You could almost feel the sensation that it was more than coincidence that made Anne Heisig walk down Schillerstrasse that night. And it almost seems like there was something more than simple musical interest that made her stop and listen to us. And there was must have been something more than courage that made her cross the street and begin one of the best friendships I’ve ever had.
It’s almost hard to fathom that I’ve known this girl for less time than items still in the news as “current events.” And it feels like the things she’s showed me – India Arie, a TV program out of the DDR known as “Sandmann,” a significant appreciation for Tracey Chapman – are all things that I’ve liked for all my life.
After I would finish my homework in the afternoon, I’d go back to the bench at which we first met, and we’d use whatever ragtag assortment of instruments we could throw together to have as much fun as possible for the next 6-8 hours. In total, we used three different guitars, three different harmonicas and a violin. We performed on Schillerstrasse, at Fete de la Musique, at Blaue Nacht, on Windischenstrasse, and in front of as many bars and restaurants as was allowed.
The songs that belonged to us were Mary Jane's Last Dance by Tom Petty and Gimme One Reason and Revolution by Tracey Chapman. Over the course of less than a week, we grew attached to those songs and just the simple act of playing whatever came to mind for hours at a time.
Of course, after playing music and making whatever meager money we could, it would be time to explore Weimar's crazy nightlife, ranging from smokey hole-in-the-wall bars full of college students to smokey hole-in-the-wall bars full of young adults. Of course, there was always also my favorite activity of spending hours talking to Anne and her friends Maria and Stefanie until the sun began to come up at 3 in the morning and we'd all walk home.
Or last night, when we all went to a slightly less smokey salsa club and Anne taught me to dance salsa until the sun came up at 3 in the morning.
Today was the last day I might ever see Anne Heisig. I met her at our bench on Schillerstrasse. We played our songs and didn't make any money, but it didn't matter. Anne was leaving for France today and I for Dresden. In our last two hours, we practiced our tradition of getting Doeners, then we walked all the way to the Weimar Hauptbahnhof (main train station). I had dozens of opportunities along the way to take the bus back toward Ehringsdorf and get packed, but every second I spent would never be able to be spent again.
Strange - Weeks ago, when I was worried about leaving for Germany, I had a dream in which I met a girl. It was frantic- I was running from a gang or something at the time for some reason, but she started running too. After a long time of talking while flat-out sprinting (isn't it great how you don't get exhausted in dreams?), I asked her what her name was.
"Hannah heiss ich."
That phrase (Hannah is my name) sounds almost exactly like the name Anne Heisig pronounced in German.
I was relieved when I missed my bus back from the Weimar Hbh. I had another 15 minutes to see Anne off. I put my bag down, took her hands, and hugged her. She told me she'd think of me whenever she hears a harmonica. She hugged me tighter. I kissed her on the cheek. We came out of the hug and I gave her the flower. She took my hands and I looked into her light blue eyes, and with a smile and sort of a half-wink, through tearing eyes, she said "Mach's gut."
Last week, I found my heart on a bench on Schillerstrasse. But this morning, I watched it leave on a train for France. As I sit on the train to Dresden, writing this, I can almost feel specifically the fact that she took these tracks just hours before. But right now, I'm looking forward to getting a guitar in Munich and playing those songs again. Anne may have taken a little of my heart, but she let me keep my soul.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
Nightfall will be Coming Soon
Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve fallen in love.
Four days ago, I sat on a bench in the inner city of Weimar, thinking to myself. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I, unlike the other people on the trip, seemed to be incapable of having a good time. Sure, I’d been able to go out anywhere in the city whenever I wanted to, or surf the internet (when I’m actually able to connect), or even go out and play music in the street and make some money. But it seemed like time after time, I was just passing the time until my next session of sitting alone on my bed, trying to figure out why I’d come to Germany to study in the first place. And let me tell you, those sessions started happening far too often.
Last Thursday, I found myself sitting on a train to Berlin, with two harmonicas in my pocket and Otis Taylor playing bluegrass from my iPod. To be honest, I was not looking forward to spending the next four days in Germany’s capital, taking an average of 4 tours per day and getting along in a city I’d heard was full of much meaner people than Weimar. After all, if I may quote my last post: “In my first seven seconds in Berlin, I managed to get yelled at for talking about polka music stand in the way of a train full of commuters…” Naturally, after that first day, I was not expecting to have a very good time.
The next day, I made plans to visit my friend from elementary school through high school, Kylie Gregory, who was also staying in Berlin for the summer. But I sort of had my reservations at first. In the past, when I’ve been with Kylie, I’ve sometimes felt that I had to be different from my usual self in order to keep up with her. You know how some people are fun enough that you sometimes feel the need to be more exciting than usual in order to stay appealing? Well, my more-down-than-usual emotional situation over the past few months combined with the fact that I hadn’t seen Kylie in perhaps an entire year made me a little apprehensive.
Be aware that this is the same Kylie with whom I explored the cities of Nürnberg and Munich two years ago, as part of my high school’s exchange program.
Pictured: Kylie and me in Munich, 2008
I called Kylie on Friday evening. As soon as she answered the phone and said “hello Rob” in a voice I didn’t realize I missed nearly as much as I did, I knew my expectations would be wrong. We met in a café- let me interject here and say that the text editor I’m using automatically put the accent over the e; I didn’t go out of my way to put it there, Hana- near my hostel. I got her a rose from a woman selling flowers in the Prinzlauerberg area (which pretty much died by the next day, sadly) and we met the girl selling coffee behind the counter. She was a blonde girl with a German mom and a French dad, and she managed to make the best drinks ever for us. The next stop was a Thai restaurant in the Kreuzberg neighborhood, where our waiter became an extremely good friend for the weekend. His name is Ali. He’s a Pakistani student who speaks German with barely any accent, but English with a much more noticeable one. We ate samosas and drank two Mojitos and a Mai Tai total.
But the thing that Kylie did after that was what kept making the difference all weekend. She never made any plans. As soon as we left the Thai place, I was sort of surprised by her question of “where do you want to go next?” Honestly, I’m not much of a party person at home. But I would have loved to embrace any new way of life for the weekend, so I did.
We went to a Korean restaurant next.
It was here that I decided to take out my notebook and start documenting things so I could write about it later. As the night went on, for some reason, my handwriting tended to get more and more illegible…
“Things to Remember (in Berlin) 6/18/10-6/21/10
-Things ordered:
-Korean Princess
-Thing that starts with S
-Bibimbap
-Sat in the red section
-like a bordello
Bordello = bad place
-Kylie wrote that ^
-Kimchi with cabbage, bean sprouts, cucambers, I’m a little this
-Kylie: “Honest people come from good roots
-didn’t mean it abot momya”
And from later in the night, when the notebook was used to both document and make sure I didn’t get lost somewhere in Berlin late at night:
“Orianienstrasse @ Adelbertstrasse
Berlin Ubahn is like MARTA but more crowdeder. People are a bit nicer. Even at 2 AM still a lot of people.
Alexanderplatz aussteigen
U2 bis zum Pankow Station”
The next night, I went to Kylie’s apartment in Schoeneberg. We sat on her balcony and drank wine and played harmonica for hours. Then we walked to a Chinese takeout place on her corner (awesomely called Ding Dong) and got the smallest order of spring rolls. Then later to a Mexican restaurant, where we shared an appetizer and met a pair of Germans sitting next to us.
Pictured: Kylie and me in Berlin, 2010
And last night, Kylie and I started at a cheap sushi place (sake is awful), then returned to the Thai restaurant and visited Ali again, then to various bars, and finished by singing Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” in two-part harmony on some street corner and getting joined by a group of Tajikistani people for an impromptu street party before the sun started coming up.
I’ve come to re-realize that in life, the most wonderful things happen when they’re least expected. Would anyone ever have guessed that in the middle of a bit of a hard time in my life, out of nowhere, I would have one of the best weekends of my life with one of my oldest and best friends on Earth, in the middle of a foreign city 5000 miles from my home, without making any plans at all? That’s the part that leaves the biggest impression on me. All through the weekend, Kylie Gregory and I had absolutely no plans; something I’m not extremely accustomed to. We would let things happen as they came, and I could never want it to have turned out any better. To again quote my notebook, in one of the less legible sections: “I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this happy. You managed to take me out of this ditch I’ve been in, and for the last few days, lift me up to the top of the world.”
Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve fallen in love.
In love with Berlin, and thanks to one of my best friends, if things keep going this way, in love with life again.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Looking Down from her Hotel Room
You know you're oblivious when your professor has to tell you about the girls who were checking you out in the hall.
Aaaaaaaaand... first night in Berlin!
I'm staying in a hostel called East Seven. Like the name suggests, it's in a pretty bad section of East Berlin. Bad section as in don't go out alone bad. I'm considering taking the U-Bahn down to Schoenberg in a little bit to visit a friend of mine though. But it's okay, because the closest station is just two blocks away.
So, the music store affairs continued rather smoothly. I returned the next day and made sure NOT to ask the owner how he was doing. It worked out a lot better for me this time - he didn't seem to remember me from the previous day, and I more clearly clarified what I meant by "test out" the guitars. Apparently the owner thought I meant I wanted to meticulously look over every single one for dust and scratches. Which, on a normal day, I'd be absolutely fine with... but I was in a hurry that day. So I just bought a harmonica (Hohner Blues Harp MS, for those of you keeping score at home) and tested two of the guitars. Lemme tell you... for a 200 euro guitar, one of the ones I played sounded and felt AMAZING. It's by Yamaha, but I can't remember what kind. I'll have to go back and check, then see if I might be able to find one in Munich for the same price.
Speaking of guitars and harmonicas, Joshua Gloster and I went out busking for the first time last night. First of all, we must have gone out at like 9 PM on a Wednesday. Let me tell you something. When's the last time you saw something that was empty? And I mean empty?You may be thinking to yourself: "why, surely he can't mean the streets were literally empty, i.e. devoid of all matter. That just wouldn't happen given the governing characteristics of density equilibrium in the universe, let alone on Schillerstrasse in Weimar." Well I'll have you know, sir or madam, that you're DEAD WRONG.
If I may introduce a picture to prove my point:
Even with the complete lack of matter and energy hanging around, Josh and I still managed to find a bench, play blues for 3 hours, and make 13 euros. And that brings me to my next point: The world needs more people like Anne Heisig. Who is that, you might ask?
It was dark. The road was a ribbon of moonlight tossed upon the purple moor leading to Weimar, Germany. Anne Luise Heisig was walking up the street. Her shadow played tirelessly in the empty store windows, fighting for space with the gnarled black cloaks cast by the willow trees overhead. Schillerstrasse is an empty place on a Wednesday night, but for Anne, it was just another evening. Except for one thing.
Without warning, the soft sounds of a blues guitar began to ring out in the distance. Anne's ears perked up. Was soll das denn? she thought to herself. Kein Musik gibt es auf Schillerstrasse, besonders nicht um mittwoch Abend! She increased her pace, her heart starting to pound. The sound of the music became louder. And then a second sound joined in: what sounded to Anne like a Hohner Blues Harp MS in the key of C (of course, modulated to G in cross-harp) playing over the guitar! Was ist das denn? Anne thought to herself. Das Geräusch... es klingt, als ob jemand einen Hohner Blues Harp MS spielt, C-Dur (natürlich ins G-Dur in Cross-harp umgewandelt). She walked faster.
And then... she saw them. Two dashing gentlemen, the one playing harmonica slightly more dashing and better-dressed, of course, and just an all-around great guy, playing the guitar and harmonica. Anne stopped walking. She let the sound of blues wash over her, creating a metaphor that would only be described and analyzed in a middle school literature book, the kind that the teacher would always leave in the desks so you wouldn't have to put them in your locker, but citing the excuse that the county just doesn't give the teachers enough literature books, and the ones they do have are in really bad condition anyway but the new edition is scheduled to come out next year so there's no point in buying a brand new set right now.
And then today was the train ride to Berlin. They say that in the first 7 seconds of meeting someone, you've already gotten a first impression. Well, in my first seven seconds in Berlin, I managed to get yelled at for talking about polka music, stand in the way of a train full of commuters, and agree to start drunken brawls in as many places as possible (double points for museums and art galleries). Oh, and tonight, we went to a cabaret.
Let's talk about that.
Now, for those of you who have not attended the... thing... I attended tonight, let me say that it opens up a whole new world of awesome. Imagine 8 French acrobats, a few ropes, a pulley system, a bunch of ribbons, and the world's greatest light and sound crew. Now throw in free drinks and a ridiculously emotional storyline, and you might come close to what I experienced tonight. It's amazing what a well-trained French acrobat girl can do with a rope hanging 40 feet from the ceiling.
Off to sleep now. I have to go on 12 tours in the next 3 days. I don't know if I'm annoyed or excited by that fact. Furthermore, Joey Slater is a super dude. Nothin' Better.
Aaaaaaaaand... first night in Berlin!
I'm staying in a hostel called East Seven. Like the name suggests, it's in a pretty bad section of East Berlin. Bad section as in don't go out alone bad. I'm considering taking the U-Bahn down to Schoenberg in a little bit to visit a friend of mine though. But it's okay, because the closest station is just two blocks away.
So, the music store affairs continued rather smoothly. I returned the next day and made sure NOT to ask the owner how he was doing. It worked out a lot better for me this time - he didn't seem to remember me from the previous day, and I more clearly clarified what I meant by "test out" the guitars. Apparently the owner thought I meant I wanted to meticulously look over every single one for dust and scratches. Which, on a normal day, I'd be absolutely fine with... but I was in a hurry that day. So I just bought a harmonica (Hohner Blues Harp MS, for those of you keeping score at home) and tested two of the guitars. Lemme tell you... for a 200 euro guitar, one of the ones I played sounded and felt AMAZING. It's by Yamaha, but I can't remember what kind. I'll have to go back and check, then see if I might be able to find one in Munich for the same price.
Speaking of guitars and harmonicas, Joshua Gloster and I went out busking for the first time last night. First of all, we must have gone out at like 9 PM on a Wednesday. Let me tell you something. When's the last time you saw something that was empty? And I mean empty?You may be thinking to yourself: "why, surely he can't mean the streets were literally empty, i.e. devoid of all matter. That just wouldn't happen given the governing characteristics of density equilibrium in the universe, let alone on Schillerstrasse in Weimar." Well I'll have you know, sir or madam, that you're DEAD WRONG.
If I may introduce a picture to prove my point:
Pictured: Schillerstrasse on a Wednesday night.
Even with the complete lack of matter and energy hanging around, Josh and I still managed to find a bench, play blues for 3 hours, and make 13 euros. And that brings me to my next point: The world needs more people like Anne Heisig. Who is that, you might ask?
It was dark. The road was a ribbon of moonlight tossed upon the purple moor leading to Weimar, Germany. Anne Luise Heisig was walking up the street. Her shadow played tirelessly in the empty store windows, fighting for space with the gnarled black cloaks cast by the willow trees overhead. Schillerstrasse is an empty place on a Wednesday night, but for Anne, it was just another evening. Except for one thing.
Without warning, the soft sounds of a blues guitar began to ring out in the distance. Anne's ears perked up. Was soll das denn? she thought to herself. Kein Musik gibt es auf Schillerstrasse, besonders nicht um mittwoch Abend! She increased her pace, her heart starting to pound. The sound of the music became louder. And then a second sound joined in: what sounded to Anne like a Hohner Blues Harp MS in the key of C (of course, modulated to G in cross-harp) playing over the guitar! Was ist das denn? Anne thought to herself. Das Geräusch... es klingt, als ob jemand einen Hohner Blues Harp MS spielt, C-Dur (natürlich ins G-Dur in Cross-harp umgewandelt). She walked faster.
And then... she saw them. Two dashing gentlemen, the one playing harmonica slightly more dashing and better-dressed, of course, and just an all-around great guy, playing the guitar and harmonica. Anne stopped walking. She let the sound of blues wash over her, creating a metaphor that would only be described and analyzed in a middle school literature book, the kind that the teacher would always leave in the desks so you wouldn't have to put them in your locker, but citing the excuse that the county just doesn't give the teachers enough literature books, and the ones they do have are in really bad condition anyway but the new edition is scheduled to come out next year so there's no point in buying a brand new set right now.
Anne took a seat on the bench across the street from the two buskers and listened for the next twenty minutes. By the time they ran out of awesome busking power, Anne was inspired. The guitar player, Josh, walked away to find a bathroom. Anne walked up to the harmonica player and asked to play a song with him. They played music for the next three hours. And made 13 euros. Not bad.
Man, for someone studying in Weimar, I certainly have a lot of traditionally American things in my possession.
Pictured: some of the things in my room.
And then today was the train ride to Berlin. They say that in the first 7 seconds of meeting someone, you've already gotten a first impression. Well, in my first seven seconds in Berlin, I managed to get yelled at for talking about polka music, stand in the way of a train full of commuters, and agree to start drunken brawls in as many places as possible (double points for museums and art galleries). Oh, and tonight, we went to a cabaret.
Let's talk about that.
Now, for those of you who have not attended the... thing... I attended tonight, let me say that it opens up a whole new world of awesome. Imagine 8 French acrobats, a few ropes, a pulley system, a bunch of ribbons, and the world's greatest light and sound crew. Now throw in free drinks and a ridiculously emotional storyline, and you might come close to what I experienced tonight. It's amazing what a well-trained French acrobat girl can do with a rope hanging 40 feet from the ceiling.
Off to sleep now. I have to go on 12 tours in the next 3 days. I don't know if I'm annoyed or excited by that fact. Furthermore, Joey Slater is a super dude. Nothin' Better.
Monday, June 14, 2010
She's Standing in her Underwear
Today I went out with two goals:
1. See what harmonicas are sold at Musikhaus Plickert.
2. Blend in.
Within about fourteen seconds of entering the store, I had almost ruined one of them, and completely annihilated the other. Here's about how it went:
(all dialogue in German)
Store owner: Hello.
Me: Hello, how are you?
BIG MISTAKE. No matter how many times I'm taught, I don't think I'll ever learn that it's not a good idea to ask someone in this country how they're doing. You see, in the good ol' USA, we're very well-versed in the art of "small-talk" (or in German, and I'm not kidding, "small talken"). However, here in Germany, it's all business, all the time. So even though we'd been over this very topic in class the entire week before, my automatic reaction to someone saying hi is to ask how they're doing. The instant this happened, I knew I had pretty much ruined any chance of blending in for today. So naturally, his reaction was to look at me like I was the most insane, unstable criminal on Earth.
Store owner: ...Uh.... I'm... doing alright. You doing okay?
Me: Er, yeah. Um, I'm looking for harmonicas.
Store owner: Oh, I have a Hohner at home.
Me: Oh, do you like it? (Note: I said "gefällt er Ihnen" which literally means "do you like him." This is because pronouns in German take the gender of whatever they're describing. I assumed "Hohner" was a masculine noun, because it ends it "er.")
Store owner: looks at me like I'm insane again What?
Me: Do you like it? (I used the neutral pronoun "es" this time.)
Store owner: The Hohner?
It continued like this for a few seconds, before I finally gave up and asked him stupidly if he liked harmonicas.
Me: So, I'm trying to do some research before I buy one. Have you got any?
Store owner: Yeah...?
Me: Could you show me some?
Store owner: ...Yes.
I walk over to the showcase with harmonicas in it. He stays completely where he is. Keep in mind that the showcase door is closed and the harmonicas are all in individual cases, where I can't see them.
Me: So... could I just, like, take one out?
Store owner: No. That's not a self-service case. That's for me to open.
Me: Okay.
We stand silent in the store for a second or two, then he slowly begins to walk over to the case. He opens it.
At this point, I basically felt embarrassed as I looked at the types of harmonicas inside their cases and wrote down their names and prices while he watched over me like a hawk.'
Me: Okay, thanks very much.
Store owner: Yeah. Is there anything else?
Me: Would be possible to test out some of those guitars? I'm semi-interested in buying one while I'm here.
Note: This is true. The acoustic guitars in the store are ridiculously cheap.
Store owner: Test one? No. You can buy one. You can't test one.
Me: O...kay.
I waited for a little bit just to see if he was kidding or something.
Me: Bye then.
I really don't know if I'm just an awful person or something. I'd love to know how I can not feel like a piece of scum when shopping for musical instruments. Oh well.
So today was the trip to Kahla GmbH. They make porcelain things. The process is crazy long. One of the machines that really impressed me was this robotic arm that handled and cleaned fragile porcelain cups. I feel that any attempt by me to do the same task would probably end up with an ocean of shattered porcelain flooding the factory in all directions. Just one cup. Conservation of matter doesn't apply to my breed of clumsiness.
I had a bunch more to say. It's too late now. I have a test tomorrow. More later.
1. See what harmonicas are sold at Musikhaus Plickert.
2. Blend in.
Within about fourteen seconds of entering the store, I had almost ruined one of them, and completely annihilated the other. Here's about how it went:
(all dialogue in German)
Store owner: Hello.
Me: Hello, how are you?
BIG MISTAKE. No matter how many times I'm taught, I don't think I'll ever learn that it's not a good idea to ask someone in this country how they're doing. You see, in the good ol' USA, we're very well-versed in the art of "small-talk" (or in German, and I'm not kidding, "small talken"). However, here in Germany, it's all business, all the time. So even though we'd been over this very topic in class the entire week before, my automatic reaction to someone saying hi is to ask how they're doing. The instant this happened, I knew I had pretty much ruined any chance of blending in for today. So naturally, his reaction was to look at me like I was the most insane, unstable criminal on Earth.
Store owner: ...Uh.... I'm... doing alright. You doing okay?
Me: Er, yeah. Um, I'm looking for harmonicas.
Store owner: Oh, I have a Hohner at home.
Me: Oh, do you like it? (Note: I said "gefällt er Ihnen" which literally means "do you like him." This is because pronouns in German take the gender of whatever they're describing. I assumed "Hohner" was a masculine noun, because it ends it "er.")
Store owner: looks at me like I'm insane again What?
Me: Do you like it? (I used the neutral pronoun "es" this time.)
Store owner: The Hohner?
It continued like this for a few seconds, before I finally gave up and asked him stupidly if he liked harmonicas.
Me: So, I'm trying to do some research before I buy one. Have you got any?
Store owner: Yeah...?
Me: Could you show me some?
Store owner: ...Yes.
I walk over to the showcase with harmonicas in it. He stays completely where he is. Keep in mind that the showcase door is closed and the harmonicas are all in individual cases, where I can't see them.
Me: So... could I just, like, take one out?
Store owner: No. That's not a self-service case. That's for me to open.
Me: Okay.
We stand silent in the store for a second or two, then he slowly begins to walk over to the case. He opens it.
At this point, I basically felt embarrassed as I looked at the types of harmonicas inside their cases and wrote down their names and prices while he watched over me like a hawk.'
Me: Okay, thanks very much.
Store owner: Yeah. Is there anything else?
Me: Would be possible to test out some of those guitars? I'm semi-interested in buying one while I'm here.
Note: This is true. The acoustic guitars in the store are ridiculously cheap.
Store owner: Test one? No. You can buy one. You can't test one.
Me: O...kay.
I waited for a little bit just to see if he was kidding or something.
Me: Bye then.
I really don't know if I'm just an awful person or something. I'd love to know how I can not feel like a piece of scum when shopping for musical instruments. Oh well.
So today was the trip to Kahla GmbH. They make porcelain things. The process is crazy long. One of the machines that really impressed me was this robotic arm that handled and cleaned fragile porcelain cups. I feel that any attempt by me to do the same task would probably end up with an ocean of shattered porcelain flooding the factory in all directions. Just one cup. Conservation of matter doesn't apply to my breed of clumsiness.
I had a bunch more to say. It's too late now. I have a test tomorrow. More later.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Pigeons Down on Market Square
June 12, 2010. Weimar, Germany.
It's a dark morning. The heavy clouds roll overhead toward the east as black birds take roost on lonely telephone lines. A soft, soft rain starts coming down, causing tiny ripples in the puddles on the side of the road. A set of bicycle tires flies across the surface. Two walls of water soar out in opposite directions. The bicycle is gone before the walls collapse.
Down the road, the bicyclist is pedaling as hard as possible. He flies heroically over twigs and leaves, his wake disturbing their relatively peaceful morning. With an upward push, he jumps over a small drainage ditch and lands with a small skid on the other side. He crests a hill and begins down the other side. The loose rocks and gravel make for a dangerous descent. A quick downshift and a tap of the rear brakes throws the back tire out beside him. He skids around a turn. He leaves a cloud of dust behind him as he speeds off into the wilderness.
The identity of this dashing, extremely attractive dude?
What a man. What a bicyclist. He's my hero.
Okay, so I wasn't alone for the ride. And it probably wasn't nearly as heroic as I made it out to be. But it certainly was a lot of fun. We rode about fifteen miles out to some lake in the middle of nowhere. The plan was to go swimming, but the it turned out the lake was far too dirty for anything (other than nightmares) to exist in it. So we rode back, but I stopped by a music store on the way. The plan for tomorrow is to get a harmonica and hit the streets with a guy named Bobby and his guitar. Tomorrow is when we start earning millions.
Anna Myer needs to use the sparse internet. I'm handing over the ethernet cable. More later.
It's a dark morning. The heavy clouds roll overhead toward the east as black birds take roost on lonely telephone lines. A soft, soft rain starts coming down, causing tiny ripples in the puddles on the side of the road. A set of bicycle tires flies across the surface. Two walls of water soar out in opposite directions. The bicycle is gone before the walls collapse.
Down the road, the bicyclist is pedaling as hard as possible. He flies heroically over twigs and leaves, his wake disturbing their relatively peaceful morning. With an upward push, he jumps over a small drainage ditch and lands with a small skid on the other side. He crests a hill and begins down the other side. The loose rocks and gravel make for a dangerous descent. A quick downshift and a tap of the rear brakes throws the back tire out beside him. He skids around a turn. He leaves a cloud of dust behind him as he speeds off into the wilderness.
The identity of this dashing, extremely attractive dude?
Okay, so I wasn't alone for the ride. And it probably wasn't nearly as heroic as I made it out to be. But it certainly was a lot of fun. We rode about fifteen miles out to some lake in the middle of nowhere. The plan was to go swimming, but the it turned out the lake was far too dirty for anything (other than nightmares) to exist in it. So we rode back, but I stopped by a music store on the way. The plan for tomorrow is to get a harmonica and hit the streets with a guy named Bobby and his guitar. Tomorrow is when we start earning millions.
Anna Myer needs to use the sparse internet. I'm handing over the ethernet cable. More later.
Friday, June 11, 2010
What's this "internet" thing I'm connected to?
So... strangest thing. For the last two days, I've been able to get fairly reliable internet access. In my room. Can you believe it? That's where I am now! Before the connection explodes, I'm gonna put up those pictures of the tortellini. Ready?
I had another picture, but I think Blogspot might have eaten it.
Anyway, remember how I said I said we'd see how those dark circles under my eyes would turn out? Well yesterday morning, out of nowhere, a blitzkrieg of congestion invade my nose like it was Poland in 1938. It was so sudden that I actually got shocked. Like, the kind of shocked that happens when a really loud noise happens right next to you. Except instead of a loud noise, it's a lot of mucus, and instead of right next to you, it's in your nose. But by the end of the day, it was gone. I'm pretty sure my nose just realized I was out of the country or something and decided to throw a hissy fit. But it got over it. We're fine now.
Let's see... Since my last post, I've taken two quizzes, and I got a 95 on one of them. The other one was taken this morning, so I don't know how I did yet. But I did have
OH HELLO DOGGIE DOG. YOU ARE A BIG DOGGIE. YES YOU ARE A BIG SWEET PUPPY DOGGIE. OH HELLO THERE.
That doggie let me pet him. He was a big sweetie. Anyway, like I was saying, I did have a presentation on Michael Schummacher today.
After school today, I went home and started farting around with the computer, trying to make the interface between the computer and the iPod better. I refuse to use iTunes, but in exchange for that, I have some ghetto methods for putting music on it. It seems to have to change every time I want to update my music. But I feel my iPod has character due to it. Well, after I had to wipe the iPod's harddrive of all the music and start re-adding it, I decided it was a good time to go for a walk.
So I stopped the transfer of songs, and I walked.
And I walked, and I walked, and I kept walking until I didn't know where I was, then I walked some more. And then the road turned into a field of wheat, and then the wheat field turned into a gravel path, and then that turned into a dirt path, and that turned into a muddy path, and eventually I found myself in the middle of a forest, but I kept walking. And that led me to a dirt road with a huge, towering railroad bridge overhead, probably about 200 feet. And at the base of the bridge, next to a pylon, was a memorial to a boy who died there some time ago. I had a moment of silence, and then I saw a "path" (I used this term in the loosest possible meaning) leading up to the top of the bridge. I put it in quotes because the angle of the path relative to the horizon was between 45 and 70 degrees all the way up. I had to hold onto narrow tree trunks going up it. It took me a few minutes, but I managed to make it up the 200 vertical feet to the top. And it was very much worth it.
The railroad bridge crossed over the river Ilm on the very east side of Weimar, going north-south. I started walking north over the bridge. The concrete turned into loose stones after I crossed it, and it started reminding me of the epic adventure I took with Joey Slater in Atlanta one day. I walked for about thirty minutes and eventually reached a railroad depot, at which point I decided I should probably get back to civilization. So I hopped a fence and found myself in the middle of a street in some suburb north of Weimar. After wandering around for a few minutes, I saw a sign that pointed me in the direction of something I recognized. And on the way there, I found a music store that had some super nice European harmonicas. Yeah, I need to get one.
I love getting lost.
Anyway, remember how I said I said we'd see how those dark circles under my eyes would turn out? Well yesterday morning, out of nowhere, a blitzkrieg of congestion invade my nose like it was Poland in 1938. It was so sudden that I actually got shocked. Like, the kind of shocked that happens when a really loud noise happens right next to you. Except instead of a loud noise, it's a lot of mucus, and instead of right next to you, it's in your nose. But by the end of the day, it was gone. I'm pretty sure my nose just realized I was out of the country or something and decided to throw a hissy fit. But it got over it. We're fine now.
Let's see... Since my last post, I've taken two quizzes, and I got a 95 on one of them. The other one was taken this morning, so I don't know how I did yet. But I did have
That doggie let me pet him. He was a big sweetie. Anyway, like I was saying, I did have a presentation on Michael Schummacher today.
After school today, I went home and started farting around with the computer, trying to make the interface between the computer and the iPod better. I refuse to use iTunes, but in exchange for that, I have some ghetto methods for putting music on it. It seems to have to change every time I want to update my music. But I feel my iPod has character due to it. Well, after I had to wipe the iPod's harddrive of all the music and start re-adding it, I decided it was a good time to go for a walk.
So I stopped the transfer of songs, and I walked.
And I walked, and I walked, and I kept walking until I didn't know where I was, then I walked some more. And then the road turned into a field of wheat, and then the wheat field turned into a gravel path, and then that turned into a dirt path, and that turned into a muddy path, and eventually I found myself in the middle of a forest, but I kept walking. And that led me to a dirt road with a huge, towering railroad bridge overhead, probably about 200 feet. And at the base of the bridge, next to a pylon, was a memorial to a boy who died there some time ago. I had a moment of silence, and then I saw a "path" (I used this term in the loosest possible meaning) leading up to the top of the bridge. I put it in quotes because the angle of the path relative to the horizon was between 45 and 70 degrees all the way up. I had to hold onto narrow tree trunks going up it. It took me a few minutes, but I managed to make it up the 200 vertical feet to the top. And it was very much worth it.
The railroad bridge crossed over the river Ilm on the very east side of Weimar, going north-south. I started walking north over the bridge. The concrete turned into loose stones after I crossed it, and it started reminding me of the epic adventure I took with Joey Slater in Atlanta one day. I walked for about thirty minutes and eventually reached a railroad depot, at which point I decided I should probably get back to civilization. So I hopped a fence and found myself in the middle of a street in some suburb north of Weimar. After wandering around for a few minutes, I saw a sign that pointed me in the direction of something I recognized. And on the way there, I found a music store that had some super nice European harmonicas. Yeah, I need to get one.
I love getting lost.
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