Bon anniversaire!

Cultural tourists, more than ever before with Mörike than travel to Prague reading flow. Perhaps you will hear the closing ceremonies of the World Cup even the Lacrimosa from the Requiem? Perhaps, the World Cup because of the Mozart year completely, as in the time Rattelschneck mutmaßte?

The anniversary marketing machine buzzes as mistaken. According to Einstein now Wolferl. Commemorative have (even in that case) absolute rights, but especially high economic activity. The hype of the giants makes me almost dizzy, almost driven to flee. Listen again next year to hear Mozart.

But one of the greatest composers of music history, despite my distaste for his zähneknirschenden commercial cannibalization deserves to be given a musicology student at the 250th Birthday congratulations. Congratulations, John Chrysostom Wolfgang Gottlieb.

The third bread knife without bread knife

The third part saga, in which obscure memories open new levels. The reader is hurled into foreign worlds. Future actions cast their shadow hidden, new tracks creep in, but still remain ambiguous and await their discovery.

"Too much silence makes mellow," Gregor thought, "Time for music."

He raffte and scuffled on the CD player. His gaze durchschlängelte the overpopulated wood shelf with the recordings. In short, his index finger to the lips sprüden, mused. Then he plucked a plate and sent it out into the abyss of Abspielers. He slumped back into the chair. The quietschten feathers. With the elbow he stripped his coffee cup. Almost had his cappuccino from the rest swept. Only a few drops schwappten.

"The spots I can wegschrubben tomorrow."

A carillon strummed slightly slanted against slow schepperndes drums, psychedelic guitars and long strings. Novo Kain for the soul. The eerie, huge girls' eyes, the diseased eye, the beautiful freak. The first panel of the Eels. And suddenly it clattered into his head. The music drove their knöchrigen long finger, won the Dietrich from the pocket and opened doors to hidden brain. There was a cinema in the head unannounced performance with old recordings long forgotten geglaubter experiences showed (on Super-8?) And only a little blurry. Gradually sharpened the image, the colors were clear. The film listened to the alarmingly barren working title "Gregor Eels-CD buys."

He peered himself on the shoulder. Gregor as Neunzehnjähriger, October 11 prior years in Minsk. With a blurred denim jacket in the weathered market hall from zerbröselndem washed between Dynamo Stadium, the Museum of the Great Patriotic War and the place of victory on which the eternal flame burned. About whom there who had triumphed, Gregor was eliminated. Also, for whom the flame burning. Probably the Patriotic War had something to do had. Completely absurd it appeared at least not the idea.

The market hall was a giant of weathered concrete block, whose roof bröseliges far lebensmüde curved and arched. Among quirlte melancholic liveliness. Schäbbig bekittelte farmers were overflowing into diesel, angerosteten Blecheimern out to knallblauen their tractors to refuel. Canisters were perhaps too expensive or simply not their beer. Fuel splashed over the edge, seeped into the porous gravel soil. Suddenly krabbelten even memories of the equally fascinating how excited disgust smell there from the treasure chest of memories back to consciousness. The smell of fuel mixed in the haze of freshly baked bread, pickled cabbage inserted, urine, Halva, red Bete, mothballs and abgehangener blood sausage.

Here in the market hall, there was almost everything life necessities. Anything to cook, bake and fry made jackets as trousers, hammers, circular saws, night vision devices. But some things perhaps in the urgency list of survival less far above. The most prominent example of this category was for a short Gregor meterhohes plastic cross of Jesus' crucifixion been in the dozens of small, colorful LEDs embedded. At the push of a button blinked this hectic, and this squawked from a small loudspeaker at the foot of the cross a melody, Gregory of a CD with Russian Orthodox liturgical chants to know believed that he once years ago at a flea market very favorable refuse. Besides the obscure Cross had on the trestle still aufziehbare tin soldiers of the Red Army stood, which also LEDs blinked. From the eyes. Almost uncanny.
Again and again had zahnarm friendly and smiling, wrinkled men in kälteanfälligen Lumpenkleidern "Drushba!" - Friendship! - And called on Fraternity Offers to drink vodka with home-tries, the boys for their hochprozentiges potato distillate enthusiasm.

In some corners of the harsh market hall could be tons of tin in which smouldered below charcoal, the so-called "Rattenbäuche" buy. In dough eingeschlagenes minced meat, whose name and sight Gregor but the appetite away. A few meters further seller sipped beer from a Einweckglas. He even had the ring alarm drangelassen and art prints sold in appallingly poor quality, mainly painters of the twentieth-century Magritte, Dali, Kandinsky, Miró. The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction. The technical reproductive possibilities seemed in this case further. For a moment there was still tilted Gregor been a pressure of concentric circles to buy Kandinsky. But the paper stank sour, the colors were very pale, the print itself is very streaky. Furthermore: The travel bag was on the Hinweg almost torn apart, where there should be a poster reinstopfen knickte without it? Gregor had not bought it.

From a relatively windstillen corner in the hall crowed music by the lively confused murmurous, feilschende feilbietende and goings: The Folklore Trio "Kressiwa", German: Feuerstein, played in traditional costumes gewandet, raging wild Polkas, dances and painfully slow mourning songs about erlittenes suffering. In each held two break Balalaika-Spieler, and the singer is selbstbeschriftete vodka bottles at the neck, causing the sharp brandy in alarmingly large Schlücken runtergluckern the throat. Some arteries were in their faces burst. The two dancers, in addition to the group included, were not getting a sip, perhaps out of consideration for their leg coordination.

Somewhere there was totally unexpected Gregor of the CD Eels found on a small patchwork quilt, Plain, intermediate or greasy bacon rinds and bloody, gehäuteten sheep's heads, Marie-Orthodox icons and old military uniforms of the Soviet era, it was a more than amazing Fund. Not U2, not Michael Jackson, not the Scorpions-the Eels in a heap of Soviet Schlager-CDs. Ironically, the Eels. And suddenly appeared to him as a much better investment over the shabby Kandinsky printing. The only western CD, which he otherwise there would still can buy would be "One, two, the police" by Modo. A nowadays not unduly nearly forgotten piece of music. Frank, the bassist of his former band, the joke had once remarked: "If I want to leave the Cheer and I want to kill me, I will stylish lay in the bathtub, brüllend aloud, one, two, police 'by Modo hear and then with a toaster thrown into the water. "So far, Frank still lived. Thank God.

Continued ...
Part 1
Part 2

It was once ...

In very young age was in a forest and verschmitzten Wiesenschrat middle of Ostfriesland a fondness for strange headgear is not always deny.

The quiet spell over the summer near the north beach

Cozy is the sun rays through their warm dust in the air to the Helmholtzplatz slide. We enter a typical house at the Prenzlauer Berg. The entrance door to the barren whitewashed house floor is smeared with graffiti, whose salary probably even the sprayers themselves now forgotten. Come clean and the same right as resident Kathrin and her lovable Teenie-Sohn Max now and she likes to paint. The houses, which she paints, as seen from the houses that they paint Well, almost. Then you can then compare how different it must have if the houses at some times different. Perhaps we could also sell it, but so far no one is interested in that. As long as they reject being on zuckerkulörfarbenen coal furnace. Even if Kathrin use the money well.

The little paradise high above the street

Because Max longs finally jogging shoes with built-in air conditioning, shock suspension and other gimmicks to have that in his friends and especially his sport, secret love ones. But work has Kathrin currently none. And with nearly forty, no! Neununddreißigeinhalb, it is trained for a show advertising designer not so easy for a new job. Especially when one is shy. They müht, visited Assessment Center courses, the success hides, but continued somewhere in the bushes of the neighborhood, the hood wearers secretly pee, if none is looking. Currently, it has enough for now. But it really works very little. Panties are still scattered across, could be bought again, except Schoko-Flakes, milk, wine and vodka is almost nothing in the house. Wine and vodka hike until late in the night with the top attic. There has Kathrin's best friend Nike pastellgestrichenes their empire and a small concrete balcony on which the whole aptly mild summer night talk, laugh, drink and dream. From wonderful professions, the right faustgenau dream man, a bit more easily in everyday life. With blood geweiteten beschwingt-benebeltem cars and awareness can also talk to the ex telephone pranks or pharmacist to concoct.

The whirl through life

With too much liquor in the blood stream and hoarse laugh strumpelt Kathrin often only in the morning back into their verschluderte Butze. Often with such great Gerumpel that Max distracted from their sleep scares. The next day, the empty bottles as thick as the head. Träge peels, Kathrin until around midday from the sheets, while the kecke Nike shrill in their provocative clothes and knatschengen have their daily morning tour starts at her job, dependent old people to look after. Because in the mind of the schrumpelfaltigen Kauzes Oskar reigns again rollercoaster. Just his dead wife to visit, the coffee jar is on your own in the hearth scrabbled and the loo flushes itself miraculously still not by itself greise Mr. Neumann lies motionless with his verhutzelten Alm-Öhi-Bart in bed and surprise: it has yet to school. And the mischievous Helene frets kuhblöden again with her daughter around, her daily accordion playing, and above all, the beloved penny Charm lectures ban. Shortly afterwards, Kathrin almost on the streets of a carpet-truck übergebügelt, with the horrors of them, but suddenly takes the lives of all those involved surprising turns ...

It seems like it is

An intriguing fragile Idyll characterized Andreas Dresen with fine line in his film "Summer in front balcony." Fully unflattering and loving eye for detail, he has his characters and accompanies them with a view to their warmherzigem trips through life-at Straucheln and failure, in the delicate moments of happiness and in the hours just before the abyss, with their sehnsuchtsvollen Schwelgen, in the small sensations and disasters, while airy upgrades and harsh dreamier bursting bubbles. Alcoholism and death, love and life, sex and frustration, child and pub. The kodderschnäuzigen and often verschmitzten dialogues are wonderfully refreshing and nowhere.

The center of things

On miraculously creates Dresen, Sponaneität to stage and the exact tightrope walk between ungestelltem, heart zerknirschender refreshing wit and melancholy. Nowhere kitschy, nowhere flat. Here are jam-Aldi and Lidl-Cola for breakfast, with the loving devotion to the low-cost dishes served, the underwear still hangs over warped chair. Everything seems coherent in its fragility, which is the life-nothing. It is as if you have a clear view in a strange life. As would be the third man in the league, the middle sternüberfunkelter summer nights behind the struppigen flowers with Nike and Kathrin albert on the balcony, was sitting with them in the evening beer at the bar of the pub around the corner, in the middle of the loud and quiet, funny and sad moments. Bolstered by the film is totally unpretentious and genuine game of the actors who kauzigen and complex characters to life, sensitive and mischievous merge with their roles. Added to the atmospheric images, the camera has captured man.

The city in the city and their film

A bit is "Summer In Berlin" for the Prenzlauer Berg, what "Amélie" was Montmartre: A dense atmospheric love letter to a district with his people and his flair. But is "Summer In Berlin" less playful and magically, clings to the fractures and difficulties in life and city, and not just refer to his peculiar, confining, delicate poetry. For me, "Summer In Berlin" almost a small miracle cinema and perhaps the finest German films of recent years.

The new look

A small but clearly visible change is in Absurd Istan confiscated. Thanks to the great help of Kathleen, I could be creative, have the weekend pencils and brushes curved and must now present a new header. A little less simple, but somewhat absurd. I hope that the loading times are not hours.

The Wa (h) ren interns

Gedauert had it. But after years of static tests, eternal Afterthought at neuralgic points and problems with the material consistency has now recently unveiled to the serial, virtual shopping cart is presented, also in the (internships) as a candidate and laid goods can be transported easily.

Screenshot of www.praktika.de

The bread knife goes on

The second part saga

Two weeks ago, the. Maybe even three. Since then, Jörg swear in a boiling sea of physical passion Submerged-for the rest of the world disappeared. Also for Gregor. Janine just 20, had an apprenticeship as Floristin canceled and jobs now at the front desk in a strip club schummrigen location on the bottom of the harbor, not far from the Hamburg Mountain. According to Jörg, it germinated in the hope that there will soon also to be able to dance and maybe even Star Revue up. Intellectually rich water they could hardly Jörg, who has his economics studies in a financial consultant for publishing textbooks for Accounting lektorierte.

Memories of the joint bars evening, in which he made the news Jörg had krabbelten from memory, while Gregor briefly from the ears chair rose to a powder cappuccino aufzugießen.

"Intellectuals ... papperlapingpong eye level, I sach you! Too much intellectual eye level to provide time for short-sightedness! You should think less and act more, my dear! Too much spirit paralyzes! If the intellect completely tail and look at the vice pressed, he misplaces dsie view on the essentials. If I try to mind-level stimulate wants hab 'ich but my friends, "Joerg outlined its position. "Not much light up. But front 02,000 volts und'n damp slot, which is the main thing. Man, that's true ne grenades bride! World class, as long as they are not your mouth to speak out toward. Thanks God it does only rarely. " He had impish zugezwinkert Gregor, kumpelhaft him on the shoulder and knocked a metal laughter from the throat clatter. "Only fun!" Then he had two Absacker still be ordered. Gregor had mitgelacht. A little artificial. Then he said only: "Sometimes you are really full Horst, weißte that? But yes, women seem to stand out. " Jörg had energetically pulled at his cigarette. "What you leave a can, old man!" In his new plate-pool mixed with a thin Fiepen. His face swelled red that he had swallowed the smoke.

With Gregor had laughed. But such statements were opinion and not his cup of tea, made for dizziness due to severe Kopfschüttelns. Sure, it also resulted in the sight of a well-shaped female body attractive, tended tingling and the synapses began spontaneously einberufe a chord work shift. Nevertheless.

"Gently sweeping curves, lips moist, tender bites under hot kisses, in the back festkrallen their breath whiff felt in the ear ... Sure, the ravishing, great. Verwuschelte hairs between zerwühlten pillows, wolllüstiges grin after waking up ... Traumhauft! But when the body except Lichen nothing to a woman finds interesting, except the passionate affection is not a level at which you share something with it ... If you make a joke and you only see Glupschaugen confused with an imaginary, flashing question mark on the forehead, verständnislos ... If they then perhaps still at least silly giggles, because they suspect that what you just said, you may well have to be funny ... But this is scrap! Since missing but the Major ounce of 'more'! "Gregor muttered to herself when he was in the boiling water tipped his cup." The lust for the female body, but in a much larger and broader appeal rise ... The only makes a woman desirable, or not? Am I really too idealistic? Is this already too much to ask? "'s Own, he had that right thinking, a priori, the" target group "tremendously reduced.

And his track success in recent years, but a little from the eyes had lost. Jörg would already know what he did. Moreover, it was finally his life. And that was how Gregor easily find sighing had for some time but much more exciting than his own. Raindrops clapped incessantly against the window, have come together and ran a turbid tears down the disc. Television wanted Gregor not to read, he was after rough day at work too tired.

As a graphic designer in one of the major advertising agencies should Hamburger he is a new logo for the airport Fuhlsbüttel design. It should be fresh, cheeky and concise, curious, and a Backward aircraft, a runway and a rising sun should it be seen. Twelve designs he had abgerungen PR-Chef and the airport operator sent. Dr. Achenbach. This was not a rudimentary promised. Arroganter Ignorant!

"It removes something from the fight against the Don Quixotes windmill," Gregor thought, and began a smile, the obese PR-Chef the airport than with the poor rudernde pinstripe suit Windmill present: Trinity with his chin, fleeing, fettglitzernden forehead with the almost on the back of the head reclusive, gray hair melierten approach, with its borderless, deliberately on the most deeply held high nasal tip geschobenen glasses. These opaque buttermilk this view. His mostly brown suits combined it with great determination in shirts and ties impossible patterns and color combinations, in which sight is almost grauste Gregor. At the same time, Dr. staged Achenbach is like as art patrons and glared at angelesenem openings with half knowledge, was also allegedly flew to London to access an auction for a genuine mitzubieten Magritte. Probably was Dr. Achenbach said at the exhibition opening been on the Jörg and Janine had learned to know. Probably had his unsachverständigen, erzkonservativen eyes especially big outcry in the Missgeschickliche view.

"Arroganter Kackschnösel", it escaped Gregor, ears back in the chair, the hot cup of coffee on the upper floor. Small Wutfunken glommen in on him. Especially disdainful Schnösel like Dr. Achenbach vermaledeite were the reason why Gregor's social life in recent times quite often to the benefit of unnecessary work had come back. A point that was more than angry aufstieß.

Contrary to his gönnerischen gesture, the universalgebildeten Nimbus, the Dr. Achenbach anknipste before leaving the house, on the way to public events, left his office only on large artificial intelligence. Mainly hung fuzzy aerial photographs of the airport grounds or exterior views of the terminals on the white, cool walls. And yet the brightness made an arc around the room, the gloomy interior decoration klobige-fearing, simple dark cabinets (solid oak), in which a family photos (provided), golden framed. In a Black Forest cuckoo clock, in addition to a black steel shelves with files folders. On his desk lungerte a miniature replica of the Sphinx from lapis lazuli. "Did my mother brought from Egypt." Had Achenbach purred-Gregor then nodded approvingly, his subconscious to start wondering and faded away only to a related connection between mother and Sphinx recalls.

Part III follows shortly in this theater ...

Part I