom in sensual existence. to think of you is to feel at peace and quietly adored in an ocean of existence and possibility, it is to be without need, serene, existing and not existing simultaneously. it is to taste loneliness fully, indulge in the ecstasy of solitude."
