Some time has passed, allowing me to really work through some of the choices I've made. I think that I can now say with confidence, that I forgot to pack:1. My c.phil. to give to Thomas.
2. My favorite pair of black pants.
3. My map of Berlin. Or did I trade it with Kalil for The Brothers Karamazov?
4. Learn Hungarian in Ten Days or Less!
5. My dignity.
So, I moved across the neighborhood today. My new sublet is further from the Staatsbibliothek but its cheaper and bigger. My place last week had a spectacular view (Behold kickass nightview!) but was a bit of a mausoleum. Like, big blocks of marble/concrete that both muffled all outside noise and amplified your every footstep. The only sign of of human life (besides the one-man dance parties in my studio) was a short elevator ride I took with a very old man. After he pressed the button for 11 and I pressed the button for 12 he said something like: "you live on the floor right above me!" To which I could only truthfully reply: "yes."
So, I moved across the neighborhood today. My new sublet is further from the Staatsbibliothek but its cheaper and bigger. My place last week had a spectacular view (Behold kickass nightview!) but was a bit of a mausoleum. Like, big blocks of marble/concrete that both muffled all outside noise and amplified your every footstep. The only sign of of human life (besides the one-man dance parties in my studio) was a short elevator ride I took with a very old man. After he pressed the button for 11 and I pressed the button for 12 he said something like: "you live on the floor right above me!" To which I could only truthfully reply: "yes."
I'm going out on a limb here, but if we were to treat Kreuzberg as the Brooklyn of Berlin. And call my old neighborhood Carroll Gardens. I am now in East Flatbush, though with more Turks. I have no idea what the crap I'm talking about. Anyway, the best part about the new place is that its another family's actual home (the other place was a perpetual short-term sublet) so there's all sorts of charming signs of life. Like the little girl's paper crown with glued-on feathers sitting on top of the tv. And the complete discography of Stevie Wonder.
So twice now I've nearly been run over by bicycles, and once by the gay pride parade, because I've stopped abruptly to look at concert fliers papering some wall. Joe Satriani and Sammy Hagar are in town apparently. But really, what I may make some extra time for, is the Queen cover band performing at the Planetarium. The show is titled "Queen in Heaven."
Awesome.
Send me all my books and stuffed animals. I'm not leaving.
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