The iPod died. It was the day after I lost my keys that night of the last World Cup match, and the same day that I had to shell out about 200 Euros to have the lock fully replaced. The whole key thing was frustrating enough, but my pride and joy? I haven't been without an iPod since I bought my first for Christmas in December 2003.
Oh wait, there was a stolen one in there…Heartbreak.
The struggle to get this latest one replaced has been exhausting. It was under warranty, thank goodness, but the choices were: (1) a few days for a new replacement, but without the "Love strikes twice." inscription or (2) three weeks but with the inscription. I won't lie: I cried. I am grateful for the wonderful chaps at Service Offensive who handled the replacement and me with such care.
But the new one came back four weeks later—inscription and everything—and then promptly died. Martin, resist whatever comment you want to share here…
In any case, love will not strike again. The next will be here tomorrow, says Service Offensive, but without the inscription. Sigh.
In the interim, there's been radio. RADIO. Lord have mercy.
Ramona reminded me that NPR is now broadcasting here in Berlin. I tuned in for a while, but the "Hezbollah aggressor/Israel victim" perspective was so sickening, I just had to stop. From today's news, this:
"We did not think, even one percent, that the capture [of the two Israeli soldiers] would lead to a war at this time and of this magnitude," Hassan Nasrallah, the cleric who leads Hezbollah, told Lebanon's New TV channel. "You ask me, if I had known on July 11 ... that the operation would lead to such a war, would I do it? I say no, absolutely not."
For further perspectives, here's a Sky News interview clip of British MP George Galloway on Israel's aggression and media bias. You have to watch it in IE not Firefox. He doesn't hold back with his outrage. U.S. Democrats don’t have a fraction of his outrage. Frickin' sellouts.
And there is always the Common Dreams News Center to provide alternative news and commentary for you who are starving for it.
World wars aside, Niels and Irene reminded me that radioeins is broadcasting some great music. True. I'm now FASCINATED by MIA., whose Tanz der Moleküle [RealOne clip] is also getting a heavy rotation on MTV. uuhuhuh...uhuhuhuhuuhu / Mein Herz tanzt. Absolutely stuck in my head.
The bakery smells are driving me crazy. I have to get some grub. But, for my bestest buddy and fellow goofball, Vicki Linton, I offer this final link to NiceCupOfTeaAndASitDown.com, a site that is dedicated to tea and the occasional news story of ghosts biscuits.
Mmmmm about that time in fact...
Monday, August 28, 2006
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Get this…
So I am biking home last night at around 11 or so.
Huh?
Come on, 's not so late. I was out with Jörn last night.
Jörn. I already told you about him.
Whatever. Keep up. Anyway, he just got back from this fantastic hike with a co-worker of his. It sounded AMAZING.
Shit, I can't remember…oh, wait, the Dolemites??
Um, noooooo, I don't know exactly. I need to pull out a map.
CAN I FINISH MY STORY?!
Ok, so I'm biking home… Oh, wait, remind me to tell you about the movie we saw.
Well, I *wanted* to see Zombie vs. Ninja but fucking forgot. Jennifer went though. I got an email from her this morning. It sounded heeeelarious.
Jennifer? Do you actually *listen* to me when we talk?
Oh. Right. Well, we went to see Dave Chappell's Block Party at the Central. Exxxxxxcellent movie and a funky little cinema tucked away....
Ack, I'll tell you about the movie later!
So I'm biking home and it's this great night. The moon is HUGE. Just bright and, er, like something out of a movie. Movies on the brain! Anyway, it's dark, I'm pedaling pretty fast 'cuz I just want to get the hell home and sleep, and, I don't know, I'm worried because it's dark…
Aaaaaarghhh. This is not D.C.!!!! It's just hard to see the pavement and any bumps or dips. Bike accident recently, remember?
CAN I FINISH?!
Anyway, so it's this full moon up and I am just thinking how great life is (yeah, yeah, shut up) when, get this, there's this guy (I think it was a guy?!?!) and he's bending over in the dark and his PANTS are down around his knees.
Full moon, no lie.
Why would I make this up?!
Damn, it is so hard to tell you anything.
Huh?
Come on, 's not so late. I was out with Jörn last night.
Jörn. I already told you about him.
Whatever. Keep up. Anyway, he just got back from this fantastic hike with a co-worker of his. It sounded AMAZING.
Shit, I can't remember…oh, wait, the Dolemites??
Um, noooooo, I don't know exactly. I need to pull out a map.
CAN I FINISH MY STORY?!
Ok, so I'm biking home… Oh, wait, remind me to tell you about the movie we saw.
Well, I *wanted* to see Zombie vs. Ninja but fucking forgot. Jennifer went though. I got an email from her this morning. It sounded heeeelarious.
Jennifer? Do you actually *listen* to me when we talk?
Oh. Right. Well, we went to see Dave Chappell's Block Party at the Central. Exxxxxxcellent movie and a funky little cinema tucked away....
Ack, I'll tell you about the movie later!
So I'm biking home and it's this great night. The moon is HUGE. Just bright and, er, like something out of a movie. Movies on the brain! Anyway, it's dark, I'm pedaling pretty fast 'cuz I just want to get the hell home and sleep, and, I don't know, I'm worried because it's dark…
Aaaaaarghhh. This is not D.C.!!!! It's just hard to see the pavement and any bumps or dips. Bike accident recently, remember?
CAN I FINISH?!
Anyway, so it's this full moon up and I am just thinking how great life is (yeah, yeah, shut up) when, get this, there's this guy (I think it was a guy?!?!) and he's bending over in the dark and his PANTS are down around his knees.
Full moon, no lie.
Why would I make this up?!
Damn, it is so hard to tell you anything.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Run away with me.
First a moment for William (Bill) Goggins, the former editor-in-chief of my most favorite technology magazine, Wired. He died on Sunday at the San Francisco Marathon, his first. He was 43 and, according to friends who saw him at Mile 21, running strong.
---
Thursday, July 27
The front tire slips into the groove of the tram track like a slender foot into her perfect, ruby red slipper. I am so near the apartment that I am no longer on my bike anyway: I am walking in the front door, I am dumping my bag on the kitchen table, and I am showering the lake from my skin. That's the error. I should be on my bike. Present.
But it's that moment's distraction that betrays me, and the bike quickly takes advantage of the moment to lock in and hold. I am here now, but my thoughts—in those moments before I am sliding across the pavement leaving blood and flesh behind—are racing ahead.
Wow, I think, this is going to hurt.
In this split second, I also remember my last road accident. I was on the back of Ray's motorcycle. It was a perfect summer day, and we had taken the bike out to a construction project that he was working on. (He was a real macho guy and could swagger with the boys. Of course, he also loved to dress in women's clothes and looked quite fetching in a pair of pumps.) We were returning along Rock Creek Parkway when a driver, a woman in a small car, races to take turn in front of us. She realizes she has cut too close, hesitates and then guns her car away. Ray loved his motorcycle, and I had been out with him enough to really trust him. I knew he would see us through. I clung tight to him, curled around his body while he skillfully put us down on the pavement.
I used the gel of my Aloe Vera plant on the wound I suffered from that accident. I think about it as I crash now.
Cars are braking behind me. The owner of the nearby pizza shop is quickly in the street at my side. But he's offering assistance in German, and I am a bit too muddled to say more than I am okay. We gather up my wayward bag and shoe, pull my indifferent bike to the side of the road, and checkout the wounds. I am bleeding, but not broken. I don't have to look up to know that the tables crowding the pizza shop are packed with people who are curiously looking on. It's the nature of accidents: we are drawn like flies.
I gently brush away the pebbles and the concerns of the shop owner. Thank you, I say. But I live nearby. My German is bad, I apologize.
I pour the last drops of my water bottle over my leg, sigh, climb back onto my bike and go.
---
I don't want to leave you with this. Death, accidents and wounds. I had a glorious day. Heiliger See with Niels and David. The three of us perfectly naked on our lakeside blanket. Bright sunshine. A slow steady swim across the lake. The pier with Niels. And being on my bike. Flying.
---
Thursday, July 27
The front tire slips into the groove of the tram track like a slender foot into her perfect, ruby red slipper. I am so near the apartment that I am no longer on my bike anyway: I am walking in the front door, I am dumping my bag on the kitchen table, and I am showering the lake from my skin. That's the error. I should be on my bike. Present.
But it's that moment's distraction that betrays me, and the bike quickly takes advantage of the moment to lock in and hold. I am here now, but my thoughts—in those moments before I am sliding across the pavement leaving blood and flesh behind—are racing ahead.
Wow, I think, this is going to hurt.
In this split second, I also remember my last road accident. I was on the back of Ray's motorcycle. It was a perfect summer day, and we had taken the bike out to a construction project that he was working on. (He was a real macho guy and could swagger with the boys. Of course, he also loved to dress in women's clothes and looked quite fetching in a pair of pumps.) We were returning along Rock Creek Parkway when a driver, a woman in a small car, races to take turn in front of us. She realizes she has cut too close, hesitates and then guns her car away. Ray loved his motorcycle, and I had been out with him enough to really trust him. I knew he would see us through. I clung tight to him, curled around his body while he skillfully put us down on the pavement.
I used the gel of my Aloe Vera plant on the wound I suffered from that accident. I think about it as I crash now.
Cars are braking behind me. The owner of the nearby pizza shop is quickly in the street at my side. But he's offering assistance in German, and I am a bit too muddled to say more than I am okay. We gather up my wayward bag and shoe, pull my indifferent bike to the side of the road, and checkout the wounds. I am bleeding, but not broken. I don't have to look up to know that the tables crowding the pizza shop are packed with people who are curiously looking on. It's the nature of accidents: we are drawn like flies.
I gently brush away the pebbles and the concerns of the shop owner. Thank you, I say. But I live nearby. My German is bad, I apologize.
I pour the last drops of my water bottle over my leg, sigh, climb back onto my bike and go.
---
I don't want to leave you with this. Death, accidents and wounds. I had a glorious day. Heiliger See with Niels and David. The three of us perfectly naked on our lakeside blanket. Bright sunshine. A slow steady swim across the lake. The pier with Niels. And being on my bike. Flying.
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