Thursday, August 28, 2008

Today was more than a little bit Belle and Sebastian. Someone I really liked left, the first of my transient family to return stateside.
Outside it is already fall and gray and Gattica, which seems premature, but maybe will be work-inducing.
A close friend of mine was betrayed by someone he loved, and it breaks the little cheneyheart I have left. The things love does to's a fox in the snow.
Sigh, I'm going to watch 30 rock in my underwear and work on my graphic novel and start relinquishing my rock of negativity so that my garden may grow.

*Italicizing puts me in a better mood.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Also, Sister Mary Joseph, I know you punished my Gomorrah type ways by giving me some strep-throat-ish disease. Thanks a lot. From now on I'm using my Rosary beads as a thong.
I don't even know where to begin. I've been lagging behind like Dick Cheney's sad, forked reptillian tail. You know, the thing that creaks behind him as he lunges towards you in the dark. Dick Cheney is the crocodile man.
I went to a series of short lectures at Program ( It was fab, I don't know nearly enough about architecture, but at least I'm learning what an idiot I am. Self-awareness is the first step, or so they say.
Brian Boyer, my friend Katie's cousin and her current collaborator, has an interesting take on architectural theory; he uses the mantra, "form follows fable" to come up with initial designs for buildings.
For example: After studying Nordic folklore about sea-monsters, he designed this building that was engulfed by structures that resemble rows of teeth. Yes.
On Sat. Simone, Emily, Katie and I went to a club called Scala, where we heard Simone's tiny, polite German friend Sabine sing about her cha-cha Peaches-style. Then we tried to go to a boat party but couldn't find it anywheres, and instead just wandered the Spree for like an hour.
In good news, I have a couple of exciting show possibilities...perhaps. In not good news, my boss man is out of town until the first week of September, so my money-making has to wait even longer. Remember the time I almost became an online escort?
Them times is coming up again.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Today was one of the best days ever. I went with my friends Simone & Emily ( and Katie to Schlachtensee lake, where we ate brats, went swimming, smoked a joint, and walked around the small town of Schlachtensee. It was one of the more magical (although slightly THC enhanced) times I've had.
The conversation was really lovely and the following topics were discussed at length:

-Getting pentagrams tattooed on our ladyparts.
-Building fairy houses out of sticks and other forest detritus.
-Fairies in general, Norwegian fairies specifically. Apparently 85% percent of their population believe in "hidden people."
-Gang violence in L.A.
-My special fish skills (I am some sort of fish magnet because of my Piscean nature).
-My future career as a dolphin trainer because of my fish skillz.
-The smell of nuns.

Monday, August 18, 2008

Work Visa success! Sooooo tired, no stress and fear of deportation to keep me on edge anymore. Wasting away into blissful relief. Mmmm.
Woman was like dominatrix: but only a soft one. Domilight.

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Awwww, my freunds Willi and Nicky cooked me a real German dinner with delicious meatballz and potatoes and veggies and buttermilk.
Afterwards, we watched Schwarze Schafe, (Black Sheep) which is a German movie about quirky Berlin characters loosely tethered to each other by their surroundings. It's not a novel storyline to be sure, but there was a scene where this goth, takes advantage of his comatose grandma during a satanic ritual. It was really disturbing considering that this movie was a comedy. Germany's version of funny = penetration of the elderly.

The other day I went to this cool space that also hosts residencies called Programm. It's an effort to join architects and artists and force them to collaborate despite their nutty sitcom-like differences of opinions. "That's my t-square, not a back-scratcher!" *laugh track*

There was a lecture about "ha-has," but don't ask me what they are because I am still really confused. Most, if not all of the other people there were architects and so the speaker made no effort to navigate away from archibabble. Thank you for not patronizing me, dear sir, thank you. But next time, treat me like a 12 year-old Appalachian because I had no fucking idea what you were talking about.

Someone called the lecture a "proquiem" as opposed to a "requiem" for American superhighways. And he did talk quite a bit about the theories behind current American highway systems and what the highways of the future would look like, which was cool.
My newish friend Katie is staying there right now, executing a project with her collaborator-cousin that entails, waiiiit for it.....feng-shuing the Panopticon! How fucking sweet is that.
Here are some of her paintings, she is also a librarian:

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

I'm done with my Catholic guilt complex. Yes, I'm having fun and becoming a partymonster like Macaulay Culkin. Yes, I am tonguing way more people than is normal or orally hygienic. Yes, I am going to clubs called "Roses," and "Cookies" and "Cake." I am decadent and Caligula-esque. Chocolate-youtube-vomitorium.

But for 6-9 months in Austin I worked constantly and wouldn't even go out to lunch with friends. I was like a phantom and was socially negligent.

So I deserve this. Sister Mary Joseph (a nun I remember from my brief stint in catholic school) I deserve this.
And if fucking Germany would just give me a work visa, then I wouldn't have to explore my fat-kid gone wild issues through alcohol and dirty dancing.

*This post was more about appeasing my sense of self-doubt, and if you noticed, I am really, really not done with my Catholic guilt complex. Will I ever be done? I'm sick of chastising myself constantly and feeling bad about things. How did you indoctrinate me so, Sister Mary Joseph, how did you?
*Answer: through cookies and a graphic novelly version of the bible.

Sunday, August 10, 2008

I missed the "Fuck Parade" yesterday. Fuck.
Berlin needs to get less fun before I die of exhaustion and embarrassment.

Saturday, August 09, 2008

Firstly, I want to commend you guys for actually reading a blog with a boring black template, a verbose and self-obsessed author, and no pictures. I myself don't look at things without pikchurrs.
So, now that my digicam is kind of working (I can't fix the file size) I will give you a little insight into my new Berlin life. Very little, considering all the pictures were taken in my room. But my room is awesome. And as an interesting architectural sidenote, all of the bedrooms I've seen in Berlin are huge, while the common areas are tiny. I'm sure there's some commie significance to this (space to think about Marx and masturbate to photos of similarly dressed stocky women working on assembly lines?), but I don't know what it is.

The other pics are a lil' sneak peek of my graphic novel, "An American Artist in Berlin, or The Sad Little White Girl Story." And I decided to give you a sneak peek of my new haircut as well. I'm sorry, but I feel adorable.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

Can't seem to use words. English getting worse, German not getting better. D'oh. Or Doch?

Went to S&M themed apartment replete with black and white tiles, hanging harness and Mapplethorpe-type photo. Watched a beerfest from above.

Some Canadian thought I was Canadian based on my accent (or lack thereof). Sigh, if only.

Moved. Again. I think this is like the 5th time I've moved this year, counting the moving of my studio.

Might start a job as a tour guide soonish.

I'm not funny anymore. I blame Germany. Here's an anecdote to illustrate this point (see! so succint and unfunny):

I was at an art opening and this severe German man said something he thought was funny, but no one laughed and he announced, "I just made a joke."
Then I said, "I thought Germans didn't make jokes."
And then he said, straight-facedly, "But I just made one."

Sunday, August 03, 2008

No one reads when I detail my work saga, only when I'm a sexitime talker and art-hater. Well, I've been having my share of both sexitime and art-hating. However, I will only indulge my Emin-esque diary entry bullshit impulse when I cannot hold it in any longer. It's like pee.

To tide you over, here's some stuff not related to hole-punching, number staring, form-filing and omigodI'mgoingtokillalltheGermans-ing.

I've been going to these Wed. night film screenings in this big warehouse called "Basso."
Last time it was Logan's Run (fuck me, that film was amazing), and this time they showed some stuff by Kenneth Anger, but I didn't really go in because I am too cool and also because it was too crowded. Anyway, it's an amazing place/initiative, and I think they're staging La Estrada sometime next week with all the characters in speedos (speedoes?).

I just moved to a new place in Kreuzkolln. Upon arriving, I realized there are no light bulbs and no internetz---Oh, Berlin! You're such a crazy commie city. You care nothing of amenities, only utilitarian thingies!

But really though, the internet has become my only form of entertainment, I've been watching "French and Saunders" every night before bed. Jennifer Saunders, I love you. What am I going to do?

The apartment itself is supercool, incredibly priced (cheaper than what I paid in Austin), centrally located and next door to a heavenly Turkish bakery. I had Baklava today that was, quite frankly, unbelievable. It was so tiny and perfectly made, but I just manhandled it and smushed it in my mouth Lenny-style. Then I wouldn't shut up about it. And my new roommate probably thinks I'm some kind of Baklava newbie. Which I'm not! I've had plenty of experiences with Baklava! I'm just out of practice! I ate a lot of Baklava in college, but I was always drunk!

Um, anyway. I need to eat more Baklava. Take that as you will.

Toodles for now, I am off to meet that nurse mentioned in one the posts below. She speaks sooooooo fast (reciting overly personal anecdotes) and reminds me, I swear, of Liza Minelli, in, yes, Cabaret. Whatever, don't judge me for fudging my own hypothesis that Berlin in 2008 is the same licentious city of Chris Isherwood fame.

Scientists do it all the time. That creature that washed up on a beach is made of latex and Bubbalicious. Trust me, I know these things.