Mittwoch, 23. Dezember 2009

Merry Christmas


Sonntag, 20. Dezember 2009

Merry XX-mas!

Must The Ox-Replaced Be?



Dear Peter,
all years again this stress in December, which me last nerve robs! I lie
formly in the last trains. And all years again take I it me quite firm fore:
The next time must all others be to the high-holy feast. The next time.
But when it then so wide is - knows the cuckoo why -, is all again the same.

A clear sightbar sign should yes be, when to end August or beginning of
September out seren sky the first dominostones, spekulatius, live-cakes,
cinnamon-stars, prints and pepper-nuts in the supermarkets to find are.
This forewarning should us to think give. But for usual beat we so what into the wind, instead on us to go and to say halt, stop: In what fora film play I here with? The summer is not quite foreby (between-question: Was there a summer this year?), then have the people such a forlanging after all these things, which to my time as child only to the Holy Evening in the plate lay. But the producers af all this stuff are only happy, they speak of harvest-bakeware. The season is yes so short, and after Christmas runs nothing more. All people have then namely tue nose full. This seasonal bakeware hangs them metre-long out the mouth out. Christmas, the feast of persents! This year must every groundschool-child a Handy have, therewith it always and overall through-say can: You, I am now here. Important is also the information, that the kid perhaps from the horse fallen is. But what, think you, are real original presents? What warms the heart real and let it higher beat? Yes, man should self what make, therewith the consume-terror not overhand takes. But there must you this infall not in the last minute have and to byplay quite early start, a salt- or a pepper-strewer self to potter. A propose "Potter": The four bands af Harry's neverending story are the big runners by the book-handlers heretolands. I wonder me freely, what our literature pope, the Reich-Ranicki, therefrom holds. I ask me this, why he newerthings says, that he outer-orderly from the telephone-book beghosted is. Very comic. Another present of original quality is perhaps the teawater-thermometre. For East- Frisians and other tea-philosophers comes it not only on the exquisite tea-sort on, but also on tue right temperature of the tea-water. Experts say: Black tea must tomindest 99°C hot be and no grade colder. When you this not inhold, can you all your widsom over broken orange ob first flush and second flush forget. How were it with a radio, which not battery or cable has? With a little crank make your own electric stream in hand-bedrive - like the inborn in Africa. When you such a fantastic radio buy, have you at the same time the energy-giants full in the grip.
You boycott them quasi. Christmas is also the high feast of eating and drinking. But what can you in these days with good conscience into the pouth put? After this BSE-scandal is me the Appetite an steaks, roulades, and goulash groundly offhand come. What remains there remaining, when you not total on the vegetarian trip go will? For the Christmas dinner can man to example a Polish goose into the eye grip. Man has yes so allerhand heard, but not, thas also the polsih geese mad are. Overhead is it highest railway, the traditional crib-figures in question to put. Mary and Joseph and the Child are o.k., ifwell this opensightly poorness us today mighty to the heart goes. But is it in the time-older of BSE correct, an ox beside the poor donkey to put? Must tue ox not through a goose, a pig or a hen replaced be? There comes also the question up, how long still this high-holy feat us real what says. The first Advent runs under business-people already
under the besigning "Christmas Kick-off". And Christmas is not more Christmas, but X-mas. Those people, who is not thick enough become can, wish you even: "Merry XX-mas!"
Your true Gisela

Freitag, 18. Dezember 2009

Dienstag, 15. Dezember 2009



Die Seele weint


von Annegret Kronenberg



Die Seele weint,

kann die gestutzten Flügel

nicht mehr schwingen,

zu groß der zugefügte Schmerz,

gefangen in einem ausgelaugten Leib,

ohne Liebe, ohne Trost.