Berlin people from abroad...like me, like most.

This man, whom I had the chance to hear talking twice, is a very interesting fellow.
His website deserves to be checked out, and his tips about Berlin are worth a try, if you ever came to this place, city, this never ending stratification of tragic and unique events of European history.

A very interesting article on a very interesting subject

NY Times on Germany´s way to deal with its past.
Read it!

Protektionismus von unten

SZ über Nokia, die Deutsche und die Zeitverschwendung.

Brand new music - new old music

Múm - Go Go Smear the Poison Ivy
Mclusky - Mclusky Do Dallas
Cat Power - Jukebox
Bonnie "Prince" Billie - Ask Forgiveness
Karen Dalton - In My Own Time
Various Artists - I am not there O.S.T.
Kenney Stoltz - Below the Branches
Broken Social Scene - Spirit If
Blonde Redhead - Melody of Certain Damaged Lemons

Unbekannt

A friend of mine made me "know" Karen Dalton yesterday. She apparently released only two albums, we listened to the most popular: "In my own time"...called the Billie Holyday of the American folk music she played banjo and guitar...I like her attitude to singing...in the japanese version of her cd album, there is a citation from Bob Dylan´s Chronicles...a description of times where festivals and concert, reunion and events were taking place spontaneously all over the country...maybe becuase of the music of the "I am not there" movie, maybe because of the need of something new: either way I have been listening a lot of American folk music lately.

One Hundred Days

When the willow bends towards the end of day
And twilight falls again
To the funny sound that a blackbird makes
Twilight falls again
As no good reason remains, I'll do the same
Thinking of you
One day a ship comes in, one day a ship comes in
But I can't say how or when
But I know somewhere the ship comes in every day
There is no morphine, I'm only sleeping
There is no crime to dreams like this
And if you could take something with you
It would be right
Something good
From my fingertips, the cigarette throws ashes to the ground
I'd stop and talk to the girls who work this street, but I got business farther down
Like one long season of rain, I will remain
Thinking of you
One day a ship comes in
From far away a ship comes in
One hundred days you wait for it
And you know somewhere the ship comes in every day
There is no morphine, I'm only sleeping
There is no crime to dreams like this
And if you could take something with you
It would be bright
Just like something good
One day a ship comes in
One hundred days you wait for it
Something bright
Something so good
One hundred days
A ship comes in every day
You know it's good
You know it's good
A ship comes in every day
One day a ship comes in
Its good
When it's something good

I automatically wake up after 5 hours of sleep, when I am so lucky to fall asleep soon enough to have so many hours ahead me...so annoying! Whst should I do now?! Damned...It is five in the morning.

Rear-view mirror

Some people think they need memorable events in every day of their lives as a sort of fuelling effect on their existences; some other take that for granted, no matter what happens - turning stories or events upside down is a well-known practice all over the world...
I do not feel I belong to any of the two categories...still I guess special things make life special.

It would be kind of satisfying if I could remember any of these last weeks for something special...something not connected with huge hangovers or sex in the ladies´ restroom of some bar. Because, apart from that, and from the loads of music I have been listening to, it is so difficult for me to recall if some minor event took place last Monday or three fucking weeks ago...It is probably a matter of attitude, it could be argued, and I could agree too...the thing is that having spent three days home alone because of a cold made me realize that very vividly.

I watched movies, youtube crap, tv serials, tv shows, listened old and new music, worked a bit too, read newspapers and books, articles and magazines...now I can talk with you, him, her, anybody, about the eccentricity of Steve Albini, the similarities (I found) between Architecture in Helsinky and Broken Social Scene, the beauty and every-day-more-main-stream charme of Chan Marshall, or about Primaries in the US, the Australian Open or the right size of the glas for a Sour (at least the one size I like the most!) but I just have to admit that I am very lonely in this city.
Maybe well informed, maybe not sad or depressed anymore, probably aware that is just temporary...very alone though.

I guess Google is gonna win: my mum got a gmail account...

Playlist für einsame Berliner

The National - Boxer
Radiohead - In Rainbows (Still)
Wilco - Sky Blue Sky
PJ Harvey - White Chalk (Still)
Sons and Daughters - Gift
Band of Horses - Cease to Begin
The Beatles - The White Album
Burial - Untrue
John Vanderslice - Esmerald City
Nick Cave and Warren Ellis - O.S.T. The Assassination of Jesse James...

...coming soon:
Bonnie Prince Billy
Cat Power - Jukebox

Some more old stuff

Two years old pictures on the web.
Barbatax and I between Sardiny and Lisbon

The Spice girls will one day soon become Ministries of the Faith? A mediocre good looking high-voiced English football player will conquer prolselytes in California for the least understandable religion ever?
I truly hope so. Things do not make sense at all. That is why we usually all like fiction.

A loud lack of hope, the feeling of being in the wrong spot most of the time, a row of sleepless evenings, a girl with a boyfriend, no friends...
Plus winter.
I wish I never knew her: it is scaring for me to think that but it is just like the way it is.

South America

A friend went south.
Have a look. Patagonia.

On Apple