Easy/Lucky/Free

I sat on the window sill, leaning against the window, facing the opposite of normal way. I saw a completely new and inspiring view. The apartment window lights turned on and off as the shadows of people appeared ghost-like against the glow of the lamps. Above the buildings, a mushroom of clouds crept forward, dark and menacing. Flashes of lightning caught my eye, inside the clouds, flashing without thunder, as if it were a secret. The usual city noises drowned out by the desperate alcoholic lyrics of Bright Eyes' Digital Ash in a Digital Urn. I drank my iced coffee and smoked a cigarette feeling lonely and happy to be so. Silent moments alone are hard to come by living in a small apartment with two other people. Moments I share only with the music and the consoling smoke.

The apartment feels haunted. Silence and darkness fill the gaps between thought and daydreams of going home. Of not wanting to let this end, of wishing so badly I could share a beer with my dad and talk for three days straight and say all the things I've ever wanted to say to him since I've been here. I'm reminded of my first few weeks here. When the reality of what I'd gotten myself into set in. Buying lederhosen and going to Oktoberfest and being introduced to the city which would soon become my best friend. I walked through the cold streets of Munich and found solace with the people I passed by that I would never know. I felt liberated and frightened knowing that I couldn't speak to them. I was nervous whenever I had to speak German, even to ask for a coffee or a pastry.

The apartment is still dark and the last bits of light from the sun fade to the new lights of the flourescent bulbs lighting the streets below. Flashes of gold appear on the sides of the buildings, cars driving by, an ambulance screams somewhere, echoing through the streets making it impossible to discern exactly how far away it actually is. Poetic thoughts dance like moths batting against a light in an endless sea of darkness. These Saturday nights when the air is cool and dry make me forget about the dismal, cold winter when light was so hard to see and tunnel seemed eternal. I feel godless and unforgettable. I feel jittery from the coffee and wonder at the possibilities of the night in a city. I've never lived in a place with so many people everywhere. Solitude in Virginia is an underused country road and music blasting out the noise of the old, creaking trees, the chirping crickets and the faint twitterings of birds. Nights where you can hear a car driving down the interstate 10 miles away and the roar of a plane engine sounds like thunder.

I want it to rain all the time. It's the feeling of wanting something to happen. The impending storm that finally breaks and a miralce happens, breaking the routine of clear skies and occasional drifting clouds that never cease to come from beyond the horizon.

The days are hot and long. I don't mind sweating all day if only I could feel the breeze blowing through the windows to cool my face and reassure me. The summer brings me hope and inspiration. These are the days that we live for. To suffer through the cold and dark winters, lighting our world up for a few weeks in December to get us through the rest of the winter is all we can do. Then the world lights itself again and we remember which colors exist besides the spectrum of greys and browns that bespeckle the winter.
did it all get real, i guess it's real enough
they got refrigerators full of blood
another century spent pointing guns at anything that moves
sometimes i worry that i've lost the plot
my twitching muscles tease my flippant thoughts
i never really dreamed of heaven much until we put him in the ground
but it's all i'm doing now
listening for patterns in the soundof an endless static sea
but once the satellite's deceased
it blows like garbage through the streets
of the night sky to infinity
but don't you weep (don't you weep for them)
there is nothing as luckydon't you weep
there is nothing as lucky, as easy, or free
don't be a criminal in this police state
you better shop and eat and procreate
you got vacation days then you might escape
to a condo on the coasti set my watch to the atomic clock
i hear the crowd count down 'til the bomb gets dropped
i always figured that there'd be time enough
i never let it get me downbut i can't help it now
looking for faces in the cloudsi got some friends i barely see
but we're all planning to meetwe'll lay in bags as dead as leaves
all together for eternity
but don't you weep
there is no one as lucky
honey, don't you weep
there is nothing as lucky, as easy, or free

Top Albums of All Time

Green Day-Kerplunk and Dookie
Grateful Dead- Workingman's Dead
Pink Floyd-Dark Side of the Moon
Little Feat-Let it Roll
Bush-Sixteen Stone
Oasis-(What's the Story) Morning Glory
Alanis Morrisette-Jagged Little Pill
Phish-Lawn Boy
Third Eye Blind-Third Eye Blind
Weezer-Pinkerton
Dave Matthews Band-Under the Table and Dreaming
John Mayer-Room For Squares
Beck-Odelay
Wilco-Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
Eminem-The Marshall Mathers LP
Crosby Stills and Nash-Deja Vu
Neil Young-Harvest/After the Gold Rush
Moby-Play
Smashing Pumpkins-Siamese Dream
The Beatles-The Beatles
Arcade Fire-Funeral/Neon Bible
Bright Eyes-I'm Wide Awake It's Morning/Digital Ash in a Digital Urn
Paul Simon-Still Crazy After All These Years
Beach Boys-Pet Sounds
Radiohead-OK Computer/Kid A
Coldplay-A Rush of Blood to the Head
Guster-Lost and Gone Forever
Tool-Aenima
Rage Against the Machine-Evil Empire
Ryan Adams-Gold
Wilco-Sky Blue Sky
Led Zeppelin-II
Allman Brothers-Brothers and Sisters

*A note on the list: These are not the best albums of all time, nor most influential. But they've been there for me whenever I need them. To reminisce, to escape, to remember why I listen to music. If there's any that I've forgotten, leave a comment and I'll consider adding it.

Musik

Luke stopped by my classroom to tell me of his latest discovery on npr.org/music. It was called DeVotchKa. I listened to it for a while in between classes and decided almost instantly that I didn't like it. I talked to him about it later and we started building our own musical genome. Why do certain people like certain types of music. How can I listen to a band for five minutes and immediately dismiss it? Why does my brother love Pantera, Aimee Mann, Brian Wilson, Ben Gibbard and Soulfly? Why do people like Sigor Ros? I told him that the reason I think I like the music that I do is because of probably 90% nurture and 5% nature, 4% random chance with a 1% margin of error.

My mom used to listen to the oldies station whenever we went anywhere. The Doors, the Beatles, the Beach Boys, the Supremes, the Four Tops, James Brown, Marvin Gaye, the Platters, etc. By the time we were ten, we could sing the chorus to Aretha Franklin's "Respect" and the whistling part to "Sitting on the Dock of the Bay." I think the Beach Boys was my favorite band. And still is up there, in the top 20 or so.

My dad listened to the opposite end of the spectrum, not opposite but pretty far on the other side. Crosby Stills and Nash, Traffic, Grateful Dead, Little Feat...well, Grateful Dead and Little Feat, mostly. My favorite song was "Let it Roll" by Little Feat off the album of the same name. I must have worn a hole in the tape on that song. It was the first song for which I'd memorized all the words. There's still something about listening to that album and driving that brings back the greatest memories of driving up to the cabin with my dad and brother. Sitting in the back seat, eating skittles and drinking Mountain Dew while my dad drank coffee and smoked cigarettes with the window down and the cold air blowing in across my face. For me, the journey there, listening to music, feeling cool with my dad and brother, was better than actually getting to the cabin to go fishing.

So my music genome is nothing but straight-up pop and soul. Everything I've ever liked has been based on the early blues, soul, R&B, pop, and rock and roll. Rock & Roll. Nothing could possibly be better for me. Give me a guitar riff, chord progressions, verse, verse, bridge, chorus, guitar solo! chorus, elongated ending or repeated and faded guitar riff with repeating choruses! oh! What could be better? In short, Nothing. So when I hear something like DeVotchKa or Sigor Ros, I hear beauty, but it makes me uncomfortable, in a bad way. It just doesn't sit well with me. The rhythm is too erratic (if there is a beat), it's a symmetrical, and the chord progressions don't match my natural biorhythm. If all you listened to since birth was rock and roll, you may not turn out to be a genius, like if you listened to Mozart, but you may turn out to become an intellectual who must constantly search out new and challenging ideas or bands or authors.l The steady, sometimes unexpected changes of rock and roll and the thump of a bass drum in time with the thumping of a guitar layered with guitar riffs and leads will never get old. It will continue to change and evolve into newer, more extreme levels. It will inspire kids to question things, question their parents, religion, teachers, authority. It will make them feel cool, it will be there for them when they get dumped, when they get drunk for the first time, when they smoke cigarettes or watch a Rated R movie, it will always be there to pick up the pieces of whatever is broken in their life. The music will always change, and thank god for that! but what won't change is the effect it will always have on impressionable youth.

The greatest thrill for me is hearing a band that makes feel like I'm hearing Green Day for the first time. Crunchy distorted guitar and incoherent lyrics. I didn't really know what their songs were about when I was 11, but I loved it. I remember the Kurt Loder interview on MTV with Beavis and Butt-head, when asked what kind of music they liked and they replied, "stuff that's cool." "And what's cool?" "Stuff we like." And so on. There a lot of truth to that, although it came from two animated characters, one of whom was named Butt-head. I mean, "types" of music are only in place so record stores know where to put an album and we know where to look for it. When asked what type of music I listen to, I've learned simply to say "Rock and Roll." Because, honestly, what else is there? It is the all-encompassing term for everything that rocks and everything that soothes and comforts you and tells you that no matter how shitty your life is, the guy on this record has it so much worse...but gives you hope because you know that if he can find a way to express himself and ease his mind, you can too...right? Couldn't anyone pick up the guitar, string some chords together and make a pop song?

I heard the guys from the National all worked for DotCom companies in Silicon Valley, formed a band and went on tour. Dave Matthews worked at a bar and lived in a small town outside of Charlottesville, VA. Sufjan Stevens doesn't own a guitar. Jon Bonham's drum solo on Moby Dick was his second take. This is my mythology.

My Music Genome is straight-forward and I could draw a music tree, linking all of the bands I've gotten into and why and who. There would be four great technological revolutions for me. Starting with my parents' car radios, my first Walkman and Green Day's "Kerplunk!" Then there was the CD player and the 90's British invasion...Bush and Oasis. Then about 300 CDs later, music became synonymous with the Internet and nothing has been the same since.

But for now, my heart beats and my fingers unconsciously tap out the rhythm to "Gold Mine Gutted" by Bright Eyes, my eyes blink in unison to the beat of "No Cars Go" by Arcade Fire and my mind is constantly cycling through the sad and euphoric lyrics of thousands of rock and roll songs that regulate my metabolism.

"Time to Pretend"-MGMT

I'm feeling rough, I'm feeling raw, I'm in the prime of my life.
Let's make some music, make some money, find some models for wives.
I'll move to Paris, shoot some heroin, and fuck with the stars.
You man the island and the cocaine and the elegant cars.

This is our decision, to live fast and die young.
We've got the vision, now let's have some fun.
Yeah, it's overwhelming, but what else can we do.
Get jobs in offices, and wake up for the morning commute.

Forget about our mothers and our friends
We're fated to pretend
To pretend
We're fated to pretend
To pretend

I'll miss the playgrounds and the animals and digging up worms
I'll miss the comfort of my mother and the weight of the world
I'll miss my sister, miss my father, miss my dog and my home
Yeah, I'll miss the boredem and the freedom and the time spent alone.

There's really nothing, nothing we can do
Love must be forgotten, life can always start up anew.
The models will have children, we'll get a divorce
We'll find some more models, everything must run it's course.

We'll choke on our vomit and that will be the end
We were fated to pretend
To pretend
We're fated to pretend
To pretend

Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah

MGMT

I bought two tickets for Rachel and I weeks ago for this gig. I had seen their video on MTV Deutschland and liked them immediately. It seemed like a revival of the energy of the sixties- creative, free, brightly-colored, a gigantic cat that a man could ride on, but without it sounding cheesy or pretentious. In fact, they are very sincere. So, Monday afternoon came and Rachel decided that, because she has a new puppy and she's concerned about her landlord finding out she has a dog in the building, she's spending the week in Augsburg...so, the ticket went to Luke who had been telling himself that he was going to buy his ticket for this show, but hadn't yet.

So on Monday after school, I got home, cleaned up a little bit and looked at stuff on the internet. Luke got home and we smoked. It was getting close to 8 and we realized we didn't have time to cook dinner, so we went out. We knew that the gig was on Sonnenstrasse, not 10 minutes-walk from our flat. So, we weren't worried about being late, considering most German gigs start late and have an opening act. We walked through the city talking about the usual petty item argued about I finally say stop talking about it, it's over. We kept walking past old Bavarian restaurant, including the Alteshackerhaus and the other place that's supposedly the oldest bierhall in Munich. We breeze past all of these, only to find ourselves at a place that I was a bit reluctant to go to. It's called Tuscado Moreno. We went there before and Rachel and Luke got steaks, I got chicken fajitas.

We sat outside and I could see the Altespeterkirche, or the Old St. Peter's Cathedral behind Luke. We stared at the menus for at least 10 minutes, ordered our beers and finally decided on the Tuscado Platter (or something like that). It included two spare ribs, two steaks, two pieces of Turkey, and two schwein steaks, plus potato wedges, home fries, grilled vegetables and two cobs of corn. I doubted our abilities to eat that much meat and still rock out at the gig. We ate and ate. By the end, all of the food was gone except half of the schwein and the mixed vegetables. I was full and content and not at all concerned about making it to the gig. I almost asked what time it was, until I looked up at the two enormous clocks on top of the church tower. It was almost 9 and the gig started at 8. Surely the supporting act would be over at this point.

We headed out in a hurry, still not sure exactly where the venue was. We walked down Sonnenstrasse, turned right and in that passage, completely devoid of people or music or anything except posters advertising MGMT playing in Georg Elserhalle at 9:30, we found the venue, 59 to1. We had just been there two nights ago for Vampire Weekend. We decided to take the train from Karlsplatz to Odeonsplatz, rather than Hauptbahnhof. Luke said that Hauptbahnhof was the work station, Karlsplatz is the concert station. Whatever. But first, we must smoke more. I told Luke we had plenty of time. It's only 9 o'clock now. "We're fine, don't worry!" We smoked and were out again in a flash. So we got on the train and played "spot the German." That's when you slyly point out people who are so obviously German you could spot them from a mile away. Including large mustaches (on both men and women), leather vests, jackets or hats, mullets, someone driving a BMW, etc. We got off the train feeling full and relaxed and bitched about the walk there. We passed the poster for the ManOwar gig that's coming up. With Ted Nugent, Whitesnake, Iron Maiden, etc. We got to the venue, the right venue, probably around 10 o'clock. There were tons of people standing around outside, drinking and smoking, there was no music playing and the house lights were on. Luke starts saying that we've missed it, "Gutted man, we missed it!" "I think it's just after the opening band, we're fine, we're fine" Which I'd been saying for over an hour. Like I said, I was full of food and unconcerned about actually making it to the gig. All of the meat and beer had left me in an apathetic euphoria. We got inside and it became clear that no one was actually leaving. We had made it. Righ--beers.
We got two cold beers which tasted great after walking for so long in the warm evening. That first one didn't last long enough, so right before the band went on, we got back in line for beers. The crowd was unusual like most indy gigs in Germany. You never really know who's going to show up. Old bikers with bad hair and tattoos, young hipsters, even younger teeny-boppers (there were a lot of them...but kudos for them for teeny-bopping a cool band). The house lights went out as Luke struggled to get any attention at the bar. I watched the barmaids take four full half-liter beers, lay four cups on the counter, spread out the four beers, putting a cup at the top of each one, lift and pour four perfect beers at the same time. That's worth the price of admission.

The band came on and started playing "Weekend Wars." The lead singer was dressed in a red lacy shirt/dress that was open at the chest revealing is lack of chest hair and his youth. He must have been 18 or19. The band had a good energy. Ben Goldwasser's eyes were piercing and intense, yet calm and placid as he sang his songs and played his guitar with equal ferocity and placidity. The music was loud, but it gave me a reason to relax and dance and smile as the endless possibilities of music opened in front of me. "Time to Pretend" came on and I rushed forward in the chaos of all of the young Germans dancing and pumping their fists. Germans might say something to you if you push in front of them, put they normally don't push back. It's usually quite easy to get to the front. I was standing, staring in awe at the lead singer, his Gibson Les Paul shining and brilliant in the stage lights. He looked like the ghost of some good-natured rock star from the sixties who worshiped Jimi Hendrix and channeled Jim Morrison but doing as naturally as if it were just a part of his nature.

The solos were spot on and face melting. "Handshake" was definitely a highlight for me. The whole show was great, revealing the potential of a band as fresh and untouched as a virgin in Alabama. Naive and clueless, yet focused and beautiful--a child of nature, a child of the 60's reborn in a time more like the 60's than any other decade since. A nation at war; people fighting of the right to marry unconventionally; a new, fresh presidential candidate at the forefront of a tumultuous and youth-driven election; the music industry collapsing in front of us and destroying everything we thought we knew about information and democratically spreading ideas more freely than ever. This is a time of flux, the difference being that it's not just change for America, but for the entire world. We're too connected as a human species to not be affected by everyone else. And the music brought that all back to me. This sense of connectedness with everyone and everything around me--lost in a guitar solo, sweating with a mass of humanity, swirling smiles and screaming teenagers, I saw it all. And then it was over. They ended the set with a club song. The two singers singing repetitively to a fixed beat, dancing and waving their arms on stage like Run DMC. The crowd went crazy and we danced until they left the stage.

Sweaty and pumped, we walked out. We both got outside and did the "Woah man! That was incredible!" thing and then we got more beer for the walk and train ride home. We went to the train station and got on the S-Bahn and realized that we were on the wrong train a second later. Fuck. We would have to wait at some shitty S-bahn station in bum-fuck Munich for like 10 minutes. We got off the train and stood in the florescent buzz of the silent station. No one was there. We decided to take the opportunity to walk on the train tracks. We tried to walk on the rails like a balance beam and laughed when we stumbled and fell onto the cross ties. The train finally came and we silently got on. We were taken down a notch by the boredom of the station, but still in high spirits. We rode back with our legs stretched out and our eyes glazed and staring fifteen miles away.

We got off at Karlsplatz feeling better to be back in the city and off the train. Luke suggested Burger King. I'm usually adamantly against fast food, but sometimes the power of suggestion overcomes my opposition. He wanted chicken nuggets, he got a chicken sandwich because they couldn't make chicken nuggets at 1 am. I noticed the pathetic looking man who plays the violin outside of the Burger King that I see everyday on my way to get groceries. He walked in the restaurant and went straight upstairs, ignoring the two chairs placed in front of the stairs to prevent people from going up. My curiosity about this man was growing. I too ignored the chairs and went up as well. I looked around and didn't see him. I looked around every corner and still no old man. I was on my way down and he came out of some back doorway, eyes downcast as always, ignoring me. I walked down the stairs feeling a little bit guilty for intruding on what little private space he has left in the world. I marveled at the tolerance of the Burger King, allowing him to come and go as he pleased, begging in front of their restaurant.

Luke and I and the chicken sandwich and the small Coke, started walking home. We finished the sandwich with about 3 bites each and went home. The magic was over and we were back in the boring flat with the Ikea furniture we hate and faced the reality of going to work the next day. It's hard living like a rockstar when you have to go to work everyday. We do our best though...and anyway, we're all "fated to pretend."

Shipment

I knew it was coming. I knew that sometime, some day, I would get a phone call. The man on the phone would tell me that the time has come for me to pack away my life and send it to America where it will be waiting for me upon my return home. Which will leave me with just enough clothes for the remaining five weeks that I'll be here. And the questions...how can I make this happen? What can I keep? How can I live without my guitar for five weeks? I have to wash all of my clothes. It's been 6 weeks. All of my winter clothes need to be packed and sent home. But I don't have any spring clothes. Am I really going home?

The weather here is beautiful. It's hot and hazy. The nights are warm with a nice breeze blowing through the wide streets. Everyone is sitting outside, drinking beer, wine, latte machiatto. Walking their dogs, holding hands, flowers blooming, birds singing and bands are playing. To ignore the looming truth of my departure, luckily, there have been two concerts in one weekend. Friday was Vampire Weekend, and last night, Monday was MGMT. But more on those later. I find myself in a state of happiness that only comes with the warm breeze and days oozing into night later and later. I'm filled with optimism and brimming with hope for the future. The next seven weeks are mine and life here is full of possibilities. Oh, and I also finished His Dark Materials. :)

We went to See "In Bruges" last night. After a long, but ill-fated debate whether to see "Sex in the City" or not. I was not entirely opposed to it, but Luke put up a pretty strong fight. Turns out it wasn't even playing, so it was "In Bruges." Bruges is a small town in Belgium famous for its "fairy tale" atmosphere, ancient gothic churches and canals. I was glad we saw it when we were in Europe. I felt like I could understand Collin Ferrel's character's dilemma. His partner in crime, Ken loves the city. He carries around a tourists' guide to the city and drags his friend all over the city looking at crypts and tombs and old buildings. I mused later that when I first got to Europe, I wanted to see all the touristy stuff. Munich is a bit "fairy tale"-ish as well. But soon, the charm wore off and I found myself sitting at home relaxing and enjoying my time off without the pressure of going to see every little tourist attraction in the city. But, you know, after 9 months or so, there's not much more to see. Except for maybe the Hunting and Fishing Museum, or the Toy Museum. As we were walking from the theater, Luke took us the wrong way, but no one seemed to mind to much. The air was damp and clean from the rain earlier and the city was alight. We wandered past breweries and famous biergartens until we found ourselves in front of an imposing Romanesque structure. Huge columns, and archway from some dead kings reign. A monument to himself, alleviating his fear of mortality. We climbed the huge steps and looked around. There was a homeless couple obliviously asleep, curled up in their sleeping bags, side by side. On the other side of the archway were the Greek and Roman history museums flanking an open cobblestone courtyard. The disenchantment of Munich wore off immediately and I marveled at the scene. I put my arms as far as I could around one of the columns. It would have taken two or three of me to give it a complete hug. We continued home, or to the bar or wherever we were going. We got to Hauptbahnhof and I decided to go to the ATM. There was another homeless man sleeping inside the foyer of the bank.
Walking through the city center, with the Neuesrathaus towering over the former oxen market, church bells ringing and busy people walking through it all. You can tell the locals from the tourists by the angle of their necks. Head down, disdainful look, shopping bags in hand=local. Camera out, backpack on, necks craned to be able to see the top of the tower, dazed look=tourist. I'm somewhere in between. I find myself with a craned neck marveling at the beauty of the town hall occasionally, walking to get coffee, or concert tickets or whatever my business is. We call Munich "Toy Town." It still seems like a dreamworld. I sit in my flat above the city. An island of English-speaking comfort, safe and secure from the intimidating German-speaking world. I walk out my front door and I can see St. Peter's Cathedral, take a left and I can see the twin onion-dome towers of the Frauenkirchen peeking out from behind office buildings above the gas station. Luke and I were walking through a park by our house and stashed at the bottom of this small fountain were about 20 bottles of beer. We looked around and no one was watching it or looked as though they were drinking it. We thought that in either of our respective countries, we would totally take it, fill our pockets, go back to our flat and grab an empty case and fill it up. But not here. What makes Munich so different that people are just more honest and more trusting? People often don't lock up their bikes. Small children walk through the streets with their parents unconcerned about how far ahead their kid walks ahead of them. Munich stands on the edge between fairy tale wunderland and thriving economic and cultural dominance. It's an even balance. To quote "In Bruges"..."We'll balance the scales between culture and fun." "Well, I tend to believe that the scales will tip in favor of culture like a fat black woman on a see-saw with a midget." I think in Munich the scales tip in favor of fun and fun is such a big part of the culture that sometimes that line blurs and drinking in a bierhall is just as cultural and traditional as anyone can get in Munich. Bierhalls of been a part of this city for centuries. Rain falls silently outside in the city and I feel warm and comfortable inside my bubble, floating above the fairytale wunderland.

viva la comida révelucion!

Jeffrey D. Sachs, the head of Columbia University's Earth Institute said recently that if every person in the developed world gave $10, we could double Africa's production of food. Before I came to Germany, I was so excited by the idea of a Global Community. The idea that every person on earth has the ability to communicate with, love, effect, share ideas and music and art with. Now Global seems like a scary word. 100,000 dead in Myanmar and the Global Community steps forward to help. Their government doesn't seem to care to much. Thousands of people starving in third world nations and people are shocked that in America we can only buy 4 100kg bags of rice per visit to Sam's Club. The Western World has brought all of these problems on themselves (ourselves) by years and years of "Global" meaning the rest of the world works for $5 a day so that we can enjoy our extravagant lifestyle and eat Kiwi year-round and ship in every piece of clothing we own from 1,000's of miles away. Global seemed promising. Earth, Humanity as one Democratic conglomerate of humanity. Finally including the "third world" into that realm of, well, the rest of the world. (Are there second-world countries?) However, America being part of this "Global Community" we are now being affected by our own consumption rates. The first of many headlines being that rice would be limited in wholesale chains like Sam's and CostCo. Now we have to start worrying about how far our food has to travel. Is it really worth it to have a Kiwi in February when it has to be sprayed with chemical preservatives and shipped half-way around the world? Do we really need shoes made in Thailand? Aren't we skilled enough to mass-produce our own shoes? Will it ever become cheaper to pay someone normal American minimum wage to make a pair of Nike's in Michigan rather than pay some one from Thailand $1 a day and pay $60,000 dollars to ship the shoes to the states where they will then be put into trucks and driven across the country costing even more in gas prices. I guess I never considered the cost of being global. The effect of using fossil fuels to fuel our global markets. When will it all come crashing down? When will American farmers start producing for Americans and (god forbid!) we'll have to start eating fruits and vegetables only when they're in season. And we'll have to buy fruits from Farmer's Markets instead of Wal-Mart. Imagine a world where everyone contributes only to their respective countries' own economy and no one relies on anyone else for energy, food or resources and we can start seeing countries in terms of culture and humanity rather than how much fertile land we can buy from them or how little we can pay their factory workers. Is this idealistic? Maybe I am still excited by Globalization. I mean, once gas becomes unaffordable this whole existence that's been spiraling out of control since the first mass-produced Ford Model A rolled off the assembly line. This is the boiling point. This is the beginning of the end. Once people start getting hungry enough, the revolution begins. But for now, I'm getting pretty hungry...

Tanz in den Mai!

I'm listening to Burial's album Untrue with headphones on. You almost have to with this album. I woke up this afternoon with a massive headache. I never thought it could hurt to have blood pump in your veins. Every pulse was like a punch in the side of the head. I laid awake and thought about the night before. About walking all the way to Frauenhoferstasse. I felt a tap on my shoulder just as I was rounding the corner to the Wasserman. The restaurant at which we were meeting. He said "Was ist los" or something and I waved him off. I said "hallo" and kept walking. He started speaking to me in German that I didn't understand. I know he was looking for something, but I wasn't sure what he was saying. He continued to talk as I saw Chai standing outside having a cigarette. I shook his hand and he asked, "Is he with you?" Referring to the man who was talking to me as I walked up to him. I turned and looked at him for the first time. He had large, bulging eyes. One was bigger than the other and sat lower on his face as if gravity and time had pulled it down. He held a handful of coins in his hand and kept looking down at them when asking whatever it was he was asking. I know a bit of German. Mostly, enough to understand people and answer questions. I decided that whenever someone would ask me where something was (which happens a lot) I'd just say, "Noch Links, ich glaube" or "Take a left, I believe." But this guy was actually asking something serious and persistently. I tried to tell him that I didn't speak German and I didn't understand what he was saying. Chai and I discerned "Flaschen" and "Automat" or bottles and machine." After 2 or 3 minutes of speaking without communicating anything, he asked us if we wanted to go inside and have a Vodka Red Bull. We said "nein, danke" and went inside where I found Luke, Ilana and a beer waiting for me. The waitress came around and Chai ordered us shots and I ordered another beer, which took a minute because she didn't understand me for some reason. I felt a bit disappointed with my German, but I was getting drunk and didn't have to work the next day, so I was okay with that. We went to a pool hall around the corner where we could drink and smoke. A "Raucherclub." It's illegal to smoke in public places like restaurants and bars in Munich now, but you can still smoke in clubs. So bars have started requiring people to "join the club" by signing a piece of paper. So, Chai signed us in and we sat at the bar and smoked. Chai ordered us Jagermeister shots. The large older man behind the bar heard me speaking a little German. I asked him what was the best type of liquor they had in German and his eyes lit up. He was so impressed. He asked where we're from and I said "Ich und sie kommen aus Amerika und ihm...(pointing at Luke) kommt aus Angland." He said, "Also, ein Anglander." and waved his hand as if to say, we won't worry about that. Haha. He said that he went to LA for a while and rode a bus or something to Mexico and had this huge adventure. I picked out a few words. There were women involved and autos and it sounded pretty funny, so I laughed. He said that his nephew was just born in Sydney, Australia where his sister lives. I said one of my best friends was from Australia. I said that I was going home in July and that I love Munich and Germany and that it is very beautiful and he said that America is beautiful. I then said "Prost!" but he didn't have a beer, so he reached down and picked one up. I asked him if he could drink while working and he said "Genau! Warrum nicht?" or Of course, why not? I felt great. That was the longest conversation I had ever had in German. We played pool and drank more. Chai and Luke won a round of beers from two younger guys. We had about 7 or 8 beers floating around. No one was sure which beer belonged to whom, but we were sure going to finish them. We drank and smoked and played pool. Luke and I played the two guys and Chai and Ilana talked over on the side. A group of people with huge backpacks came in and out. The Frau und Mann were very nice. They were just taking care of people and laughing and Luke had picked out a great selection of music. Including such hits as "I Would Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)" by Meatloaf, "Born in the USA" by Springsteen "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen, and "November Rain" by Guns n Roses. We held our pool cues like guitars and air-guitared the classic solo. Everyone in the bar doing their best Axel Rose impression. We finished all the beers and headed out. As is Chai's style, we took a cab home to Landwehrstrasse and someone (Possibly me) suggested we get Doners. We walked around the corner to my favorite place and got sandwiches. After eating it, I don't remember much else. I walked home alone and passed out. Today is May Day. In Germany, the night before gives kids the chance to party and on May Day itself, people tend to spend time with their families doing typical German stuff, like hiking, bike-riding, eating a lot. In Pre-Christian Europe, May 1st was marked as the first day of Summer making the Summer Solstice Midsummer. For me, May usually marks the time when I start thinking about camp. About packing up my life into boxes and storing for the summer. Hopping in my car and driving to the welcoming, cool mountains of Western North Carolina. Reuniting with old friends and getting healthy. I have about 10 more weeks here. 8 weeks, or two months of work left. I've been away from home for 4 months and in a few more days it will be the longest I've ever been away from home. For now, I'm holding on to what I have and struggling against isolation and loneliness. I find solace in the city and the busy streets. The only place I can really feel alone is when I'm out walking around the city. Silent, anonymous, part of the scenery until someone asks me how to get somewhere, then I'm prepared with "Noch links, ich glaube...bitte schoen!"