Kid Gloves...

privé

...so it began also now with small, pale yellowishly playing
spotlights in my vision, accompanied by rushing, rumbling
sounds, a sizzling like from lighted fuse, followed by small
areas of colours that eat themselves powderily into the vision
and then vanished. Such a pale light as it appeared often then
I had seen at the end of the past year on paths in the Sea-Alps;
there it shone out of a waterdrop under limestone, pale as
a midget’s piss. It glowed like a diode, if not in such electro-
magnetic frequency but like a kind of moonlight out of the earth.
The animals are always so especially fine, I could find, where
in their place I find myself before such gems. Here but - the
fire burnt in the most solemn colours, a red that deep, what good
your eyes; a blue likewise: flames in blood orange, fine grey
ashes in filigrane on the coal black sides of the wood. Embers
then fading away to powder-pink and amitabha-red, colours
in which there is no time anymore. First of all the beginning
high set me right - some news had to be set in order with the
picture ahead of me; a corridor goes there, 4 rows of poplars
across, slanted through the hill cut, 200-250 m far perhaps,
behind that green acres and the height of the hill above.
Some odd spirits in the orcus let themselves be neutralized.
About half hours I sat there at ease from the outer world,
with effects of the Atropin not as strong as later on. At some
orientations of the eyes however there came these visions
of a hurrying metal sieve - perhaps because the brew had
been filtered through a such - and voices, more often those
of relatives in banning precision, out of the surfaces at the
base of the back head bones. At some time I had stood up
and walked about, reeling like heavily drunk. I but perceived
this as funny. A faint feeling of humans about that could have
seen me gathering wood, so I let myself rather stumble than reel.

...”be carried away”, several pounding blows in the ground
that apruptly moved the soil under me (on the following day
that appeared more likely to be resonance waves in the earth
from the railway, 3 kilometers far away)...

...Tantalos on the Blocksberg - my throat was anyway bone dry
and anytime now as I wanted to drink, my mouth couldn’t even
touch the wet in the container - my hands holding the glass just
wouldn’t give me...

...anyway - in the middle of the night I was awakened by something.
Looked out of the tent door to the chute and there they were in the
weat and over in the barley(?)field. But many, more than there ever
had been gathered. I watched more tightly, if possible - then the
picture changed. Some of the roes’ body shadows transformed
into human shapes quietly rolling from one foot to the other.
Balancing figures. Ghostly beautiful. I should mean the mirror
combine, two mirrors deriving from China that reflect slatedly one into
the other over there at the chute, before the roes’ bushes, half open
to the west, and they mostly shine thus into each other as to let
someone look into to see a flight of serial reflections for some yokes,
serves them roe now to obtain a multiplication of their appearances
in the illusionary heaven of the early morning. A dream had added:
you perceive it and you can’t grasp although you see everything
but precisely. The beings moved about quite similarly enough
to the roe but untypically; besides, sometimes head shapes like thick
buffalo calves, arousing an elementary abackness. In all these
metamorphoses I could easily discern the bodies of the Kandahars;
some, when I looked more precisely, gave way in my sight and
the fabulous creature over there transformed the so vacated place,
filled in another spirit into the body of illusions in order to clarify
its play. The roes’ spirits playing over there may have used the parallel
mirrors as a kind of address book flipping through which they called
forth dozens of avatars. The night scene was terrifically eerie; later on
I was not able to say in any way whether I was awake or dreaming.
It was so perfect that not a trace of thought remained before such a
spell.

Once again, as resumed two days later: one of the roe came shortly
in the early afternoon out of the door that I have sawed out of their
bushes; it browsed a bit, showed a silvery coat, looked over here
for several times, it swerved a bit and thus played, over 300 meters
hereways, its girly fragrance to me, light and aromatic like rose
water, if not in the timbre of a such. That gave me to remark and
to think. It dived out of sight again. It’s beautifully fresh,
and I always think: matt pink...
Motto of this report: this year the stag comes on Walpurgis.
I have seen more red deer claws. He’s come early. As his visiting
card he has brought along a clown: as certain as the dogs have
to shit down in the alley for their humans, a human has defecated
down right opposite of the tent, with a shot like normally only
especially spoiled and trained dogs do, against the root of a tree.
That’s the man-dog that the stag lets run around freely here...
On Walpurgis (however) it just was too silly. I had nearly not been
sleeping, enough tea, little provisions that might yet do for two days.
Walpurgis is just once a year. For once, I wanted to know that.
Menu: 2 stems of fly agaric from the region of Mayen; 80 centimetres
of Belladonna stalks and half a root, the mildewed side of which
had to be cut off. Both brought to boil in a tin can full of water.
The mushroom pieces (split) I soon removed and ate them.
But that is tasty! Which edible mushroom then has such an aroma
so delicately manifold! After 20 minutes I mixed the decoction
with Mate tea and drank it. In addition two tea spoons of nutmeg.
The mushroom essentially said again and again: great. Gave the
impression of the meant to be noticed through the mucous membrane
nerves, and I writhed in pleasant recognition: oh yeah, oh yeah,
such I haven’t got into my breath since my child days.
The Belladonna however was much stronger than that - half of it
would have sufficed.
The temporal succession of events is not clear anymore.
The great virtuality show of the roe deer yet went until daybreak;
then I lay down to sleep because I did not want to see how at day
not even the Kandahars weren’t there and all but illusion, but!
At some odd time in the middle of the night I must have stood up,
or I have dreamt it in a realism so that, yet, I could not differenciate
between dream and awakeness. That wandered about here -
down at the brook’s bank, 500 meters away, I have found a
footstep in the border, my own, naked foot + toes. I mean to have
gone barefooted over the pebble path down there, I got lost,
didn’t see anymore where this could be. The embankment was
much too high - that could not be where I had to mean where
I was. Also, I could not differenciate anymore between North and
South, but I had a voice in me that told me: there and there your
tent has to be. I was so weak from the Atropin - I could yet reel.
I got the feeling that my sense of balance had risen from my body
under my scullcap. This itself tended to move like in swings and
the body had to find the movements fitting to it, was not autonomic
(Siberian reel). At places in the underbrush, don’t know what
I had to find there, I therefore more often lost balance and fell
into twigs and nettles. I was thirsty like never in my life, the
whole throat one dry, very aromatic mucus. Later in the tent
I meant to have found something edible, a peanut perhaps,
but it probably was a piece of charcoal that I bit into parts and
choked down. It must have been a dream. At one place I felt
and saw two or three figures, young barbarians that stood
sideways up in the bushes. I had an awful problem: I could not
fetch objects in reality any more. How ever I tried: most of the
objects that I tried to get with my left hand were not reachable,
like empty light. At something I wanted to fetch a tool in order
to fix something with it, missed again, discovered there a face,
that of the Saturnian of the gothic town who glanced up at me
from the left side and upwards - his like knows that. I should not
call this face evil but saturnian, kynical in a way. Here up at the
tent that I refound like something completely strange and where
in the obstructed back corner I stumbled that I fell, during the
roe deer show an elder couple appeared, even such silent breads,
Saturnians. The woman placed herself nearer to me so that
I sensed the insulation of her coat and her body’s warmth
in the air, and her husband took a bit of a distance. Then again
the shadow of a young bloke leapt by that held himself at the
hawthorn nearest to the tent entrance as if he hid and lurked
downward on the path. About that I didn’t care, did further tries
of fetching and missing - tactile and optical data didn’t fit together
anyway, but now I know how the cow manages to make her nose
invisible in my sight. Strange world. Out but in the width
before the tent there played roe, hares, crow and those smaller
swarm birds that at other times flew such precise theatre, fine,
well breathing symphonicity. As it got late at least 30 - 40 shadows
stood in the hillside, moved precisely as I know it from the Kandahars.
There are traces not few but so many not. At the border of the
weat acre, 10 meters before the tent, there finds itself a small
pointed roe’s trace. So far it may go the Drude’s foot of the roe -
inside of it they play me their orcus instead of that I myself placed
myself in one (Drude’s foot). At the fence of branches over there
where I had rested under the bridge, quite unintentionally a
pentagram could be seen, and there had not been little ado then.
The appearances in the near here therefore never came nearer
than but the roe’s foot tip. Once I meant to see a roe deer or two
but they had such improbably thick heads, like buffalo babies.
Sometimes it also seemed to be a pheasant or a hare. Two such
took place beyond a near plot like at two sides of a playing table,
and promptly they transformed again into human shapes,
cape-clad like the hunters - but much smaller. In the acre across
the animal shape seemed ALWAYS to transform into something
else as soon as I watched. (The roe let mean the double mirror
be an ontological caleidoscope. Plausible enough. The videodisc
also hung there that I placed because of its irisations did not
give little to the colour play of the night show.) When then an animal
trotted along the hill’s height it appeared once as a camel, then
as a great Dane dog, as a calf and so on, and never I could find
something known. Others that I looked at transformed into human
shadows, and these most often turned around and had a pocket
light in their hand. I wondered about these human figures but I
had no fright. Anyway I was nearly completely out of myself.
When going about I even didn’t have the ground in sight.
To want to see and feel it was nearly as illusory as the fetching.
Once a whole bed of stinging nettles vanished before me and
let see the empty ground beneath.
Over there, with progressing night, something came to a point.
The roe deer had become quite many, about 30 - 40, unto that
a giant swarm of crow, at least 500, and the other bird swarm.
These flew in very peculiar formations and between them a bird
at least as huge as a condor appeared - with four wings of like
size. Ah, you’re the dragonfly here, I greeted it when first seeing it.
I had not the least grounds in me to doubt what I saw or to be
afraid. Grandly this giant animal moved through the sky with its
wings greater than those of the heron. The strange, pale yellow
light came dotwise out of numerous sources, but before all from
the roes’ eyes. Once a whole row of these lights looked here,
that was beautiful! In addition, faint but strong colours shone
from but all sorts of sources. Two, three times I saw bright light
of flames from the corner of my eye through holes in the tent’s
tarpaulin, like at a foot’s distance in the open beyond, but this
radiated no heat, I just registered it with cool reflex, extremely
clear, and in the next moment it was gone. Nothing, of course
that I saw there hadn’t been carried along to me in human or
animals’ gestures, including a sudden, tried arson at the hem
of my tent. Everthing on the hill became much more decided,
though. The crow flew true masterpieces of swarm navigation.
The smaller ones flew clinching a fist - in form of a swarm. The roe
began to dash about and back over the height in groups of at least
20, one dashed ahead, the others followed behind. To the right,
the edge of the hollow, to the left, to the roes’ bushes, to & fro,
to & fro, like with the gladiators. Then four such troups followed
each other (to the right) and behind them a human figure seemed
to accompany them on a riding animal or a sledge, in figure and
grooming not unlikely to Henry the Eighth. Then I thought now
at least a batalion of roe deer had gone over. In the chute side
although not less animals seemed to be than before. The crow now
had the frequency (someone behind the hill had fired sylvester rockets),
they flew high, many, to the right where the hollow’s edge is. They
unfolded and spreaded flatly like a banner, and alone through the
interference of their wing oscillations a colourful pattern developed
of not bright, fast, sensual colours, white, black, green red blue,
pale yellow, colours of things in my childhood. The whole crow canvas,
10-15 meters high, 10 meters in long, thus filled with a colourful
mosaique. Aw, that’s beautiful, I said. The four-winged animal flew
about, the crow returned, flew again, again put up their Tangka,
and greater even, more beautiful, more even the pattern of the
colour areas displayed in it, up to the point where the crow themselves
became invisible. So, everything seemed to be going on that should
be found on the Blocksberg. And finally when the banner had been
well seen a trace of omnipotence was added. No opera without
deus ex: in a movement of my eye directed by the animals I saw
there where the eye normally doesn’t see, high steeply in the
south east, directly over the place, the UFO, as usual only on a
moment`s skin of the eye, a giant, friendly seeming thing (perhaps
the four-winged creature was from there), just so (as the flamelights)
that I knew after to have seen it clearly and distinctly. It was like round,
something like three-storeyed (the animal spirit could have easily
seen it from the television towers of Cologne or Düsseldorf). For here
it marked the lodge of the steep star space in the atmosphere of this
planet. The UFO consisted of an upper and lower part, flat, conically
formed pieces, in between a tie band, and round about these 3 storeys
rows of lightning clear, star white lights. These lights alone impressed
themselves before the picture of the star heaven (that seemed to be
solemnly near), and therefrom it became much more visible to the
intellect than the shady doings at the ground. The roes’ avatars
didn’t tire. Pheasants of course were about all night. I looked -
it seemd to be getting light. Always when a good star’s night
becomes late-early, anyway there comes this white breathing
brightness into the soul from outer space, the most godly moment
before the first faint premonition of daybreak becomes aware.
In the eastern sky the not too precise, late half moon stood, just
a piece afar (four or six moon diameters) to the left of Jupiter which
I had first seen again to rise not before long, three weeks ago.
Brilliantly, straightaway loud the light of the planet. I looked again:
is it perhaps an aeroplane like they deceive here often?
No, the planet. It shone so brightly into my senses like the lights
of the UFO before, similar to a dragon’s mouth full of diamond teeth,
yelling and roaring with it.
Then I finally laid down to sleep.

Translation from the German by the author

All sit well?!

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