fittin' to get tight

Today, Ill head down to Tuebingen to see my friend Dima and get my guit-fiddle.  I dont have the patience right now (or motivation) to learn any more songs on the banjo.  Its hard.  There are books, of course, but its not the type of instrument that should be learned alone. It should be taught by old frailers to young ones on a front porch somewhere in appalachia.  Although, I did meet a gentleman the other night named John Sebastian. Yes, of the Lovin' Spoonful. And he said he learned it outside of appalachia. 

Anyway, my buddy Tyler and I mosied into a jazz bar in the old town, banjo tones drawing us in.  This dude was tearing up the banjo, frailing. we asked him during his break where he learned to clawhammer. He said his dad taught him, but that it wasnt his favorite instrument to play. Evidently he is an amzing guitartist.  He played with the Ray Charles Band and said he'd travelled all over playing music.  At the time, we had no clue we were talking to the guy who played woodstock, wrote 'daydream', 'do you believe in magic' and 'summer in the city' and was the American response to the british invasion. (he spoke with a Greenwich British accent-- what a punk). Quite a surprise, eh?

Well, yesterday was my last day at the dreadful Planetactive.  No more number punching, no way. 

Im off to read Bartleby.

Currently listening : Bananaphone By Raffi Release date: 15 October, 1996

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a week and five months
Current mood: restless

a week and five months

Its been a while since Ive written on this thinger.  Since taking my blogging abeyance, I have witnessed the splendor of a qauint german town through a crystal chain of falling water. Well below, a thin, cool mist glazed two sun-kissed faces. Within this frame, lucent beads of moisture graced the bridge of her nose, absorbing rich green hues.  Sunlight pierced the leafy deck, accenting her olive skin, her mysterious eastern radiance.  There we sat, on our bench. Never before had I sought such refuge in raging water. She held my right hand with both of hers. I awoke. Off to the right, a mother and father passed with their son on the trail.  I smiled nervously at them.  My cascading cover I quickly regained and muffled thoughts begat jubilation.  Nights of shrill incantation drown in crushing undercurrents.  I heard only her voice tethered in the falls, gracefully releasing me.

Currently listening : Trouble By Ray LaMontagne Release date: 14 September, 2004

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Elton John.
Current mood: jubilant

I saw sir elton and his royal, rock and roll band last evening in Mannheim.  Among other slightly more elton-ish songs, Elton belted bennie and the jets and philadelphia freedom, took tiny dancer for a bit of a jiving walk, and grooved for a solid 20 minutes on rocketman.  He finished with your song and saturday! saturday! saaaaturday! saturday nights alright for fighting!  The SAP Arena lies just outside the city, a stone's throw from the fields by the train tracks.  our seats were kind of high, near the Decke unter den Holzdachsparren.  Thats right, wooden rafters in a 14,000 seat arena.  It was unreal. 

I ate a berliner by the security folk before entering the arena, in order to indulge in the sweet, red center one last time before I parted ways with my berliner bakery brownbag.  I had a couple, and, as I surely wouldnt risk ruining the sweet satisfaction of the solitary Berliner, offered the security guard me second jelly doughnut.  He smiled and amiably, appropriately declined.  I posit the existence of an iron, beaurocratic blanket which covers peoples mouths, keeping the jelly doughnuts out.  I also had to bid my new volvic water bottle farewell to the (ungetrennt!) garbage.

The ride home was nice.  Julie and I partook in rich, educative discourse with our cab driver.  Gomo has lived in Germany for twenty years as a kurdish emigrant from Iraq.  He expressed a grave appreciation for America's current presence in his home country, helping his people.

a bit of grey day.  the rain has dampened the heretofore bashful sun.

Currently listening : Live at Luther College By Dave Matthews & Tim Reynolds Release date: 19 January, 1999

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why beautify dying
Current mood: complacent

The temptation in enchanting sounds and words is at best a kind of easy, beautiful dying, and at worst a kind of cruel scraping on a broken instrument which must be broken.  Music and poetry dwell-- sometimes precariously quiver-- at the summit of the depths of living and dealing with dying.  She stood behind the podium and introduced the songs to whose melodies she will never step.  Her brown locks accentuated her lightly-freckled, sunkissed nose as she smiled, speaking my language. 

My language.  What is that?  I havent yet matured.  Im sick of reading mediocre words that reinforce the notion that I can somehow avoid life. Thus,

I now wash dishes in a german medival town.  My hands now have scars.

I look forward every day to seeing a french girl with whom I, sadly, will never share much-desired conjugal relations. 

I bake pies like its nobody's business and want to waste away in a sunshiney, southern-german park. 

Every five or so minutes Im reminded of my fleeting youth. Consequently, I try to sleep a lot. I would drink if I could afford it (both, physically and financially). 

Im no comedian. only sometimes. 

Ive gotten quite used to the strange aromas of my African neighbor's cuisine. However accustomed I may be to his culinary practices, though, today's dish possessed a scent pungent enough to drive me to the streets.

Im tired.  Good night.

Currently listening : Live at Luther College By Dave Matthews & Tim Reynolds Release date: 19 January, 1999

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wow
Current mood: content

I feel like it.  whew...a bit of the jackson five after a night of music trivia and boozing...nice.  trying to live without your love is one more sleepless night.  i didnt realize that i was into the whole surrealist Magritte motif in my Italy photos until this evening when I googled it.  Groovy.  I had no idea.  I just like grannies.  A bunch has happened since my last post.  I have been to italy and back and run a half marathon.  I dont think Ill do a full until I have someone with whom I can train.  I had that, but shes gone.  Its also a shame what happened to michael jackson with his trial and failure at life.

I am in the midst of finishing a paper on the treatment methods in Georg Heym's Der Irre and how he critiques the Wilhelmine society of his day. Its fascinating...to an extent. My motivation is waning as the trip to Greece approaches.  Every now and then the things I lean on lose their meaning, and I have to reevaluate what I actually want to write and why.  It doesnt much matter, I suppose.  Though, I feel fine any time shes around me, now.   

James Taylor's voice takes me back to Carolina...and i dig it.  I just think of warm weather and bronze skin and dewy grass between my toes down to the lake...a fire down at the edge, tending to it a young man named joshua.  itll be nice to return to my home.

Currently listening : Sweet Baby James By James Taylor Release date: 25 October, 1990

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I' be neba der kappe
Current mood: cheerful

Wow, what a weekend it was!!  I had an incredible time with friends in their home towns.  On Thursday, I met Christina at the Bahnhof--orange in pocket, pretzel in hand (not to mention, three already in the belly)-- and we jumped the regional train to her home in Balingen (one of the many -ingens of Baden Wuerttemburg).  We sat opposite one another on the blue and red seats, my bag above, hers below.  As we split the snow-decked landscape, she described her family and friends who I would meet at the theater later that evening at the titilating transvestite picture show.  We arrived at the Bahnhof-- ay, the platform--and spotted her mother's green mercedes as we came to a stop.  She grabbed her bag, and I mine, and toted them to the trunk.  Frau Neff greeted us with a smile and a hug.  I immediately saw the resemblance 'twixt mother and daughter in the facial structure 'round the cheeks and the brown eyes.   We climbed in the car and conversed a bit, I, trying my best to decipher the heavy swabian dialect, until we arrived at their house. Stucco-walled fortresses with clay-shingled rooftops lined the road, nestled together in an orderly fashion.  Chris showed me around her house a bit before we sipped strong coffee and nibbled on the Fasnetzkuchen her mother had prepared the previous night.  I spoke a bit of my home and she of hers.  Her thriving houseplants blew me away.  Several plants at least six feet in size towered underneath the snowy grey glass panels adjoining her living room.  Thick bases. 

Shortly thereafter, I accompanied her up to meet her brother and her mother's old guitar.  The dust layer on the exterior of the case was the result of years of sitting on a shelf, untickled, unpraised.  I tuned it to the best of my ability until the intervals were at least correct.  It must have been a bit too flat, but I couldnt be bothered to raise it.  The stale strings produced a surprisingly rich tone (allbeit wavering), I suppose, as do most classical guitars.  I sang a tune and stummed a bit while Chris bathed and schminked herself up for the show (she was really excited).  I hadnt a clue what I was to expect of the evening, other than having to speak German.  We headed downstairs to go, presumably, but, instead, I was greeted by a table full of wurst and bread and other hearty snack foods.  I enjoyed a few hot peppers with my meat and cheese, all on a few slices of freash bread.  It was a darker dough than that which I  am accustomed to eating--very heavy and satisying.  I talked a bit of German with her parents while she frantically sought the appropriate observations materials for the film.  Its no easy task understanding the near unintelligible jargon Swabians, and speaking their language almost impossible for me, but somehow we conversed (mostly in Hochdeutsch).  Chris finally found and gathered all her goodies for the night and we departed five minutes later than planned.  Maybe it was my presence that shook her german punctuality.  We arrived at the theater to be greeted first by Corina, Corina and Frank, along with 20 of Christinas close friends.  I joined Corina and Frank for a bier before the movie, and then found a seat in the theater.  I had ne'er before seen the Rocky Horror Picture Show-- a fact I surely had no qualms about as the talkie began-- and I probably will not see it again (on my own free will).  One word: decadent.  Well, one more: cocaine. 

After the movie, we walked to a bar and I had some tap water while the others drank alcohol and wondered why I drank tap water.  The evening came to a close with a departure hug from Christina and a walk to the car with Corina and Frank.  It was a nice night.  

I slept on the couch in Corina's sister's (Heike's) room.  Heike is gorgeous, as is her sister.  I had no problem slumbering in her den.  At four thirty, I heard a knock on the door--my wake-up call.  It was time to head to the bus stop for a day of skiing in the alps.  wow. skiing in the alps.  We loaded Frank's car with skis and boots and transported them to the bus.  A double-decker, the tour bus was Hauser and very nice on the interior.  Very tinted windows, as well.  Marcel (Frank's very Swabian-speaking cousin), Frank, Corina and I, with sleepy eyes, boarded the bus. Almost immediately, I was asleep, kernels in me ears, music blanketing me.  I woke up to the aroma of wurst and the crunching of marcel's carrots.  He offered me a sandwich, and I eagerly accepted.  I love german food.  I ate happily, chatting with Marcel about music and my home and his.  Frank and Corina napped together, leaning shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand.  It was a happy time for us all.  Within two hours, we carefully began our ascent up the mountain to the land of snow and ice.  Wow.  The apline peaks blew me away with their vastness.  We were in a valley at Lenzerheide, the low point, yet were so far above the drowning world whence we came.  Alps!!!  We eagerly unloaded our cargo from the bay of the bus and I wandered over to the chalet in which I could rent some equipment for the day.  I grappled with the idea of snowboarding, but couldnt be bothered to for only one day.  Instead, I rented some parabolic skis and nice, warm boots with four tally snaps and some velcro.  I happened to be the first customer in the store at 9am, and also happened to rent the last pair of boots my size.  Boots on my feet, skis on my back and sweet, blue snowpants on my legs, I met the other three at the entrance.  We carefully placed our ski-cards (not tickets, like Im used to, but plastic cards with strips in them that allow access to the lifts) in our pockets, slapped our skis on and off we went to the first lift.  It had been sometime since I had last skiied in the Appalachian hills 'round my way, but I took to the slopes with a smile on my face and willed my balance, trusting that I would quickly remember the motions. Our first run was FANTASTIC.  The view on the other side of the mountain lead me down each time, the lift returning me to the amazing summit.  Snow, sun, friends-- it was perfect.  We ate a bit of chocolate and some pretzels at lunch, washed down with apple juice and a bit of snow.  We took our last run around 4:30 and headed down to the bus, exhausted, red-nosed and glowing.  After a round of Gluehwein, we boarded our bus and departed Lenzerheide.  What a day.  I opened Dracula and placed my book-mark reciept about 20 pages back.  At the time, I thought it was a reasonable goal, but Stoker's tale could not keep me from dreaming my own, just minutes after having turned the first page.  I awoke, again, as I did on the way, to the smell of meat and cheese.  What a great wake up call.  We pulled into the bus garage about 9:30 that evening and made our way slowly back to Corina's house.   

to be continued....

Currently listening : Pink Moon By Nick Drake Release date: 06 May, 2003

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lame blogs.
Current mood: curious

I had a great weekend in Friedrichshafen on lake Constance with the Britians.  We rented a lovely vacation apartment, a short walk from the shore.  The weather in February on the border of three alpine countries was surprisingly warm-- I even got me feet wet.  Across the water, the port village rose up to peaks, Switzerland to the right, Austria to the left.  I enjoyed a sunset saunter on saturday evening and got some nice photographs.  I nearly lost my laptop and my books on the way back this evening, leaving my bookbag at the trainstation lockers. After successfully having found a seat on the crowded train, I realized I had indeed forgotten the aforementioned items.  Much to my dismay, i had to wait about another ten worried minutes on the train until the next stop.  I promptly boarded the next line back from whence I came.  I had a rather strange experience with a german girl on the way back to my bookbag (unimportant), and five minutes thereafter we pulled into the station.  Off to the left, exactly where I left it one half an hour before, was my blue bookbag (containing about $1500 [and my music]).  I ask you, would the bag have been stolen in your hometown?  If you are an American, living nearly anywhere in our vast land, it would have either been stolen or BLOWN up.  Big brother wouldve been on that bag, swabbing, scanning, sniffing in a matter of minutes.  Having arrived at my Zimmer safely, I now eat chex mix, feeling groovy. 

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lovely little sparrow
Current mood: jubilant

What a nice birthday weekend it was in the company of new friends! At Adelheids, I enjoyed a variety of Swabian Maultaschen--curious, little ravioli-ish pockets of beef and kraut. this evening, Adeline and I had a nice evening of chocolate chip-fueled discourse. Theres nothing quite like the speckled deck of a chip cookie cake on the bank of Adekiel lake. Friday night was filled with beerpong, followed by flirting with a british girl while eating apple pie on my friends floor.

 a sonder saunter. I strolled singingly, atop the hill, under the moon's morning. The stalks stubbled a frozen sod, whisking zephyrs belly as he parted the field. Fleecing air grooved the night without storied word or a footstep's fill. The hof slumbered lightly in the distant fences, draped in delicate lace. Alive, it became my design, an opera. oh, no libretto. Chords wondered simply, slithered back to guided, whole tones. A swelling, streaming, surging upwards, she heard? A pair of doubled soles' sweet relief.

Currently listening : Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme By Simon & Garfunkel Release date: 21 August, 2001

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meat in my belly.
Current mood: satisfied

theres nothing more satisfying than receiving a plate of three different sorts of meat slathered with mushrooom sauce, on top of a bed of Spaezle.  I had a fantastic meal this evening among friends in the Neckarmueller.  Normally, i write my thoughts on this thinger, but right now i think my mind is totally at ease with a belly full of meat. 

Currently listening : Either/Or By Elliott Smith Release date: 25 February, 1997

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good at being uncomfortable
Current mood: uncomfortable

"Kiel, offer me something."-- The demand I hear with every attempt at social interaction.  Who demands this? well...i guess, i do?  What should I offer?  I can nervously look in peoples eyes and talk and listen, but not without them totally noticing my nervousness.  Whence comes my uneasiness?  I am a simpleton.  I dont want any trouble. I wish it would set me free.

Currently listening : Extraordinary Machine By Fiona Apple Release date: 04 October, 2005

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