I don’t draw enough and blame my laptop. Trains used to be the transition between computers, where work could be prepared and considered. It feels like I don’t consider enough anymore, I just create. February resolution: draw more.

My morning walk takes me past the Federal Bureau Of Internal Affairs, Immigration department. 5 Guys were dragging hundreds of small wooden boxes filled with index cards to a container. Are they making room for that fancy new invention, the “computer”?

As the woman fiddles with my messy Swiss paper money, I see her colleague unpack the new supply. 10-cm-stacks, notes of 20 euro, must have been about 20000 euro. How does he perceive money, this man who unwraps fortunes before 10 AM?

I hate the mobile office. I hate dragging around my large headphones as much as I hate the tinny sound of my little in-ear earbuds. I hate having to miss my selection of tea as much as I hate dragging around tea on a daily basis. I want a desk to stick funny postcards to, this desk shall be called My Desk and never ever shall I arrive at work to see someone else in front of My Desk staring at my funny postcards wandering who could find such a thing funny. I want to stuff the fridge with fruit, I want to leave bread at work. I just want a little home at work. I am a relic working at a digital media company. Somebody shoot me.

My dad owned lots of records. There’s a picture of 4-years-old me on the big cough, huge headphones on. Probably The Four Seasons or Sgt. Pepper, the only 2 I remember listening to. Yes, I envy kids who inherited a huge musical background. I could have plundered the classical section, but few 16-year-olds (apart from those chicks in Ghost World) are actively on the hunt for Brahms.

As I never developed a feel for records, I can’t confirm that CD’s and MP3′s killed cover art. I jumped in at CD’s, who all had a specific place in my shelve. I loved to slide my hand over the sides, or 2-finger flip the covers, to see the front. They haven’t left the boxes since I moved. But I must say the flipping-feel is back since Apple introduced cover art flipping in iTunes. I’m adding cover art to my 680 albums. Random playback doesn’t lay in my character, I add intent to randomness. Perhaps the Ghost World girls and me have more in common than I thought.

I survived the company ski trip to Grindelwald, or as you may judge by the picture, we survived one-another. I don’t grasp how people find the time to get on the tracks, there’s soo much partying and boozing to do!

It feels weird hearing about an ex giving birth. Last week was my first. None have married so far. Have people stopped committing and reproducing?

I’m drifting off. Do you know what I mean, about the weirdness? I don’t think it has something to do with the child being a result of sex between your ex-lover and somebody else. Perhaps a child is the ultimate sign of a couple’s future, a future you once saw with that person.

Mind you: I’m free of regret or remorse in this particular case. Just weirdness. Be well, child.