Monday 12 February 2024

Gekko Grundgesetz or Weiß Erlaubniselite (script draft for Sculptures)

 Gekko Grundgesetz or Weiß Erlaubniselite

A play for Entrepreneurial Children


Dear Taxidriver, 

I’m in the shallow base of this shower. I’ve been here for 45 minutes or so, I’ve likely had an epileptic fit, convulsing for a short while and hit my head. I can feel my scalded skin slowly rip away in translucent strips. We’ve had a faulty thermostat for weeks. I can see large amounts of my white gunk near a plug hole like chicken boiling from below. 

I’m dead now, I guess. I can feel I've bitten half my tongue, must have been when I smashed my head. The last I remember was my twitching hand, I could feel the weight of the shower like a concrete slab. I never told anyone about my severe epilepsy, I saw it as a weakness. So did my Papa, he said never let on. for whom life had such a bitter flavor, tasting mine, the first murky concentrate of my necessity, as I grew up tasting again and again, and busy with the aftertaste of such a strange future, you examined my sorrowful knowing. 

When I was a boy I had a fit in the garden near the cornflowers he was growing. My first grand mal in the cornflowers, you smiled so tenderly, mother. See, we do not love as the flowers do. I was put on antiepileptic drugs after, but they had made me agitated and I would intermittently take them to please Papa. Where his own little birth was already outlived. Lovingly he descended into older blood so tenderly, mother

Mixed in like vagueness in the faces of 

nichts mehr, wenn auch von der Bühne. 

O trees of life, when wintry? Another intern & one of the bank's vice presidents will find me in 2 hours. Bloomberg newswire reported that everyone already knew in all the offices from Canary Wharf to King Edward Street. It’s front page news.  

My skin would have likely scalded off my shoulders, neck, face and arms. I wonder what happens to my eyes. I just hope I can be recognisable, for Mumie & Papa. 

I’m sorry for having you waiting around. a memory,  once, everything, just one tingle. One tingle and no more. And we, too, once. Never again. But to have existed & so we press on and try to accomplish it, try to hold it in our simple hands, in our fuller glance and in our speechless heart.  

But I guess you do this often, ‘roundabout drivers’. Sitting like that…day in day out.

They were all sympathetic to the cause, mascots even.  

In the end they no longer need us, those youthfully dead, one gently outgrows the earth 

In a fog of steam Mohnfeld in Krefeld the dermis, found beneath the epidermis hair follicles, blood vessels, lymphatic vessels, sweat glands. The deeper subcutaneous tissue (hypodermis) is made of fat connective tissue, a barrier to water, invasion by microorganisms, mechanical and chemical trauma, and damage from UV light small proline-rich proteins and larger proteins like cystatin, desmoplakin, filaggrin. 

Oh and around this center the rose

Skin just tears away under this heat, it's really quite incredible if you think about it. To the other realm, oh, what can we take along?

Large strips just sliding off like slop. Drecks. As a boy I often used to ask myself if there really was a god who saw everything. And how he managed not to forget any of it, the motion of the clouds. 

But later, among the stars, what is the use in the sky, every individual’s gestures and footsteps, dreams . . . I said to myself that while it was impossible to imagine such a memory existing, it was even sadder and more desolating to think that it didn’t and that everything was forgotten.

Dead children wanted to come to you ... Oh gently, gently in the flat in Claredale House, a student dormitory 25 minutes by bus from the bank. With muscles and innocence.  

You would think I would not even need to be driven but it's part of the game. a hundred times daily 

We pay the taxi fee, it's like some kind of incentivising punishment meal. bound against the grave: sometimes during a brief rest a loving expression tries to form on your face it gets lost on your body 

you, my father, who often are anxious in my hope within me 

since I am dead. where there sparkles in the moonlight: the Spring of Joy

The dawning light breaks on the back of the taxi seat, the Modafinil, a global system that never sleeps. 

One student fell asleep half naked and locked themselves out until the warden came. 

They ever came back after that. with muscles and innocence. 

It’s one of life's real doors really closing. 

They call non-returners ‘whiters’ or they’ve done a ‘whitey’

Bank of America Merrill Lynch’s investment bank division, "forgetfulness of evil" like "nine to five" or "Monday to Friday" 

I had become highly competitive and ambitious from early on. Sometimes, I had a tendency to be overambitious, which resulted in severe injuries. (more about epilepsy) 

The starting salary for a first-year analyst at Merrill Lynch is £45,000 (about €54,000), plus a variable bonus, which is about £20,000 this year. In concrete terms, my primary goal consisted of the pursuit of continuous improvement and the desire to strive for excellence. much of an analyst's work at an investment bank consists in writing PowerPoint presentations, which the boss may or may not show to clients. 

The analyst, who is at the bottom of the hierarchy  of the open space office, compiles company profiles, researches numbers and gathers data on competitors. 

The starting salary for a first-year analyst at Merrill Lynch is £45,000 (about €54,000), plus a variable bonus, which is about £20,000 this year. 

My death is making its way from one BlackBerry to the next,  Slowly clogging. Like wet tissue. 

The dense grass and the foliage of a stunted elder sealed off all but a faint glow of the late afternoon sunlight, I remember when I was in Christian Democratic Union's youth organization (The Junge Union Deutschlands) the aftertaste of such a strange future, one morning the whole room was flooded, another boy had had an epileptic fit. There was CDU flyers everywhere in a layer of water, the whole flat was swimming in them. I saw him recently in his Otto Beisheim School of Management hoodie, rimless glasses, jeans and sneakers. He said: ‘We're not a homogeneous mass of people. We are all individuals here. It's always about limits. About playing out the relationship between the finite and the infinite....Not only the whole city, but the whole world shares in our decision. We are greater than just the two of us. We embody many. We occupy the square of the people and the whole square is full with persons who wish what we wish . . .Because one's bank account and one's friendships can now be managed through identical machinic operations and gestures,  who often are anxious in my hope within me since you are dead, and sacrifice your serenity, oceans of serenity such as the dead have, for my bit of destiny, am I not right

A lecture on capital market law at 8 a.m, 11am on FinTech, 2pm with the "Quietschies". Back at the desk at 8pm. Work never sleeps. At the counter in the Korova Bar, not far from a square called Burgplatz in Vallendar, we sat making up our rassoodocks what to do with our lives. Organising dinners with people from Credit Suisse, wearing suits & ties during internships now that's what "Quietschies" are really about. A brotherhood, a spirituality even. 

I really mean it when I say that the Quietschies was my life. We held networking dinners & events in a vaulted cellar where bankers and management consultants just talk shop.

Alcohol was served. The finest Mezcal. Supposedly that refines the taste.

It’s a blend of espadín and wild bicuixe.

Aged six months in a pile of goat shit.

Michoacan tradition. I don’t know anything about this, I’m only a young boy. 

a brief rest a loving expression  

Mumie, Mumie.

Black are the bushes.

But the heaps of dung

Stand in the pastures a yet richer black.

Each passing hour is younger than the last.