Anybody Parents?

I don't think that I had is when be the family and children, because I have a lot of cases and sometimes is i get into trouble. My good friend from Omsk an has an 8 year old of son. His son is studying to school and learning a good. What is most interesting a father of good teaching to him English language and the most interesting of his son draws always of evil clowns and wrote in English to picture by "Let's kill to all the bloodthirsty clowns. " Pretty amazing isn't it? Although a lifestyle pater of himself is not surprising .

 

no, definitely not: your little intrigue worked well - and we had a really great afternoon, and you missed it!

it was really amazing, the old man took an ordinary newspaper page, cut a few thin wooden bars from a plank with a kitchen knife - a bit of glue, a length of rope - voila!
the girls were already jumping up and down, so he did the second as fast as the first and while we had coffee, he made the kites tails with rope and paper and told the girls the "grass trick" - to find out how the wind blows - and off we took...
cheering girls, the dog running from one to the other, dancing kites in the sky, and an old man smiling all the time:
what an idyll made out of scrap and a little glue... come on shakespeare, eat your heart out!

later some bluesbrothers former favorite aunt came by, she was a bit strange in the beginning but after i passed the "so, you're the one, i've heard of you..."-test and she got over the surprise of the triple reincarnation mystery (TRCM), she became really nice and found of the girls and me too - so she told me that her former favorite nephew always has been a stray and a bit strange in the head too...
and i had to agree while the old man was sighing deep... and for a second, a black sheep was visible at the horizont, but quickly hiding behind a cloud again...

finally:
quoting shakespeare won't help it, you got the wrong spook and a few more grudges to face...
and it's no spamming - it's education!
and frogs and toads are interesting, by any means more than any number of red army tanks!

and mayby someone tells a simple and decent girl what this nozin' aroun' -thing is about, i don't get it and so it isn't funny !

 

What I'm missing in this nice lil' middleclass idyll - I don't miss IT for a second - is this moment:
One freshly baked granddaughter asks: Can I please make my own kite?
(Or the youth brigade develops the idea to recoulour the white dog or build something strange right in the front garden - or they become cave girls again and take residence under the living room table, dragging all those accurately arranged sofa pillows around...)

Or Lil'Apple dares to take one of the girls less doliocephal friends with them on the next trip into the great empty desert of "they-are-not-like-us" and the old man just forgets to smile all the time... and fucking:
FORGETS HIS OWN CHILDHOOD AS AN UNWANTED FUGITIVE TOO!!!

Or Lil'Apple starts talking politics for whatever reason, maybe giving only a hint of her passionate commitment to the cause of the people here and there - and the old man starts feeling the need to defend his i-got-a-house-a-car-and-a-TV - and finally, after the word "terrorism" has fallen, there won't be that many invitations...
(Distant rumble: Thats where the black sheep became a stray... and vanished into the faaaar away!)

Amazing all those stories about the strangeness-in-the-doliocephal-head-straying-around, oh yes.
Too bad that they were mirrored by:

Oww Gawwd what are you doing again and it's against the law stop it before the neighbors notice and start talking you will get us all in trouble... ...and off the bluesbrother took

 

Nor I do, those times were hard & we were young - btw: Remarkable memory:

I only miss:
what have you done to your hair & wanna mess up your future?!

and I see the next idyll coming:


Gentlemen, last will and cigarettes! Goodbye, brave new world!

 

saaakrament no amoi, now we are really done for sure:
this PPSch-41 is a soviet baby made by Georgi Semjonowitsch Schpagin... and it became the bane of those ger-mans...

or:
wrong place, wrong time - and the next bad news:
the waste-land hasn't changed since then... but there were always those nicer places beyond the hills...
(no picture this time - the pleasure was too horrible!)

STOP THAT NOISE & WHAT HAVE WE DONE WRONG TO DESERVE THIS...
are still my personal favorites, guess I'm still traumatisized.

Conclusion - let's face it:
We ARE the people our parents always warned us about - da proof: Berlin, around 1984:
sorry, doesn't work, I guess there are too many runawaystraydefectorsfugitivtravelers on the pic - uploader can't make it
And my old man never liked them anyhow, 'cause they never got a car, or a color-TV, no proper job and they gave a shit about property and they were painting up the walls and had trouble with the cops and... and... and...

 

I'm 14 and the only Punk scene I'm active in is the one in my room when I listen to music, Haha. This summer I want to get more active and start going to shows but I don't think there are many around where I live. But I don't like the music of today and I also get bullied for being different by brainwashed people. But, it's cool cuz my friends like the same shit as me.

 

so, this time it's the almost complete veteran company who took the line, including the geriatric poetry squad and the red-army-fetish commando - and somewhere in the universe the final argument is already preparing to appear above the horizont, saying:
we were punx before youze woz a punk

okay, i surrender, not quite unconditionally, but i've to admit that there is a high probability that you are absolutely right - and i agree:
We ARE the people our parents always warned us about (at least we're trying hard...)
- and/BUT 1984 i was only a simple and decent baby - so how should i know?!

i grew up under different conditions and i guess i don't had to fight all the time for the simple right to become what i am without any regard to neighbors, the family reputation or school authorities - or and worst of all:
the middle class idyll.
(but i will have to think about that on my own some more time, so i leave it here)

my sister and i had lots of pressure from my mom and her kind, but we had "those other people" too:
those she always warned us of.
and it was exactly this kind of people who kept us alive and sheltered us and i have to admit that we were more privileged and had opportunities not many others had - and this comfortable little soap bubble kept me simple and decent and quite a bit blue-eyed... and i never really fought my mum until i was an adult too - and i never found out anything really important by myself until then.

out of a completely different aspect i had a long discussion with the WWMCBA's doctrin control comittee, took quite a booting, but now i think that i got some kinda hint what it's all about that wrong place/wrong time/raising kids/parental authority/education/anarcho-punk-living and why-does-the-krümelmonster-doesn't-work-but-Roland - right here, in the suiciety we're in, while trying all the time something completely different:
some real life and not the wasteland idyll.
(sounds so simple, but i've to think much more about that too... and maybe i'll get an appointment with the wise runaway black sheep too?!)

and this includes freshly baked grandpas - which i will approach with a little more caution in future - in case they can stand me and the terrific trinity and the idiosyncrasy-that-has-to-be-accepted because it comes with the cute package too.

 

cute package?

 

Yesyesyes - that's THEM!!! - the gang of four!
... as I mentioned earlier: TERRORISM! :
Red Army Fetish Commando - who's that...?!

Thank punk that I got the OTHER cute package, the one with the WARNING! label:
- a terrific youth brigade
- their favorite Applez
- some of the favorite Applez own soap bubblez
- lots of idiosyncrasy
(had to use the ol'dic to find out what it is - EIGENHEIT!)
- okay, the middle class thingie might be skipped, nothin's perfect, I just send it back to where it came from.

And the bluesbrother got a call from an old man this afternoon - and 'cause the first question was
"are you in trouble again...?"
- the bluesbrother took a deep breath, and thought of ol'times past (the geriatric poet was already grinning grimly) - but everybody kept being friendly until the very end and the final result is something quite relaxed:

No father and son bubbles in the next time, other bubbles as long as my favorite freshly baked daughter-in-law sees fit - and a bit less ol'time legends of the black sheep in the future:
'cuz the black sheep was a punk when yours was just a decent baby...

 

... while they took off into the sunset:


And because of the ceasefire i don't post this:


Thought of today:
Beware of the trojan bubblez/applez!

 

Gobblez - ceasefire means C E A S E F I R E - isn't that easy?

(And if you start searching for your tobacco package - look for hidden treasures behind the flowerz pots on the kitchen window-sill - and contemplate a bit about the price of being cheeky wiv da girls...)

They were really outraged... and I had to convince them that the trash can isn't a funny place for revenge.

 

oh dear - and i thought of the band: http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gang_of_Four

BUT: See what you will become if you continue your living in vice and left deviation?
(and i remember the bejing opera show trial show from some moscow-communist documentaries i watched as a child - it's H O R R I B L E! - as i told you before - when in the 百花运动 name, will you get wise?

so i take a bow - and skip the arrows - because of the ceasefire, and i contemplate for a second the wisdom and patience, the untamed wit and everything else that came shuffling from out of the desert with the one & only who was a punk -
before i even had the chance to break out of that fucking play pen...

time to offer the youth brigade some support in your education, i guess - i said: NOT QUITE unconditionally:
and i know obdurateness by the smell...

 

This one has captured my poor old heart, and if I had known:


I honestly would have done it.

 

almost 25 years after i managed myself to escape?
(managed to get my head between the bars and got stuck - forcing my captors to saw through one and to open a nice escape from this gruesome gaol - and because i almost killed myself in this early determined act of liberation, i was never been imprisoned this way again.

our girls never had to suffer this kind of gulag and i don't dare to think of the details of a possible mass rebellion in case we would have tried to...
BUT:
to escape the easter holidays most of the local rebels took off for some camping in the area Vassil grew up - a nature conservation area along a river valley still suffering under "cultivation" - and again we witnessed the trinity of city girls changing into bold conquerors of the unknown and eager explorers of the wilderness, almost three days of happy exitement and fun - too bad that we had to return so soon, it was so amazing just to watch them playing and fooling around with everything within reach, making discovery after discovery during the day and paint on large stones with charcoal in the evening...
great education i think, maybe we should skip the city kindergarden and invent something like a forest school?

 

Supported by a bunch of their favorite court astrologers our girls started to unveil the mysteries of mathematix and time today and declared to be gracing our humble beings since
30 months,
or 133 weeks,
or 935 days,
or 22447 hours,
or 1346877 minutes,
or 80812600 seconds
(ca. 16.00 MET) - and promised to continue to do so as long as we behave well...

 

Day 936, 9.02 in the morning:
They found out about the secret Dick Dale & His Del-Tones cd - so it's "Misirlou" on repeat and the dancing is serious - guess we're in trouble and will have surfer girls from now on!

 

(Our) girls don't surf!
Actually we're in Poland to support a starting Collective with some woodworking and gardenworx and the youth brigade develops some fine and very eager pioneer aspect, hammering and using a sickle while singing polish folk songs. Or interpreting for their less language-gifted and somehow proud dad...