Wednesday, January 28, 2009

First Question: When will the Winter of my not-really-discontent, but mild discomfort end?

My class informed me today that February is as cold and assholey as January.
Aside: I can't believe you hit on my sister January. I thought you were cool...but that was totally uncool...totally uncool.

After they alerted me of this protracted Winter, I had an instant urge to strangle myself with my hideous thigh dungeons. My Lycra sausage casing leg cells. My solitary calf-finement vehicles. My Ladyparts prison?
*"Long underwear" is what I was going for.

Second question: Is Hilary Swank hot?

I know what you think January...stupid asshole with a Chevy...all checking out my sister and Hilary Swank and passing off your douchebag torch to February. That's my month! My birthday's inside of it!

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Sketchy adventures in Turkish Imbisses, part 2.
I worked on my graphic novel at Silver Future last night. I was hungry, so I stopped for a cheeseburger at "Superburger" (or something like that) on my way home. It's one of the only places in Berlin that has a good burger besides the "Burgermeister" which is underneath the subway and housed in a former public urinal.
Anyway, I always compliment the Turkish guy who runs the place on his "American-style" cheeseburgers. So last night, he repaid me by giving me free shots. I had to work this morning, but I took them out of politeness and love of free stuff. Anyway, I started to feel unusually weird after the second one, and I asked him groggily, "Was ist das?" He said that he didn't know, then he brought out the whole bottle encouraging me to take as much as I wanted.
It was absinthe. He gave me absinthe.
Everything moved very slowly and I went home and listened in rapt attention as my roommate Lucia read emails to me for an hour.
I was still a little out of it this morning in class, but luckily I was energized by one of my student's stories. She is assistant to the head of arts and culture in Germany (or something like that) and always gets to attend movie premieres etc. Anyway, she attended the Valkyrie premiere and VIP reception and got to talk to TomKat!
Her synopsis: Tom is short and skinny and intense. And apparently doesn't know how big soccer is here in Europe. Wtf? She said he also kept talking about training for the movie at West Point, where they gave him an honorary degree? huh? Also, Tom asked her if she would like a picture with him and she replied, "no," which I think is hilarious.

According to my student, Sandra, Katie Holmes has the weakest handshake ever and is basically a mute barfstick. Sandra said that she didn't speak the whole night. She was also, very "thinny" in Sandra's opinion.

I watched Valkyrie already and I thought it was kind of annoying. Tom has an American accent and the rest have British accents. C'mon.
Sandra had a good point though, she said that it's good for Germany to have someone like Tom star, and for it to be American-produced because so few people are aware of the resistance movement and Stauffenberg and obviously it's been getting some attention (at least in part because of it's suckiness).

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Wacky Sunday!
First I went to this Feminist art exhibition at the Akademie der Kunste with a friend, which was interesting and I will talk more about later. Basically: 1970's body performance is humorless but meaty and contemporary body performance is funny and self-referential but seems superficial. Didacticlishus.

Get out of my life, Kate Gilmore! I've seen like 5 of your videos in a week.
*I looooove some of Kate Gilmore's videos.

I was feeling all feminist, walking tall, and swathed in a quilt made of butterfly vulvas, when I went to a Turkish place on my way home for a Doner Kabab. A young, adorable Turkish employee gave me free Turkish teas and asked me about my life---in German, mind you.
The incredible thing is, I understood him and he understood me!
I'm not saying it's true love or nothing, just that maybe my German isn't all that horrible after all. Goodbye what little remains of my Puritanical work ethic.
Then, some of his Turkish friends came and I felt pretty conspicuous but wished someone could take my picture: me wet from rain, drinking tea and smoking cigarettes with 4 Turkish men while Donna Summers played from a weird disco machine, the smell of hooka wafting through my waspy euro-caucasian fingers. Oh my, how authentic.
The shitty part is, I gave him my number and he said he's going to call me tomorrow morning. Erg. He comped my meal, and made me feel good about myself for a second, so I guess I owe him a BJ right? I mean, I owe him a "Big Jaunt" to Alexanderplatz or something.

Saturday, January 17, 2009

I've always been a tad socially awkward, straddling the poles of unnervingly confident to unnervingly quiet. Here, it seems my awkwardness has been magnified into a speechless Nell neurosis, as I have a habit of gargling out half-German/English hybrid barfwords, motioning without sound and slinking in corners to make shadow puppets with my own deformed hands.

I have a constant dialogue of shame going on in my head; "is she going to speak German to me? Will I be able to answer her? Will she laugh at my bad German and think I'm stupid? Did I just order banana juice instead of beer? Do my snow boots look ridiculous? Are the German people eavesdropping because I'm speaking English?" (the answer to the last two are invariably yes by the way).

Nicky says that I should just feel comfortable speaking English to people. It's ok. But, I am ashamed really. Deep down I think it's shameful to live in a place and be so disconnected from its language.
Appropriately, I am watching an incredibly bad pirated copy of Valkyrie right now, and omigod Tom Cruise is such a douchebag.
I don't know what the answer is exactly, but I do know that I should stop being such a pussy and talk to people in whatever language and stop acting like such a swamp-raised freak.

Also, I should really try and be more comfortable with the euro double kiss, it does draw attention when I shirk and squeal and try to escape some relatively harmless cheek love.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

I just ate so much chocolate. I was on the phone with my friend Emily and I told her about how the other day I was walking to work at 6 a.m. and multiple tears froze on my face. How sad, how poignant, how Morrissey, how 8th grade science museum field trip.
Here are some movies that suck dick (sans explanation, I am bloated with 2 dollar wine and frozen fish and have high mercury levels like actor Jemery Piven and therefore cannot think in a non-mercury-poisoned way):
Seven Pounds
Itty Bitty Titty Committee
Vicky Christina Barfalona
The Dark Knight
I don't care what anyone says, these movies blew hard. I have mixed feelings about Vicky Christina Barcelona, and it probably is not that bad, but I like the "barf" wordplay, and really that's all you care about, right? Barf.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

I'm sitting in a cafe called Silver Future with Nicky, beholden to that visage I've mentioned before, a painted lady with pasties and an Angela Davis fist. Oh, how wacky!
My computer is going to die, but I thought I would sodomize you with data. Oh god, I don't know.

I saw the Anish Kapoor show at the Deutsches Guggenheim, and I saw some showzen at Duve and Nice and Fit. Nice and Fit had videos from Kate Gilmore, Kara Walker, Jason Phelan (?), Robin Rhoade, and others. Of course, Kara stole my already stolen heart. Later that night, Nicky and I met a couple of puppeteers, which complemented nicely my Kara puppetlust.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Oops, not every day.

Friday, January 09, 2009

Some love from Women and Their Work:
http://womenandtheirwork.wordpress.com/2009/01/09/read-this-calamity-in-berlin/

Tonight, I plan to go to openings at Klosterfelde, Duve and Nice and Fit. I'll letchu know what they're all about.Link

Thursday, January 08, 2009

I'm going to try to update every day now. Why? I don't know, some kind of continuity in my Piscean world of psychic tumult. Clear directions on the inter-nutty highway!
wtf?
Interesting new phrase I learned from The Canterbury Tales: "Nether-Eye."
Used in a sentence, "He was surprised by the hairiness of her Nether-Eye."
See, in between inquisitions and having plague-battles with poxy limbs, those mideval folk let a few jokes fly. I bet they would have liked Adam Sandler movies.

Tuesday, January 06, 2009

Ok, well here's some new content:
My lips are chapped and raw from the cold and I look like Goldie Hawn circa...um never, because she always looks awesome and I don't. Actually, my lips more closely resemble Heath Ledger's Psoriasis smile as the Joker (I saw The Dark Knight, and I was not that impressed. Blah, give me the over-stylized, hypercolored streets of 1990's Gotham anyday).
Time home was nice, I got a lot of work done and went to my sister's local bar and drank my weight in watered down whiskey cokes. I saw my grandma which was heart-wrenching and difficult to talk (or write) about. She is getting better though.
I rode first class back to Europe thanks to a lovely US Airways employee named Anne. On the flight I acted totally Caligula, eating, drinking and otherwise consuming everything that was offered to me. Those airline slippers do not go down easily let me tell you.
Cymbal clash.
*I did however, spill a Mimosa all over the seat next to me within 10 minutes of boarding the plane, which really didn't help the refined, potential D-list celebrity image I was trying to cultivate.
I feel unjustifiably enlightened after reading the Kite Runner, re-reading Persepolis, watching House of Saddam and talking for 15 minutes to an Iranian political refugee slash cab driver. We're all the same inside! I can solve the middle-east situation McGyver style with a heart-shaped blowpop, chestbumps and an issue of O Magazine.
I'm re-reading the Canterbury Tales now as research for my, as yet, unrealized graphic novel.
My class didn't show up today and I woke up at 6 in the morning for it. Blurg!
It is fucking, fucking cold and to be honest, I am seriously suffering from a prolonged seasonal case-of-the-Mondays. I hadn't really missed Texas since I left, (the people yes, the place no) but recently I have begun fantasizing about drinking Mexican Martinis on porches and other warm-weather related activities.
It's really fucking with my self-image. I always envisioned myself as a black-clad, east-coast, rainy type of lady, but somewhere along the line I became an arid, hawaiian shirted lothario.