Post tilted: The Cover of a Kids book I am working on:

kinda wrong, but... it gets better.

Post Titled: Something like a PfandflaschenPhenomenon

Intro: I took a bag of empty bottles to the grocery store, popped them in one by one into an automat (in this case a large red robot) and got a receipt which I took to the cashier and received 5 euro and 7 cents back, and thought "Holy sh*t- no wonder all those old people go all over town collecting bottles, its actually lucrative!" It is true, the teenagers go out at night in little groups with their bier and cola and whatnot, setting down bottles in the subway stations and sidewalks all over town and the elderly are right there behing them collecting the bottles as they go, then returning them for cash. These bottles are then returned to the factories, washed and refilled with bier, cola, water, limo, etc. Genius. Much more direct than recycling, gell? "Gell" is a pfalzisch word I re-learned this weekend, it is comparable to the Canadian "aye?"

Wald and Erika and Volker in Katzenbach, old stomping ground.
Pfältzisch continues to elude me. We just spent three lovely days in Hornbach (southwest Pfalz approx 15 km form the french border) at Nadine's monther/grandmothers house on the occasion of ther Oma's 80 birhtday. The strange thing I suppose I didn't prepare myself for was that everyone was speaking Pfälzish (a strong local dialect) which is just barely german, so whereas here in Berlin I can understand 8-9 words out of 10 spoken, with pfälzisch I can only understand 2-3, very very frustrating. But overall, the trip was nice. We flew directly from Berlin Schoenfeld to Zweibruecken (where Nadine was born) An old military base has been converted into a - well, everything, an airport, Eisstadion (ice rink where both Nadine and I had ice skated in out early teens) and clubs, resteraunts, offices, etc.

Post Subtitled: Better living through simplicity.

Much like the Pfandflaschen deal, I was so impressed by the way Nadine's family and the Schroers live. The 'Pfalz', (a.k.a the german state of Rheinland Pfalz) where my family was living from 1993-2005 is so nice in its simplicity. Sure, there are problems, sure there are the usual run-of-the-mill societal ailments: unemployment, alcoholism, boredom and lust for material goods but in all these little houses nestled in all these little vallies between the green hills and farmer's fields there are people living very simply, and I love that. I don't think I can even really describe it- but, for example, the refrigerators are tiny, so Nadine's Oma puts the cakes out on the balcony where it is naturally cool. So much is conserved, renovated, and kept-up rather than disposed of it is almost brilliant. Simple, economic heating units, and hot water that is only used when absolutely necessary (because it has to be turned on or plugged in).

I am back in Berlin , tired at midnight and listeing to iTunes on random and Michael Vermillion's "Seven Up has lost her tongue" has just come on... I'm not sure but to me this always reminds me of that game we would play in elemantary school just hours before we were released on holiday break, when everyone would put their head down and then you would have to guess who tapped you... which I always thought was a very sly game because I'd always tap the girls I had crushes on... I think that WAS the game actually... one of those boy-girl games...

Post Titled: work. (or lack thereof)
I called Robert, a boyfriend of a friend of an employer of Nadine to ask him how he'd kept afloat legally in Berlin for so long. Turns out he was working at the time but asked me to call him later in the evening to talk. Instead he calls me back saying "Uh, you have some time to work tonight" "Oh, hell yea" and I met him to go to a super-richie-posh health spa and fitness club and change the lighting scheme in a room the'd recently renovated. This was a bit tricky due to the flat translucent installations on the ceiling- but after a few hours we'd finished, returned to the Werkstatt to drop off the bulbs, ladder, van adn went out to the resteraunt he works. When it closed we went to the smalleset bar Iäve ever been to, appropriately called MINIBAR, the place wasn't much bigger than our kitchen. We talked until 3am basically... I'm not sure if I can do the conversation justice, but he was very honest: "You gotta learn German, REALLY learn it so that it is perfect, because this town if full of stupid f***ing Americans and Australians and Brits who show up here and just float along´, never learning the language or talking part in the culture in a real way-" (he is allowed to say this because his German is basically flawless, just a trace of an accent but thatäs it, he speaks it like any other 26-year-old german guy) All the while Iäm having flashbacks of my teenage years here, when there were people who did and people who did not speak German,... this is all much to long and complicated to blog about...
which brings me to the fact that he didn't know what a blog was... or craigslist... which is something I've encountered more than once here...
ok, gotta get outta here adn try to insulate the front door a bit more... it's chilly and the wind just moves right through the gaps... canät wait to see if we get a place which needs to be, well, finished... a lot of apartments here are rented unfinished... Altbau... like, no bathroom or kitchen... nuts.

Post titled: der Knüller
Nadine and I saw "Scoop" (der Knüller) last night which was interesting to see Woody Allen speaking German, I guess they use the same guy to dub his voice every time so at least it is consistant.

Two good links from Mary:
ONE and
augmented by this: TWO

Mom had a good suggestion: don't bother looking for German-language-only jobs (my german just isn't there yet.)

Post Titled: THIS IS POST #200! (Shouldn't I be pulling over to the side of the road, getting out, jumping-screaming like in the commercials?)

Ah, but no, rather this is another pre-dawn session. Usally I'd be working on a short story but... instead I am attepmting to pour some substance into the internet.

Yesterday was different. A difficult morning became a strange and lovely afternoon when we rode the train out to the old east in search of a sea, but there were only damp gray nature preserves to be found... and a small cute town where everything was either nice or run-rown... which is the former east in a nutshell, isn't it? The train ride itself was quite 'Ostalgic' what with the abandoned buildings, gradditi'd old rundown factories and large expanses of compacted-living urban WHAT? Urban what: I don't know what to call it, the 6-story compact red high rises or East Germany's Sputnik-version-of-the-Future version of architecture...

LAter Ilya invited us to a friends for what I think was his going away get-together. THis is actually quite sad because although I've only known the guy for a couple of days he struck me as being someone I'd've liked to really get to know, The guy is seriously charming and genuine as hell- but now he's headed back to Sydney, scheisse. Helen, the hostess was really delightful and also an author so I once again found myself in literary conversations between her, Ilya and Amelia that were over my head... I always think I'm well-read until these sorts of situations arrive. In this case I actually felt dumb. Where are those Elliott Bay Book kids when you need them in-miniture whispering in your ear?

At midnight I actually caught "Wait Wait" on NPR which wasn't the most stellar show this week but was worth listening to just to hear Barak Obama calling to apologize for ruining this guys chance for a date by saying "Hey, man- sorry if I hurt your game-" GAME. The man, a US Senator, said "hurt your game." America, seriously: put this man in the Oval Office and all might be right in the cosmos for a couple of years. For reals. What have you got to lose?



P.S. Several years back I was convinced that ALL ARTmaking HAD BEEN REDUCED TO GIMMICKry, and now I can't help but

wonder if literature isn't the same..

Posts Titled: Dead or Alive?

Good and interesting days interspersed with dark and virtually hopeless ones.

As Nadine and I lament our financial situation Berlin overall contunies to offer new and interesting people and experiences. Wednesday we went to a potluck at a friend of a friend's place which was actually in our neighborhood. Amelia (friend of Leland from Seattle) had a whole gaggle of fascinating characters over for a make-a-pizza-for someone-else potluck. I haven't been around so many english speakers in a month so I found myself talking much more that I normally would at a social gathering, really exicted at the mere fact that I could express myself fully and others could understand completely and respond. I spent most of the evenging talking with Tod who is currently in the Hague doing his first book reading (his novel comes out in the states in 2008?) and Ilya, a Australian-Russian journalist who went from Baghdad to chasing Brintney for the Enquirer. Also spoke quite a bit with Ryan, a really effing talented painter from Boston, and Michelle, a reporter for Deutsche Welle Radio. How the hell are there a dozen truly interesting people at one party? I was amazed at how clever and fun these people were, all ex-pats and all doing good things with their lives. Amelia even sang at one point, which is pretty gutsy really, bt apparently she'd written a song, played it on iTunes and sang along. Lovely.

Nadine got along just fine as well, and half the time we were off talking to our own newly-people (I only mention this because in the two previous parties Iîve attended here I've clung desparately to the people I arrived with, only nodding and having brief exchanges with the other party-goers.



Black Market: für nützliches Wissen und Nichtwissen. It's a bird. It's a plane. It's Superman.

I took part in a large-scale art project tonight, basically the SCENARIO:
HAU EINS (Hebbel-am-Ufer EINS of Drei) a nice old theatre, one enters the lobby where young people are busy directing traffic and talking can be heard, lots of talking. I go to an alcove that says SchwarzRadio (Black Radio) and give some ID in exchange for a little radio and headphones what is transmitting conversations on multiple channels (one can choose) from the next room. I tune into a filmmaker (American with lisp) who is explaining his recent disasterous film endeavour with audio and photos to a younger German woman. I listen in for a few minutes before looking in on the main performance hall (an old dimly lit theatre) filled with approximately 50 small tables, each fitted with two chairs and a lightbulb and perhaps a hidden microphone and radio transmitter. It takes me a full 10 minutes to pick out the pair (based on lipreading adn gesticulation in the crowd) before I find the pair I am voyeuristically listening-in to and then I head upstairs to buy or bid on the next round. The rounds are 6 half-our sessions one-on-one with an expert in a given field. Fields range from the paranormal to Mexican border disputes. There were only six choices left when I reached the registration board so I chose the Expert on Mormonism, Amelia Seymor, who had just completed a documentary film about her own falling out with the Church of Latter Day Saints as well as all the other people in her life who had or had not left themselves. I then bumped into Michelle from the night before who had me say a few things for her piece on Deutsche Welle Radio. Michelle had also found a German Rodeo expert names Lars dressed in full-on Rodeo regalia, which was kind of awesome.

My own talk went well, we actually got started about 10 minutes early before the big GONG bang and I got her permission to record the conversation- ìfor no reason in particular, I just record stuff.î Which is true. It was back and forth for awhile until she really got going a mile a minute on every detail of Mormonism, mainly focusing on polygamy and how Joseph Smith was kind of shady... I really wanted to know about the secrets: the full body underwear, the cultish things I'd heard in rumor, but no, after she got going I could barely get a word in edgewise. I did mention Ben, my childhood friend who was Mormon and now gay who has most likely been exiled from his family, and she agreed: the Mormons encouraged praying the gay away... which doesn't usually work.
I left without getting any video of the space so maybe I'll stop by again tomorrow if I remember, but overall this Blackmarket was totally overwhelming and grand. Hundreds of people talking and trading knowledge and experience in one room- then GONG, switch over to a new group of ripe minds, there really isn't anything quite like it that I can think of... I found myself thinking ìwhat am I an expert of?... Killing Time in Semi-Productive Ways? Making sh*t? Youtube? Heh. No idea. I could be the ìExpert on Nothingî next year.



Amelia Seymor's film screens at 16:00 Sunday at HAU ZWEI.




Another icky night at my most favorite icky U-Bahn station, Kotbusser Tor. Tonight was quiet featuring a Chinaman reading a newspaper and smoking.
BELOW; HOW NOT TO ADVERTIZE THE NEW BOND FILM: set up a scene from the film using REAL dead people then charge people money to see it in a museum. THis is SOOO WRONG.

Don't kill Whitey! he's so darn cute and helpless...

Post Titled: It was hailing...

now I#ve gotta cold. grrr...

Post Titled: ouch, deep Autumn!

Claire sent this interestig link regarding Berlin Street food, which is quite brilliant. One could live fairly cheaply, and I do miss döners- alas, the meat probably isn't anything but hooves and tails anyhow.
GOOD MORNING! (or is it?)


I had another German Beurocratic Adventure/Excursion yesterday to the Office-of-Dealing-with-Foreigners (or some such name) each level was lumped into different people, for example I was on Z6 with Blackafrica, Israel, North-South-and-Middle Amerika and a few Asian countries. Fortunately I didnät arrive until 3 minutes before they closed so there was no line and they printed all my forms for me because the link on their site to the forms was actually bunk (apparently they werenät aware of this) but overall: MORE GOOGINESS! These beurocratic types in berlin are completely silly, which makes no kind of sense at all! Where's that Kafka-esque experience I always brace for? Why am I not held for questioning and curled up in a ball in the corner of a room bleeding from my ears adn nose? Thatäs wat I thought all this German government paperwork stuff woukd be but thus far it has just been encounters with large labyrinthine government buildings and silly little bibbly ladies chatting and typing at their desks, hmm... mighty suspicious...

More articles from dad clipped from the daily telegraph which I devoured in a matter of 15 minutes. I never find the american papers to be so interesting or engging, I think it is the writing. Very colourful and interesting.

(nadine typing away)

Regarding the last (lost) post
I had a job interview with a very intense Englishman in a lounge at the Sony Center in Potsdamer Platz on Saturday.
at the end of the interview we stood there, he in his long black wool overcoat saying:
"It looks just loke Blade Runner..."
"Think so?..."
Looking out on the glass ad steel and modernity with black Mercedes speeding through the rain"
"All of Berlin looks like Blade Runner..."

I'll find out in a matter of days wheather I got the job, cross your fingers...

Post TITLED: In Place of the Post TITLED Eveything in Berlin Looks Like Blade Runner (if Blade Runner is two words)in the switch to merege with Google, the blog post has dissappeared and other funny things are happeneing, hmm... where did it go? Grr. Well, while I try to figure this out here is the camera showdown at
U-Bahn Schönleinstraße between Nadine and Bianca and I on our way to see BORAT last night which was the funnest thing ever (except all the times when I was laughing much louder than an entire rest thatre (full of Germans) at all the Jewish jokes. Oooow.)



Note the wierd saddam poster in... russian?

Post titled: Enter the Fortress (a.k.a. me complaining about the American Consulate)

but first:

Ask yourself a question: "How many times have I stepped in dog poop over the last few years?"



In late October Berlin passed a law that made it a 35€ fine for not scooping your dog's poop, and when I got here it WAS out of control, literally EVERYWHERE, but it has gotten better, alas- this did not prevent me from stepping in it again last night in the cold and the rain. Yuck. Yuck. Yuck.

Second time in three weeks, before that it was once in 10 years... at least it is considered good luck here...

Anyhow.

Ironically the most faschist-looking-and-feeling thing I've encountered thus far is the American Consulate, a walled/fenced/guarded compound. The Olympienstadion comes in a close second, maily for its lack of troops.

I gave up all my electronic devices (locked in a locker) and went through the metal detector in order to enter the Botschaft von die Vereinigte Staaten von Amerika today (Consulate) to shell out 30€ for a piece of paper that says I've never been married before because I raised my right hand and said I'd never been married before. How absurd. Tacky bulletinboards with tax, avian flu, German-American ommunity Builing and Support group info lined the walls. A largest wall was full of religious/church-group paraphanelia (in a government building?) and there were also weird posters scattered about glorifying the natural beauty of Idaho, Montana, Texas, etc... I always wonder how life would be if I would've been born and raised in Texas... would I never've left? Mottos of 'Everything's Bigger in Texas' and 'Don't Mess with Texas' pong-ing around the inside of my skull... perhaps. I remember the moment in 7th grade when we found out that we'd either be moving to Montana or Germany... 'Montana,...î I thought ' I could get into that... wilderness, animals,cowboys and stuff...' but to this day I still haven't set foot in Montana.

The Consulate was a sharp contrast to most government buildings (american OR german) that I've frequented recently, namely because of it's 'one-false-move-and-we'll-shoot' feeling. There was one of those scary Marine with the little politist hats looking like the liguid-metal Terminator behind bulletproof glass in the lobby (or, rather, the maze or bars and directions and cameras that migt once have been a lobby) and that was AFTER the 2 Polizei and 3 security guards plus 3 doors that one must wait at until allowed entry, whew. Just thinking about it I hear that Michael Jacskon chorus 'I always feeel like somebdddys waaaaatttchin' meeeeee' On the second floor in the waiting room was a couple with a newborn and a Orchestral musician from Chile who had American citizenship but needed approval to travel to Abu Dhabi (sp?) for a concert. And me. More Americans than I've seen in the last three weeks total.

Sitting in the waiting room, I thought I might feel like:

'oh, Americans, familiarity- these are my people...'

but all I felt was:

'everyone is trying to get in and out first, they're hovering like cobras, and if it were allowed they could cheat and bite to get to the head of the line. Me first, gimme gimme. They mean nothing to one another.' and one could feel the apathy eminate. OR hover over your shoulder like this Sex and the City b*tch did, WHILE you're having your appointment and allow her two-year-old Burberry-wearing son to crawl on you. I do not like Sex and the City b*tches. (pardon the crude language) But It's like : WAKE UP, you don't live in an effing TV SHOW! Put the cellphone down and look me in the eye when you ask a question, damn. And stop trying to cut in line just because your 36 and dressed all nice.' (sorry, I'm a bit flustered) Literally,this woman ignored everyone in the waitiing room as soon as she entered and went straight to hovering over my shoulder trying to get the civil servant's attention while she is giving me instructions. UGH. For some reason a æ profile of Truman giving a speech in full color popped into my head 'my fellow citizens... I'm just trying to get there before you, by hook or by crook.' Wasn't he in a wheelchair? No that was FDR. Perhaps if Truman had a wheelchair it would have retractable blades like Ben Hur. I know nothing about Truman

I didn't have to wait toooo terribly long, a half-hour or so, but I did swear through two layers of bulletproof glass that I have never been married before, they even have one of those sliding drop-droors so wou couldn't hold the place up... so paranoid, the Americans, soooo paranoid... and rightfully so, I suppose, heh.

I did listen to the election coverage and probably found out about the results before most stateside-americans because of the time difference, but still... will this make any difference... even with these so-called do-good-ing Democrats, will things be any less insane? Hmm...

I wonder if they took down the photo of Rumsfeld from the wall of leaders in the 'lobby' of the consulate yet... and what do thay DO with the photo once they take it down? Raffle it off? Throw it away? Put it in a filing cabinite with all teh other things in filing cabinet...?

Post Titled: Potsdamer Platz. ick.
Earlier I got lost in the 'burbs looking for the Consulate, which was an unmarked fortress. I didn't find it because the address I had was for the Embassy, not the Consulate, but a very nice man in the Japanese-German Cultural Center helped me figure that out, I'll try again tomorrow. Meanwhile, a fence covered in dead and abandoned bicycles behled this ad (tied to a bike) for a Bow-Shooting Range suggesting you could have A CHILDREN'S BIRTHDAY PARTY there,... does that sound like a good idea?


POTSDAMER PLATZ
This commercial hub is even more commercial and more of a hub and although the name is fun to say but the place still pretty-much sucks unless your a 14-year old girl out with friends or a middle-aged businessman on a business lunch.
The last time I was here was 6 years ago when this was still (or Berlin was still) 'die groesste baustelle die Welt' (the largest construction site in the world. Potsdamer Platz looked like 'Jestons Theme-Park Island' or if there were a slice of the 5th Element's NYC plopped into a field in the middle of Berlin (which was leftover after East/West reunified.) It was lonely, sharp and fascinating. I think I mostly liked it because I was really into Rem Koolhass at the time, and the place is really just a architect/urban-planner's wet dream.

Now, 6 years later, the tiny trees have grown up quickly, but the entirety of Potsdamer Platz now strikes me as curiously repulsive (or repulsively curious)...

Of all the places not to visit for more than 10 minutes in Berlin (unless you are a Suit) Potsdamer Platz takes the cake thus far, (maybe there is somewhere more fake? More pretentious? If so, please let me know.) Sure it is glitzy, full of good shopping; stuffy dull resteraunts/cafes, and big movie screens but it could be anywhere ñ it is a shopping complex so pre-designed to be giddily futuristic mini-tropolis that is is absurd and dull after just 5 minutes. That is, if you don't arrive from the U-Bahn. Entering the shopping mall from the U-Bahn station is very threatening. One is greeted by a Space-Age hall full of overhead concrete cones, very heavy concrete cones that seem like they might crush you at any moment, just before you escape into the retail underground.

To my surprise and dumbfoundment there was a mini Weinachtsmarkt (Christmasmarket) brewing there complete with authentic-enough looking Austrian eating cabin/chalets, a ski slope which they were still filling with fake snow and, of course Gluhwein (even though it wasn't such a cold day), wurst, and those silly huge frosted-and-shrink-wrapped cookies.
I gawked at the ski slope with all the wurst-munching tourist and took photos...

at least there is still the awesome Jeff Koons sculpture (now flanked by a Blue Man Group poster instead of the Lion King)... when I was 19 I plastered all of Potsdamer Platz with Shawn Wolfe's PANIC NOW stickers... and it is still a place that should inspire panic in the core of the human-being, at the very least.


Nadine's agency offered to pay for the ticket afterall so all is well, at least I had a fun time at the internet room with the Turks and Arabs... (see below)

Sitting in ye olde Internet and long-distance place, it is crowded and someone is totally smoking hash in one of the long-distance phonecall closets, then I get and Instant Message on the computer:
marwan alhanosh: هلو بصراوي
altamar 1111: nicht mehr hier
marwan alhanosh: haloo olkai iam hige salam for mohamad and you
altamar 1111: nich verstanden, didn't understand...
marwan alhanosh: i say hallo and hawer you
altamar 1111: good, and you?
marwan alhanosh: for any way good bay
marwan alhanosh:
altamar 1111: good day?
marwan alhanosh: thank you olki bay
altamar 1111: kannst du deutsche oder parlez vous francaise?

Looking for a cheap flight so Nadine can got to a last-minute photo-shoot in Frankfurt on Thursday but it isn't looking good... nothing under €287 so far, GRRR.

Post Titled: "Electromagnetic Waves may damage the cells that produce testosterone" (girl, does that explain Metrosexuality? Does it matter? Not really.)



I stumbled upon a german radio love-life-talk-show(sounded a lot like Loveline) except that it was called "9-11" (the # you call) and the girl in the jingle kept singing 'Nine-Eleven, it's Nine Eleven time! Nine-Eleven, it's Nine Eleven time! Woo-Hoo!' or something like that in english, which means nothing in german because they have their days first then the month then year , (like, I think today is Nov. 8, which would be 8.11.2006) but to me it was freakishly creepy.

Nadine came back from Frankfurt which is good because I was crawling up the walls. I drew a political cartoon in Photoshop regarding the coming German Sales Tax hikes (from 16 to 19% on everything- oucH! Good thing I'm not planning on buying a house or a car anytime soon) The first version of the cartoon was much more engaging, but I left my computer unplugged so it shut down and I lost it, this is a recreation which lacks the charm of the first:


Dad sent a bunch of good articles which he clipped from THE DAILY TELEGRAPH, which kind of made me sad because although I never read the newspaper- too much text- I wouldn't mind having such a wealth of information is such a tangible format at my fingertips, especially since surfing the internet just ins't something I'm ever doing these days. One was on David Hockney, who- I'll admit, I didn't know much about. Another about British playwright Sarah Kane and her continued influence on the Berlin theatre scene, one about how mobile use has been linked to lower sperm count and poorer quality sperm, and a final one about how Julian Opie is making a mint off of his prints (think BLUR's BEST OF album cover- the simple plank-eye'd cartoons, he does that, that's what he does. Ugh.)

Three songs which are guaranteed to play on the radio here: 'Forever Young', 'Heart of Gold', Takin' it Easy' and 'We built this city on Rock n' Roll'

Must go to the embassy today to swear that I've never been married before... and resist that urge to say '- yea, -well except for that one time in VEGAS, but you know- what HAPPENS in VEAAAAGAS STAYS in Vegas, heh ñ you seen those ads right?'

The constant WHOOSH-ing of a blowtorch can always be heard outside. This has been going on for at least 4 days. I finally figured out that they're tarring a roof nextdoor. Ick! why use that stuff at a building material? I just think of dinosaurs getting trapped in tar pits...

Post Titled...uh, NO TITLE.
The Minimalist Turkish Bakery,around the corner, who knew?

It is a particularly cold, windy rainy day. Sometime this morning I went over and turned on the radio, hence waking up to Car Talk, which has now morphed into A Praerie Home Companion, which I actually don't mind. After years of changing the channel and wincing whenever I hear Garrison Keilor's voice I finally just let it play and even enjoy the experience. I donät know who Shawn Colvin is but she covered Gnarls Barkley's 'crazy' on the program today...I've been neglecting to put images in ye olde blog, so here they are:
(how to bide one's time and write a short story by hand)...
the unusual abandoned 'ASIA' bistro in a tiny triangular-shaped park by Kotbusser Tor, and the awful bar down the street which advertises 99 cent schnapps and football...

whenever I walk by there are always a dozen or two older chain-smoking people with plates of what appears to be fried rubber soles and half-full beers before them. There are quite a few of these very kitschy-trashy-fascinating bars in the neighborhood... hmm.

Post Titled: NADINE'S GONE (A.K.A. and then the lights came on in the middle of the night; what should I do with my life; how should I spend my time; I'll be a stock broker and get me a wife; have the diamonds cut, have the diamonds.î-song 'armageddon' by cocorosie

Nadine flew to Frankfurt a.M. to perform in the play ìnorway todayî again which left me in Berlin alone for three days. An interesting situation. Luckily Vera SMS'd and invited me to her friends Einveihungs party (house warming) for their nice new place in Prenzlauer Berg. I was late coming back from dropping Nadine off at Tegel and since I am between bank accounts I had to tactfully twiddle my thumbs at the bar we met William, Ardian and Christian at (respectively; Vera's bf, and two of his friends, nice guys clever guys from Stuttgart.) Adrian in particular was going off about Yoga, which no one else had ever heard of before except me, and Mate (tea) which was also an oddity and we were both genuinely surprised to find that each other were familiar with these obscure things (obsure here, anyhow) wow, since when do I lay on the boring details so thickly??? UGH!
the point is that I had a lot of nice talks with a lot of people and GASP actually say a few attitude-laden hipsters (hadn't seen any here before then)

This morning I decided to go to the mountain constructed from WWII rubble called DRACHENBERG but couldn't remember the U-Bahn stop and then got distracted for a few hours at THE taschen store, I think- on Kurfursten Damm, they had the CONTENT book by Rem Koolhaas and the gang which I didn't realize was printed for an exhibit here... funny thing is that book is definitely dated and almost outdated, even though it was made in Fall of 2004...

There was also a huge atlas book full of maps of the world from 1665. Kind of amazing how accurate some of the shapes of the continents were even long before satellites and photographs.

I really would like to create and in-depth analysis of the U-Bahn stations. They are all unique, different ages and full of good, bad, and insanely hideous colored tile designs. A mild, pleasantly commie-faschist example:


SO, yes, Nadine is away and I am wandering aimlessly in a city where I only know 1 out of every million people, an odd experience, on the weird U-Bahn listening to CocoRosie in the headphones, zipping about. I'm still eating pumpkin soup (day 3), and watching some odd selections from Susanne's burnt-DVD book. I'd prefer to watch the ones worth watching, but not all of them play on Nadine's iBook, but I've been watching bits and pieces of Underworld: Evolution, the Bourne -something- Constantine (Keanu Reeves movie I'd never heard of) and several others. The only way I can really justify watching these movies is that they are dubbed in German, so that helps with comprehension. Oh, I did get X-Men III and Requiem for a Dream... two depressing films actually. AND FOUND 'WAIT WAIT DONîT TELL ME'! ...But I think he BBC Radio will be keeping me warm tonight.

For about 5 minutes I thought I missed the USA, but then I relaized "Oh, wait, no I don't." I just miss people. and my ridiculous turtle.

Nadine had never seen Beetlejuice (or is it Beetelgeuse?) "What- darhling, how have you NEVER seen Beetlejuice- it IS Tim Burton!" -so we watched it last night. Apparently she'd always thought it was a ZOMBIE movie, which isn't entirely untrue...

Beetlejuice was one of my favorite films growing up (we watched it constantly in 2nd grade af friends' houses) and remarkably enough my dad actually bought it when we first got a dvd player (and he almost never buys movies)

It is a clever film, 'more-or-less fun for the whole family' with good characters, great Danny Elfman soundtrack and impressive special effects (considering when it was made) and a darkly comical premise: the afterlife clashing with real-life. It wasn't until watching it now however that I noticed how schizo Beetlejuice really is, and how he isn't actually IN the film as much as I remember. When you're a kid watching it he just seems funny and weird, but now- watching it 18 years later, his character is much more disturbing. Furthermore the movie really is about Adam and Barbara (Alec Baldwin and Geena Davis)'s struggle to come and learn how to live their afterlives'. Beetljuice is more a big pothole or shady detour on that road.

Although I've seen the film several times since I was 7 I haven't paid close enough attention to what is actually being said. First off, the part about 'if you commit suicide then you spend eternity in the afterlife as a civil servant' was something I'd never caught-onto before. Therefore if Beetlejuice was an assistant to Juno (the main underworld social worker) then he must've killed himself in life (even though there is a loophole in the logic since he now works freelance as a 'bio-exorcist'). It seems like he's been dead for so long that it is almost impossible to imagine him as a living person, but one could imagine how pathetic, sad and perverted he must've been- OR is it the afterlife that ha driven him mad. Judging by the amount of personality that Adam and Barbara have retained in the afterlife then it stands to reason that Beetljuice might've been a raving lunatic in life as well- however, Adam and Barbara are only recently deceased, so perhaps they have all eternity to become eccentric or jaded by their situation.



Anyhow, after visiting the Standesamt the other day we realized that Nadine's birth certificate had expired (how that is possible, I don't know) and I need an Affadavit statement from the embassy saying that I've never been married before in any of the 50 states... so, yea, then the processing of the paperwork takes 6 weeks, soooo,... I've got some time on my hands before I can actually legally work. (7 weeks minimum.) I'm going to look into attending the 'Deutsch als Fremdsprache' School (a very happening place since our neighborhood has a large immigrant population.

Until then a day-in-the-life will consist of waking up, going to the Öko-bakery for brötchen, croissants or bread, having breakfast with Nadine before she goes to work and then reading, writing, biking (assuming it isn't freezing cold and rainy/windy), fixing the bike that is constantly breaking, running errands, and checking craigslist/writing emails for employment opportunities until Nadine comes home and we have a lovely dinner, then fiddle with our computers or watch a movie (with subtitles in whatever available language). It's a very pleasant existence but could definitely use a bit of structure.

P.S.Oh and HOLY COW !! I FOUND NPR here on the actual radio! It shares the same channel with a weird German pop station (which describes most of the stations) so I have to get the antenna in the right place in the room but it does come in clearly and I've never been so happy to hear Diane Reams' (Reims'?) little-old voice in my life. I'll have to try to find the programming schedule online. 'll try not to listen to it too much... not like before. Germany doesn't really have anything like NPR, or rahter, not on such a concentrated form. They have KulrurRadio with classical music and news, but nothing so in-depth and extensive as much of the staple NPR programming is. Why, I don't know.

Today was freezing but partly sunny, I read about the upcoming USA congressional elections in Die Zeit, seems hectic. I haven't been this out of touch with news in years, but at the same time- that distance is good. As is only spending 10 minutes on the internet per day as opposed to 10 hours.

A friend of a friend works at St. George's Bookshop in Prenzlauer Berg where there's a movie-night tonight which we might go to. Nadine flys to Frankfurt a.M. tomorrow to perform norway today again for a fest, so I'll be alone here int he city for three days, which will be interesting... but Vera invited me to a party over the weekend, so that's good. OOh, cold.

Bezirksamt Bürocratic Wunderland

A heavy-set Turkish man with salt-and-pepper gray hair taped me on the shoulder and began asking questions about the Anmeldungs form. (When you live in a city here you have to register with the Bezirksamt, which is interesting. For example; if you moved from Portland to Seattle you'd have to register with Town Hall to let them know where you lived, who you were and if you were employed.)

In broken German with a thick Turkish accent he began pointing at the different portions of my form:

öand this section, I am not moving with my wife, we're separated, what do I have to do?

Ah, I really don't know...

And here- I just put my new address here?

Yes, the address where you are currently living...

When I had helped as much as I could he asked: You're from California?

Uh, yes, I was born there?

What kind of man are you? You left paradise to come here?!?

Well, it's no paradise, people have the same problems there that they do here.

Hmpf. Really? Hmm. Ok, thank you very much.

(he returns to his seat and whisters to his friend 'This man is from San Francisco and he came her, can you believe that?!?' (I think he misread 'Sacramento' as my place of birth)


This is the second day I'm sitting in the waiting room here. It's 9:15 am. I was here yesterday also but in the afternoon, which was a very bad idea. The room is full of 40 wooden chairs all facing the front and the walls are painted a bold bright yellow. There are the usual strange phamplets here and there in stands on the sides and windowsills, and the main attraction: the three flipping-ringing-blinking number-changer boards up high on the wall front and center. Below the flipping numbers is a sign in German, Turkish, Polish and Arabic reminding visitors not to smoke. The place was packed, and I went to the ticket-number dispenser and got ticket #152, looking up I was unpleasantly surprised to see that they were serving #82... and the numbers changed painfully slowly.

I sat and waited with the bored and tense masses. Two stinking drunk guys with large plastic bags full of bread and pastries stumbled in and went to the tiket machine to get a half dozen ticket numbers. The loudly proclaimed:

So!... No tv here? No pornofilms?! Heh.
(mind you the room is full of mild-mannered middle aged Muslims)

The two flopped down behind me and proceeded to harrass half the room until they were kicked out for smoking a half hour later.

When they returned they attempted to sell the half dozen tickets they'd gotten earlier to everyone in the room Ein Euro? Ok, 50 cent, but no less...

No one bought.

Nadine returned and we decided to leave because the numbers had only climbed into the 90's after almost an hour.



I returned this morning right after the Bezirksamt opened. Outside the building looks almost like an old gray stone church. The freezing wind and rain might've kept people away, so the tall empty halls echoed and the bustling of activity (and random hanger-around-ers) from yesterday hadn't started yet. This: another German government building (as most all do) reminds one of a Kafka novel. The inside is purely functional, if even actually functional .I know that is a clichÈ, but it is a valid and true clichÈ. Barren of joy, each door marked with tiny plastic or vinyl lettering in a little box indicating what is behind it. Coffee and fruit on a fold-out card table by the door is attended by a woman who actually says hello to everyone, which is unusual. The maze of hallways and long lines to wait for everything. The lack of any sign that this might be 2006 and not 1960. I kind of love it, especially the worn stone floors.

When my number finally was called I went to an obscure 'Platz 6' pod, opening the door to find a room full of women at their little desks chatting and laughing- a stark contrast to the quiet somber halls and waiting room.

The woman helping me was a smiley plump librarian-looking lady who quickly pointed out all the things I was missing on my form, meanwhile she yelled-sang loudly:

Oh, Seattle like Schlaflos is Seattle, what a beauuuuutiful film!

Ok, so I've heard, I still haven't seen it.

It's a lovely film! (calling over to co worker across the room) Petra, have you seen Schlaflos is Seattle with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan?

Ya schönes film! Ah...

Schönes film.



That wasn't to painful. What is painful is the freezing rain and the daunting task of finding a job before I'm completely destitute, heh. On that note the blog will be updated much less because we just received an astronomical bill for our internet. Ugh. I don't know how they can get away with that. The strangest things are so expensive here, there is a huge tax on plane tickets, for example, and all electronics and technologies are very expensive. But food and rent are very cheap.

Halloween came and went and the only sign I really saw of it was the super-sale on the doyen or so sets of Halloween paper-plates and party bowls they had which had been marked down to 1€, oh well, at least I didn't have to worry about a clever costume this year.

Bezirksamt Burocratic Wunderland



A heavy-set Turkish man with salt-and-pepper gray hair taped me on the shoulder and began asking questions about the Anmeldungs form. (When you live in a city here you have to register with the Bezirksamt, which is interesting. For example; if you moved from Portland to Seattle you'd have to register with Town Hall to let them know where you lived, who you were and if you were employed.)

In broken German with a thick Turkish accent he began pointing at the different portions of my form:

ìand this section, I am not moving with my wife, we're separated, what do I have to do?î

ìAh, I really don't knowî

ìAnd here- I just put my new address here?î

Yes,

When I had helped as much as i could he asked: You're from California?

Uh, yes, I was born there?

What kind of man are you? You left paradise to come here?!?

Well, it's no paradise, people have the same problems there that they do here.

Hmpf. Really? Hmm. Ok, thank you very much.

(he returns to his seat and tells his friend ìThis man is from San Francisco and he came her, can you believe that?!? (I think he misread ìSacramentoî as my place of birth)



This is the second day I'm sitting in the waiting room here at 9:15 am. I was here yesterday also but in the afternoon, which was a bad idea. The room is full of 40 wooden chairs all facing the front and the walls are painted a bold bright yellow. There are the usual strange phamplets here and there in stands on the sides and windowsills, and the main attraction: the three flipping-ringing-blinking number-changer boards up high on the wall front and center. Below the flipping numbers is a sign in German, Turkish, Polish and Arabic reminding visitors not to smoke. The place was packed, and I went to the ticket-number dispenser and got ticket #152, looking up I was unpleasantly surprised to see that they were serving #82... and the numbers changed painfully slowly.

I sat and waited with the bored and tense masses. Two stinking drunk guys with large plastic bags full of bread and pastries stumbled in and went to the tiket machine to get a half dozen ticket numbers. The loudly proclaimed:

So!... No tv here? No pornofilms (mind you the room is full of mild-mannered middle aged Muslims)

The two flopped down behind me and proceeded to harrass half the room until they were kicked out for smoking a half hour later.

When they returned they attempted to sell the half dozen tickets they'd gotten earlier to everyone in the room Ein Euro? Ok, 50 cent, but no less...

No one bought.

Nadine returned and we decided to leave because the numbers had only climbed into the 90's after almost an hour.



I returned this morning right after the Bezirksamt opened. Outside the building looks almost like an old gray stone church. The freezing wind and rain might've kept people away, so the tall empty halls echoed and the bustling of activity (and random hanger-around-ers) from yesterday hadn't started yet. This: another German government building (as most all do) reminds one of a Kafka novel. The inside is purely functional, if even actually functional .I know that is a clichÈ, but it is a valid and true clichÈ. Barren of joy, each door marked with tiny plastic or vinyl lettering in a little box indicating what is behind it. Coffee and fruit on a fold-out card table by the door is attended by a woman who actually says hello to everyone, which is unusual. The maze of hallways and long lines to wait for everything. The lack of any sign that this might be 2006 and not 1960. I kind of love it, especially the worn stone floors.

When my number finally was called I went to an obscure 'Platz 6' pod, opening the door to find a room full of women at their little desks chatting and laughing- a stark contrast to the quiet somber halls and waiting room.

The woman helping me was a smiley plump librarian-looking lady who quickly pointed out all the things I was missing on my form, meanwhile she yelled-sang loudly:

Oh, Seattle like Schlaflos is Seattle, what a beauuuuutiful film!

Ok, so I've heard, I still haven't seen it.

It's a lovely film! (calling over to co worker across the room) Petra, have you seen Schlaflos is Seattle with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan?

Ya schönes film! Ah...

Schönes film.



That wasn't to painful. What is painful is the freezing rain and the daunting task of finding a job before I'm completely destitute, heh. On that note the blog will be updated much less because we just received an astronomical bill for our internet. Ugh. I don't know how they can get away with that. The strangest things are so expensive here, there is a huge tax on plane tickets, for example, and all electronics and technologies are very expensive. But food and rent are very cheap.

Halloween came and went and the only sign I really saw of it was the super-sale on the doyen or so sets of Halloween paper-plates and party bowls they had which had been marked down to 1€, oh well, at least I didn't have to worry about a clever costume this year.