I remember dreaming I was stumbling through the darkness, wondering about all the broken light switches I kept pushing unsuccessfully. Eventually I woke up, about 30 minutes past midnight German time, and sat there in silence. Eyes swollen, pale hairy legs dangling out of a pair of old shorts (I guess at least I had undressed this time). There were some hints of an emergent panic attack. Whatever it was, I didn't feel like indulging it, so going back to sleep wasn't an option. Time to look for an distraction. So I sat down in front of my computer, the one I don't even bother shutting down anymore.

There's a subculture of weird somewhat anachronistic chatrooms. Not talking about fancy apps either, but a decentralised network of international night owls, weirdos, misfits , aging drunks and heroin addicts gathering in forgotten gaps and spaces. A bit like the digital equivalent of a lost dive bar, still inhabited by a few loyal patrons. Yo! What's up!? Not much, just enjoying the weekend. Watching Master and Commander, having a beer. Looks like Trump got assassinated? What? Yeah. No way!?

Someone links some grainy footage of Trump turning his head and grabbing his ear, followed by him being rushed by bunch of Secret Service agents. End of the video. What the fuck!? I visit Youtube and start listening to Born in the USA on a loop. A young Bruce Springsteem leaps into the air strumming an electric guitar mid flight, in front of a giant American flag. I start smiling, I'm feeling it. What exactly? I was feeling alive, for some strange reason.

Don't get me wrong, I don't like violence, that wasn't it. It's hard to describe really, but it's like... all the monoton bullshit just faded away and instead of just.. that... for a moment life became something else. I figure usually we're all running away from this sort of stuff, rightly so, but there's also a strange alure to it. A bit like a manic Herbert Grönemyer in Das Boot standing in the middle of a storm laughing at angry winds splashing waves into his face. He must have lost his mind, one of the other characters barks. True. I assume like in the movie the feeling of euphoria will fade eventually, but for now it just feels like... maybe a hint of what life should feel like. Not this or that, us desperately clinging to life in a way that prohibits us from seeing it for what it actually is. But again, maybe just crazy talk.

More info was pouring in, along with pictures of a bloodied Trump raising his fist in triumph, being surrounded by a bunch Secret Service agents. The crowd behind the former president scattered and revealed something what looked like a smear of blood. One of the newsstreams was interviewing a doctor, who claimed one of the attendees in the crowd had died and there being brain matter scattered across the floor. Dang! This was getting big. Later some of the rightwing commentators would argue Jesus himself diverted the bullet, but I wonder what the dead guy would think about that. Lots of prayer, a bit of fake crying, and more prayer.