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Nevermind Rain Drops in Colour Apr 26, 2008

Posted by herraheri in Herra the Heri, M. L'éléphant, Mr. J. Squirrel Phd..
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Yes. I considered it.
considered it, to be good, to be full of sparkling
thought of glowing ice during the day
and singing happy tunes at night.

Yes. Whatever it ist.
Anywhere. I dared to think of it as miracle
friendly and exciting but never to hurtful
shanty at clouds pouring concrete

Nevermind rain drops in colour.
Yes. But care for the changes they imply.
Run for inspiration that is not only covered
by mere sonnets and skilful pentameters

Yes. Coffee is steaming, while green is dampling in it
the window is open
singing sweeps away the murmuring rain.
What remains is colour.

Spin a Wheel for Creativity Apr 22, 2008

Posted by herraheri in Herra the Heri, M. L'éléphant, Mr. J. Squirrel Phd..
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Plug in. Imagine yourself in a tiny little room. Not to small – there will be enough space for a few instruments, some people and something to drink. And a drumkit. It might be a little loud if a band played in the room. But for now there will be no band playing. There will be nothing more than reading. Calm reading. Slowly turning the pages following the story of Nabokov’s Lolita or maybe even the adventures of Oedipa Maas in Pynchon’s Crying of Lot 49. Nothing but calm reading. AHHHH.

Plug out. Turn on. How did those people manage to enter the room. Yes! It’s the ill-famed Herra Héri Orchestra, packed with instruments, playing as if they dared to give noise a new definition. But somehow you like it. Vibe. And suddenly, a squirrel comes out of a bottle of vodka and whispers into your ear: Eat a tune, and follow it carefully. Starlight and forrest multiplied by peas with six electrons on their premium gas atoms. Watch for the sun. Care for positron and Gauss with his equations. Never mind the harmony. Silence. You leave the room – enter the wood – a coocoo is blowing his tune. You take out your wallet and shake it. Fortune.

γειά σου, malaka! Apr 22, 2008

Posted by herraheri in Herra the Heri, Sentimental journeys.
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Yes, rain sucks. Is life sucking as much as rain? The answer is no. Plenty of great stuff is happening in the moment: Drinking raki with Greek people who don’t understand a word at half ten in the morning; having baths in the chilly Mediterrean Sea; paying seven freaking euros for 0,5 litres of wack Heineken beer in a pub in Athens; stopping to sleep; tagging loads of fresh stones with herra héri-lines; playing theatre and getting drunk at the same time (people were actually paying money to see these memorable scenes)… And yes, believe it or not: The ridiculously genious Herra Héri Orchestra had a promising rehearsal last weekend. Chia! Who knows, if the transcendent beavergod Eyvindur is sympathetic with our enterprise, the world will see a joint of generations, an event that will blast everything that has ever been into crying pieces: a HHO-Gig. Four tracks, well that sounds like 12 minutes you will never forget.

Speaking of four tracks: Despite the fact that our new wicked tune Reality? Where did you get that from? is actually not yet perfectly finished, I think today’s a good day to share this pearl with you. So, take the risk and dip into the marvellous world of herra madness:

Reality? Where did you get that from?!

Well, I will let you go into the gleaming night with some nice herra impressions.


Welcome, Welcome Home! Apr 12, 2008

Posted by herraheri in M. L'éléphant, Sentimental journeys.
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I bet it never came to your mind that at home is a little fire burning, heating up beans and meat to warm your stomach while happy birds sing and chant to praise your presence. Yes. Sometimes it is hard to think about better times. Hours lacking the stitching pain, the sour depression, the bitter-sweetness of melancholy tears and desperate nostalgia. – Would it be, won’t it be, it’s getting worse, no remorse, please. Solitude, my friend, is a faithful friend.

Fish, by the way, are not capable of feeling something like melancholy. But as they cannot blink, they will be hardly able to ackknowledge something with an ironic augenzwinkern, to express something comparable to vitality, something Fallstaffian.

Whatever, back to happy birds singing the praise of home: Home sweet home. Welcome says the fire burning and cracking wood, welcome home my friend. My burning heart is passionately happy to see you here. Want some beans? You see…