No One Would Riot For Less--Bright Eyes

Death may come invisible or in a holy wall of fire
In the breath between the markers on some black I-80 mile
From the madness of the governments to the vengeance of the sea
Everything is eclipsed by the shape of destiny

So love me now
Hell is coming
Kiss my mouth
Hell is here

Little soldier, little insect, you know war it has no heart
It will kill you in the sunshine or happily in the dark
Where kindness is a card game or a bent-up cigarette
In the trenches, in the hard rain, with a bullet and a bet

He says, "help me out"
Hell is coming
Could you do it now?
Hell is here

See the sterile soil,
Poisoned sky
Yellow water,
Final scraps of life
Bringing new tears

Wake, Baby, wake but leave that blanket around you there is no where as safe
I'm leaving this place but there is nothing I'm planning to take
Just you
Just you

Dreaming and Waking

The good ladies of the Schloss hosted a "Bier und Brez'n" to celebrate the start of the Easter holiday. Rachel and I waited impatiently for 4:15 to roll around to start the drinking after our kids had left the classroom. We walked down there, put our bags and coats down by everyone else's in true school fashion. All in a row against the wall of the Middle School auditorium and found our way to the kegs of Augustiner outside, got a pretzel and Obazter (a type of spiced cream cheese) and joined in the conversations of our colleagues. I started talking with Luke about his day and his stress over having lost his passport and the fact that he was catching a flight for Amsterdam the following morning. We had a few beers as teachers came and went, drank and ate. We pushed our departure time back more and more and finally decided to catch the 6:00 bus to the train station. We grabbed a few beers for the road (I took a mug as well) and head for the bus stop. We got home and Luke frantically searched for his passport. After a few stressful minutes, he found it and exalted his good fortune by announcing that he was going to buy me dinner and drinks, anywhere I wanted. We went to a great vegetarian restaurant, had dinner drinks and desert (tiramisu for me and mango creme brule for him) one of the best meals I've had in Munich. We were buzzed with the excitement of the holiday. We decided to go see a movie. We got back to the apartment, and found that There Will Be Blood was playing at my favorite theater in Munich, the Lichtspiele. We went back out to get on the train. We walked Hauptbahnhof and got off at Rosenheimerplatz. After walking around for a while, and going on my memory of the one time I had been there before, I finally broke down and asked in German where was the theater. I got only blank stares and muddled Denglisch directions. We finally found the theater, bought beers and sweet popcorn and walked into the dark, small theater. The movie was incredible. Made better by our buzzing, beer and popcorn. We laughed through the whole movie, even when no one else got it. We walked out of the theater screaming praises for the film, not necessarily shared by the Germans who watched it with us. We got back to Hauptbahnhof, still excited. I suggested more beers and Cafe Kosmos. Great idea! We met tons of cool people and I spoke almost exclusively in German. Conversational stuff...where are you from, what are you doing here, how do you like it, etc. I felt really good after getting complements on my German and actually being able to understand what everyone was saying, and even engaging someone in German without them switching over automatically to perfect English. The two girls we were talking to were cool, but after a while I told Luke we should go and after some coaxing, he came with me. He was catching a flight to Amsterdam in like 6 hours. We came back, I called my brother to talk about the movie and I went to bed. I felt good, I felt free. I felt like I was home and that living in Germany was not a challenge. It was just life and you can communicate with people if you want to and you can go see a movie like you could in the States and that this should never end. This utopian dream world or Munich as an American in modern times.

The next day, Good Friday, I woke up late and eventually made my way to my favorite coffee shop, walking through the freezing drizzle. I ordered a Mocha and a Blueberry muffin in German and was understood the first time through. Proud of myself that I communicated what I wanted and had great service with a smile on my face, I sat down, did a few crossword puzzles and read a little bit observing the people walking through the city in the rain, and felt comfortable in warm inside. I ordered a coffee to go and walked home. I heard groups of American tourists talking about learning their walks back to their hotels and laughed at the "likes" and "totallys" interspersed in their conversations. I felt for an instant that I should say, "Hey, you're American too, what's up? What are you, like, doing in Munich. Do you want to, like, get a beer?" But I kept walking letting them think that I was a normal born and raised resident of Munich out for a cup of coffee on my holiday. I wasn't born and raised here, but I still feel a part of this city. When I first got here, I was ashamed of being American. Not knowing the language and being clueless to the attitudes and customs of the city. But today, walking around in the shut down city, with the confidence to order coffee, start conversations with strangers and feel good about being American, living abroad, contributing to the city, I felt good. I felt home. I got an e-mail with a link to pictures of the house I might live in when I get home. Reality smacks me in the face and I'm reminded that this isn't forever, nothing is forever. As Reid told me, change is the only constant. Don't get used to this, buddy, cause you'll always wake up from your dreams eventually and you can only hope that you'll have that dream again because you can't make it last forever. Today, I had the first feelings of regret that I was going home and not staying another year. I can't make the dream last forever, but I could make it last another year. But here I am, living between sleeping and waking while the future approaches. That's okay for now. I rest assured knowing that I have people that love me on two continents now, that I have people to talk to when I need them, that people need me, that the future is wide open, that ordering coffee here makes me feel happy and that I've accomplished something, that music transports me to different times and places and makes me smile, that I can drink coffee and read on the train ride to work and all I see is poetry and future chapters in books unwritten, that my grandfather was here 60 years ago making life better for the world and that the route I take to get to the coffee shop is the route that he took when Munich was first liberated, that he stood in Marienplatz listening to the national anthem blasting while American and British soldiers stood with tears in their eyes and a world-wide horror was ended. I walk to get my coffee as tourists stand amazed, taking pictures of the Neues Rathaus and the Frauenkirche. If this is a dream, please don't wake me and if this is life, I never want to go to sleep.

Thoughts on Amsterdam

I sat in the smoky coffee shop and espied my reflection in the mirror facing the dimly-lit street. Smoked rose in layers illuminated by the candles. I felt like I was sitting in a speak easy in the 30's. Sneaking away from our dull, monotonous lives and stepping into a safe house. Full of people all in on the big secret. Walking through the streets, you hear the drum and bass rather than the trills of trumpets and flute floating through the air. The whole thing would seem so sleazy, but you become apart of that scene, that culture as soon as you walk in the door. It's like giving in to sin and never looking back. There's no reason to stand on the border, so why not choose one side or the other. Giving in is so much easier and disciple, self-restraint and moderation cease to be an issue of moral conscience. As I sat there, I wondered if other people feel the same way. Perhaps they don't see it as being so romantic. Coffee shops may be just a place to get high. As if they would walk in to have a cup of coffee in the morning. Or maybe it's like shine runners in the South. But I guess no one's ever romanticized that life, except the Duke's of Hazard. I can see why the States are so reluctant to legalize. It may not increase the number of users, it will increase the number of people who are exposed to it, making it impossible to deny how many people are using it. If all the people that smoke pot in the states did it in public everynight, instead of in the their homes, it would look like Amsterdam. I can't help but get nostalgic about this city. It's like the Europe that I dreamed of, but didn't see much of in Bavaria. It's the Europe that will always have the most beautiful, romantic vision of for the rest of my life. It's like the way Disney World will always perfect in my mind, because those vacations are some of my best memories of growing up. The music sounds newer here, fresher.

Die Kinder

Funny quotes/questions from kids
When discussing the dinosaurs and the origins of humans:
K: When did people make the earth?
Me: People didn't make the earth, the earth made people.
K: But where did we come from?
Me: That's a hard question to answer.
K: Maybe I'll ask God.
Me: Yeah, he might know.
K: I know! When I fly to Dubai this week and I'm above the clouds I can ask him then.
Me: Good idea.

E: We need to send them back to the girl store!

One of my German kids brought in a map of the train system in Munich. He said it was his toy. We ask him questions about how to get from one place to another in the city. Like from Starnberg (where we work) to the Tierpark (zoo). "Take the S6 to Marienplatz and take the 52 bus to Tierpark. Or...(an alternate route). Then a few days later, he brought in a poster-size map, the kind you see on the trains. He said he asked for it at the train station.

When we were learning about shapes, we made snowmen out of 2D shapes. Circles, triangles, etc. My kid from South Africa made his snowman with a big clock necklace. We asked him why and he said it's like Flava Flav. We told him we thought something was missing and he said "Oh yeah!" went back to his table and drew silver grills on his snowman. And for his "What I did on the holiday" journal entry. He drew a picture of Optimus Prime, since he had watched Transformers on the way to South Africa on the plane. I took one look at the picture and said "oh, that's a good pic..." Then I saw it. He had drawn a little penis on Optimus Prime. I trailed off, in between a suppressed laugh and pure shock. I said, "You need to show that to Miss Jackson." She, in all her experience and professional wisdom, looked at it with a straight face and said "I don't like that picture." He went back to his table and de-sexed Optimus Prime.

108 posts (pt. 2)

I walked around the lake and stopped at various points to look at the ducks, or the landscape or look back around and see how far I'd come. I looked at the amazing houses with the huge backyards and private docks with old railroad tracks leading into the lake for boat loading. People in their backyards sunning themselves. I passed a Kinder Spielplatz I guess it was kinda like a park that can be rented out for parties. They had a tepee and trampoline and a picture on the door of one of those big parachute things that I loved playing with as a kid. I finally decided it was time to either turn back, or sit and write for a bit. When I set out in the morning, I realized, I had only brought a red pen. So when I sat down at the best possible spot I could have found, I found myself without the ability to take a picture or sketch my view. I was forced to only use my words to describe it. I wrote that the mountains remind me of mythical times when soldiers set off on quests that were doomed to fail. Mountains filled to the brim with the unknown. Dark corners and caves, filled with treasure, beasts, dragons, death, hope, life, witches and strangers waiting to jump out from the shadows and rob you and trick you. Places that only exist in stories that no one cares about any more unless they're produced by Disney, places that no one fears any more because nothing is unknown. Everything is linked up by satellite and GPS and GoogleEarth, every inch of the Earth has been trodden upon by humans and documented and studied and all mystery has been destroyed by Wikipedia and scientific inquiry. I wrote that the dock silhouetting the mountains seemed out of place. Viewing an old wooden dock and snow-capped mountains seemed impossible. The angled wood, mirrored by the crystal lake making zig-zags that quaver in the reflection of the water and disappear into the blue void. The water itself was every possible color of blue. Reflecting the cloud-pocked sky, the blue trees on the surrounding hills, the misty mountains obscured by distance and the pre-dusk haze. Ducks dove for fish, making ripples in the water. Some, flying just above the surface of the lake. A church directly across from me solidified my mythical sensibility. None of this a camera or a picture could have captured. I walked back to reality, the city, the internet, phones and technology. I had a chocolate ice cream, took in more of the idyllic scene and felt part of a Manet painting.
Sunday I woke up around noon, had some breakfast and headed out to catch the end of the St. Patrick's Day parade. Bagpipes and drums. People drinking Irish beer and sporting patriotic green. I had a Guinness and a Kilkenny and a steak simmel and decided it was time for tea, or a nap. Turns out, I had both. I met up with Leah and Luke at Schneider Weiss for dinner and beer. I had Obazter with two brezen. Exactly what I needed. Afterwards, we went to an outdoors bar with heaters right next to the Frauenkirche where we had gone last week. We had a great time and on the way back, I showed them the plaque on the wall saying where the composer Richard Strauss was born. It's now an office building for a department store. Another reminder of the effects of the war.
Monday, I went to Leah's and had a few Irish beers to celebrate St. Patrick's Day (again). We talked about writing, what we wanted about life and our realization of what we actually have. Great jobs, apartments in the middle of one of the best cities to live in Germany, the ability to travel all over Europe, cheaply and easily. I told her about my writing about the lake on Saturday. That's when she brought up her writing. She said she didn't feel like she was writing that much. Meaning, not writing short stories or novels, etc. But she had 108 blog posts. I told her that artists, like Rembradt, need little practices like that. That's why they have notebooks full of drawings of hands or eyes or shoulders. So that he has at least that one body part perfected for the time when he was to make a painting the size of a small bus. My grandfather once told me when I told him I was interested in writing that I should practice describing the corner of a room. Instead, I practiced describing an Alpine lake in Bavaria. I think after a while, we agreed that life is good here. What more could you want out of life...except for everything.

108 posts (pt. 1)

Inspired by Leah's 108 postings and our long conversation last night about the importance of practicing writing, I thought it was time for another post. Saturday morning, I woke up around 8:30, for whatever reason. I went into the kitchen in search of food and found dishes that Luke had left from his 5:00am midnight snack. As I was washing them, I wondered if he had had my orange juice with the meal...I wasn't surprised. Anyways, I decided to make a big day of it. I was awake, it was a nice day out, I was planning on going to Salzburg, as I do just about every other weekend, but never do. So, I went to a local coffee shop that I've been meaning to go to for a while, called the Sip and Dip. I went in, got a Latte Macchiato and the man behind the counter asked me if I wanted it for here or to go in what sounded like American English. I stayed there and read for about 30-40 minutes then got up to ask where the bathroom was (In German) and, in response, I got "Oh, we don't have a bathroom" in English. Hmm... I thought. How curious. An American-run coffee shop with no toilet. I shrugged and was on my way, through the bustling city in search of a toilet. If you're ever desperate for a toilet in Munich, you can always find one in the main train station. However, remember that the air will be thick with the smell of urine, worse than at Oktoberfest. So, after that ordeal, I decided to go to Hersching, by Ammersee. It's on the S-bahn line, so it would be free and only about an hour away. I bought some Brezen sticks and a pack of turkey and Apfelschorle and really good chocolate and got on the train.
I was amazed by the different stops. I take the S6 to and from school everyday so have pretty much memorized the names of all the stops. So, hearing different, exotic names was a breath of fresh air. The views were much nicer too. Farms, mostly surrounded by forests with glimpses of the Alps farther down the line.
I got off the train and felt the warm wind brush past my face, uplifting after the stifling train ride. I walked around the corner, following all the people and there it was, a pristine mountain lake. It couldn't have been more perfectly European. People, young and old, enjoying every aspect of the moment. People on bikes, kids playing by the water, everyone with ice cream, coffee shops, Biergartens, accordion players, hikers, people just sitting on benches with their eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the sound of sea gulls and the music of the wind. I sat and had a turkey pretzel and some chocolate and started walking around the lake.

fier Tagen ohne Zigaretten

It's been four days since I've had a cigarette. How am I doing? Not too terrible. I don't know what all the fuss about quitting is. I haven't really been stressed out or angry. Maybe people just use it as an excuse to be an ass-hole to everyone, as if it was there fault that they started smoking in the first place. It's amazing how quickly I forget what it feels like to not smoke. I guess there's this fear of what it will do to you if you don't have a cigarette at a certain time. Right after work, cup of tea, favorite album, book, sitting on the windowsill staring at the darkening sky. With a beer, walking through the city. Mid-afternoon on the weekend, letting the sun warm my face with a cup of coffee in my pajamas before my flatmates get up. All of those moments that you think you can't live without. After four days, it's hard to imagine that I ever did. I'm sure I'll have at least one more before I die.
Saturday is my birthday and as much as I've tried to hide it, people have found out. I'll be 24. That seems really old to me, but I've really only just started everything. I've gotten through the angst of High School, survived the fun of college, and am in the midst of the post-college-working-day blues still trying to fight being a sell-out and trying desperately to remain cool. People say that the music you listen to in college is what you'll listen to for the rest of your life. Maybe the music that you listen to straight out of college sticks with you more though. I can see myself at 30 putting on Neon Bible on vinyl in my apartment in wherever I end up. I feel musically stifled here. I used to hear and talk about new music all the time at the coffee shop. Always getting into new things. I've found Deezer.com which has a rock radio player. Right now I'm listening to a song called "Alcohaulin' Ass" by Hell Yeah. It's not perfect, but they do play Cake and the Doors and all of the random songs and bands that I would never listen to independently.
The quest for the future continues. I've realized that maybe it's best to live first (do the things that make you happy) and worry about what you "do" for a living later. I mean, work doesn't define who you are and what kind of difference you make in the world. I do care about what I do here. I think it's important that kids get a good education and that it's not done by crazy, conservative women. But, I don't think I'm the best person for that job. But the important thing about life is not what you do to make money, it's what you do with it after you leave work. Piss it away on booze, hoping to get laid, or maybe even make a connection with another person? Spend it on drugs in order to wrap yourself in the warm, numbness of unreality, watching movies, escaping the harsh life of suburban destruction? Save it for the rainy day that comes the day after you die? Travel, see the world, hobbies, books, music, furniture, video games, food, sex? For now, that's what I'm focusing on. I feel good. I haven't smoked in four days. We'll see how it goes. I'll write more when I'm twenty-four.