Der Parkbank Pinkler Kapitel XXIX: die Dimension der Demenzen der Menschen

XXXIX.

 

In einer, sagen wir mal, nicht allzu fernen Zukunft, hier heute als vergangene Zeit dargestellt, als man damit anfing, Straßennamen nach Straßen zu benennen, genauer gesagt, umzubenennen, sowohl die Umbennener selbst und die, die von derselben von Abscheu überschauert, waren sich bewusst, worum es ging, sprich dem (eigenen) Arschloch hinterher eilen. Arschlochallez! Als hellseh' historiker darf ich solche Maßnahmen bürokratischen Umwege nennen. 

 

Ich kann dies und auch anderes tun. Wie, zum Beispiel, die Zukunft in die Vergangenheit verwandeln. Denn ich bin zwar kein Hellseher, aber ich sehe heller, auch wenn ich eventuell geisteskrank bin. 

 

Genau deshalb rede ich nicht nur von, sondern sehe ich vor mir auch die Stalinallee-Allee, ehem. Karl-Marx-Allee, ehem. Stalinallee, die nach der nach dem verrufenen Georgier benannten Allee umbenannt worden ist.

 

Ich leite an ihren, ähm, Anschluss weiter, die ehemalige Frankfurter Allee, die zum Glück, zumindest aus Gründen des Fortbestands, nach der gleichen Allee namens des selben Mannes aus Stahl benannt ist. Ohnehin, würde Polen glücklicher mit Krupp an der Oder nebenan?

 

Diese beiden Alleen sind noch für den Namen geeignet. Ich denke hier an die Stralauer zwischen Ehrenbergstraße und Elsenbrücke, wobei die Umbenennungsorgie eine gewisse Folgerichtigkeit enthält. Die heißt nun Stralauerallee-Straße.

 

Und das ist noch nicht alles. Stell dir das mal vor. Sie haben die Spree in Amazonas umbenannt. Im Bezug Bezos natürlich.

 

Zur Einheit (schon wieder): 

 

Die Spree strömte sich in Grenzen, Gebirgszüge sowieso. Doch letztere hat schon jene lang gehaltene Teilung in den Schatten gestellt, die hier an den Bänken der früheren verlief, im Alten Fritz' Hain.

Die Beute aus der Himmelswand gekratzt, ein Geschoss nach dem anderen, in die Luft, über diese einst gespaltene Stadt.

 

Eine Einheit an die andere, sich zu einem konkreten Tribut erhoben, an Höhenflüge, Schwingen der Begierde.

Triumphierend beherrscht, die Teilung vor den Bänken befestigt. Denn wenn so eine Kette stetig strömt, fließen die Früchte dem Siegreichen zu, einst gemeint zu den Massen hinunter...
 

...Moment. Sind die Fesseln mit einem Schlüssel versehen?

Apropos vorbei gelaufen: 

  

 

 

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xxxviii. << -- >> Kapitel ??

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To KD PhD

Honourable Dr D,

Dear. Welcome to the club, by which I imply credentials I don't share to ward off potential collectors of weakness should this dispatch fall into the wrong hands. No irony here; they never read past the first clause. Nor do I mean to suggest by way of sarcasm disrespect toward the value of your hard earned letters. Quite to the contrary, as I hope will shortly (or, anyway, not too longly) become clear.

For there are those who devalue such achievements with derision, invoking and inverting haughty hubris to curry favour amongst the commoners, much too common in today's climate, I'm afraid. As with virtue signalling, arrogance cuts both ways, it seems, if one can place it alongside resentment as back-to-back faces of a ruddy red cent. Hey, did I coin a phrase;-? The truly regrettable thing at its base is that those who don't know the joy don't know the joy. But enough of the Philistines.

I'm sure you made it through the gauntlet with high honours, though I'm unsure what it has to do with the volume with which one expresses one's arousal. At any rate, whether you reached the summit, or it was just so-so, or that one in between, you'll always be tops in my book. I frequently find subjects of your interest fascinating enough that they become forever committed to memory, speaking of magnetite.

And now I arrive at the less pleasurable point of this missive. Though I thank you here heartfelt and sincere for the invitation, I shan't be joining the festivities on the night. Do your people still say 'shan't'? I only realise now it eats at me a little that you who hail from your neck of the wood can adopt Americanisms with all the cred of the seemingly cool, whereas one of my ilk doing the reverse is what, to my projections at least, would be deemed by way of today's standardisation 'cringe'. Is there anything more cringeworthy than distilling an otherwise perfectly useful expression down to one syllable? It's efficient, I guess.

Anyway, as I know you're aware, I have my Allemanaphobia therapy session to attend, the forgo-ance of which would send me into a spiral of guilt from which recovery is formidable. Not that there's a dearth of guilt associable to an RSVP in lieu of being attendantly complimentary toward a friend I hold dear and whose friendship for which I would mourn to be unfit. Whatever happened to guilt for guilt's own sake and why does it have to dilute pleasures with pains? Not that this is a clash of polar proportions, but, to take that one symbolic example, whether the migratory raptor is repelled by magnetic north or flies its path along a mental map, me circular thoughts there-above do be webbed & spinning. Doo bee doo.

I am reminded of something I heard recently, and as recency bias would have it, I cannot recall whence (what with the way things are these days): There are a couple types of people (among many others I am sure): Those who fear public speaking above much else; and those for whom not being the one publicly speaking is similarly nerve-wracking. I do believe I have overcome the former to become a version of the latter only to then again default to whichever wields the threat of the moment: the wide-open space and/or its mass of peeps, or the blackhole of a claustrophized carton from within which no communal message will transmit. Research that, why don'tcha! We could make a play of it!

 

Forgive my wordly wandering, but what is my wont, when not merely a mask against emotional import, but a string of non sequutur with a view to a purpose? For you, inspire me so.

 

I commend you for your pursuits as well as congratulate you for this accomplishment, with an emphasis on my admiration for which exaggeration is an unknowable entity, and which I hope you can muster to receive in the same spirit, given you're not meeting it face-to-face (as in, like, literally (cf. all literal-like). If that's too twisted a way to put it: You're the best!
 

davidly
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         r

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'cep 'timber!'

Fruchtstr & Stalinallee 1960

Hover over Foto:

Straße der Pariser Kommune & Karl-Marx-Allee '25