We're all made by Stories and some Stories are made by us.

Red threads and a free fall

I've had the idea of writing about my final day in Spain for a few weeks now. About how I left the country with weak upper arms and scraped fingertips after arriving a few months earlier weak at knees. How I had to fall from a height of maybe two meters because I couldn't hold on any longer. How the end of my journey is the beginning of someone else's and that the question of whether you want to join will probably remain as one of the most important ones. But then the nights and days in Berlin just flew by while I'm sitting in the familiar bars or in front of the Späti. While I'm dancing in a club or at a tango milonga. While we stay awake until the train leaves and ate reheated pasta straight from the cooking pot or take a detour after the movies instead of the direct route home. Writing just has to wait every now and then. And when I want to sit down to start it happens that I can't see the red thread in it or it feels like its running through my story like a ladder in the tights. Anyway, my room neighbor in the hostel was and still is a passionate climber. And we found ourselves with the promise that we were going to the climbing gym together. Suitable clothing wasn't needed for me. Only a pair of borrowed shoes, chalk on the palms of my hands and, as is so often the case, all I needed was to get out of my own way. And what can I say? A couple hours of bouldern taught me to think of nothing else but the next move and that looking up is just as important as looking down. After my first successful rounds, I dared to try a more difficult route. But halfway, my fingers cramped up and the shoulder muscles already burned like fire. The motivating shouts of the other climbers couldn't change the fact that I was running out of energy. So I let go and after what felt like a slow-motion fall I landed on the mat with my arms and legs outstretched. Weak, but nonetheless stronger. Thinking about whats the point in holding on to something if you wont make any more progress and only get hurt. The best thing that could have happen afterwards was that I was helped to get up with a well done. Falling in climbing seems to me just as normal as stepping on each others feet while dancing. And perhaps there is no red thread running through my stories at all, rather I hang in it like on the ropes. Or I knit a sock out of it to stay comfy. However. I left the climbing gym to head for the airport. On the way I was asked for directions in the local language and when I was able to give the answer and was even sure that the description was correct, I thought to myself that I really had learned a few things. Namely that my fall no longer has to be free, but estimated and intentional. That I should keep my hips to the wall when climbing and close my heels before i make the next move when dancing tango. And nowadays when I stand on the balcony watching the traffic on the crossroad instead of the waves at the beach, put my headphones on and Talk Talk's - «Life's what you make it» starts I wanna keep throwing myself into this weird thing called life and make it somehow. Wanna join?

Mon, Apr 1, 2024

Slowliness

Finding the right time to end something is and remains as an art for life. Be it for parties, jobs, habits or, in my case, for a longer trip. And the closer the date of departure gets, the more nostalgic I become, because lately there have been more shells than stones in my way and I would love to put on this feeling of slowliness like a T-Shirt, tie it up like shoelaces, smear it on my skin like a cream and cover myself with it at night so that I don't forget to carry it with me. Arriving in each new city always seemed to me to be comparable to the first chapter in a book. You don't know yet what exactly might happen, but with every sentence and every step you are introduced further to it. And all the encounters and experiences then become a story, just as a mosaic is made from all the individual pieces. Along the way, there will always be a few people who crack a joke at your expense, but also those who offer you fresh bed linen or start teaching you how to juggle in the hostel lobby. The ones who stop you from sitting down in a ketchup stain and the ones who shazam a song for you because your own battery is dead. The ones who ask if you want to come in after you've been only walking by for days and the ones who prepare homemade croquetas in the middle of the night. Through some passages you torture yourself like through the winter in Berlin you actually wanted to escape from. But even a rainy morning can still turn into a sunny day. It might happen though that the sole of your shoe makes a smacking sound with every step because you've stepped in chewing gum before or that you run through the city with the widest smile and only realize in the evening that you had a crumb stuck between your front teeth. Anyway, soon I'm going to swap the view to other world known buildings for the TV tower again, the sea for the Tempelhofer Feld and the curtains on my hostel bed for the ones on the window of my room in the living community. And there, too, I'm sure I'll sit bored on a park bench staring holes in the air on some days or look at my own reflection in the subway window till I get off. But as long as there are a few new songs waiting for me in the shared playlist and I don't stop learning how to keep several jugglingballs in the air at the same time, I'll keep reminding myself that I don't have to be alone anywhere for long if I don't want to be. Still I don't know if now is the right time for the end, but who the hell knows stuff like that anyway? Recently I listened to a podcast in which Kloppo was a guest and at one point he said that when you look back on what happened, you shouldn't get the damn smile off your face and, what can I say? The shape of mine is good. Especially when I look forward.

Thu, Mar 7, 2024

100 Words for the Metro of Málaga

Sometimes you miss the last train like the deadline for a competition. Some days you have to wait for 3 minutes on the platform or for 52 seconds at the traffic lights until the digital green figure starts walking. You drive through the whole city or only cross the street. You get a foot in the door or accidentally head in the wrong direction without noticing. Whether above or under the ground, I believe we're all hoping to be in the right place at the right time when this one chance passes by. And when it's there: catch that train!

Fri, Feb 23, 2024

Keep Pushing

It happens that when I read too many words from others I lose my own in between. But sometimes they complement each other very well. For example, when Stephen King says in his book «On Writing» that adverbs in a text are like dandelions on a meadow. If you have one, it looks nice, but if the whole meadow is covered with them, you have to realize that they are weeds. Elsewhere, he writes that a story is already in the ground like a fossil and that writing is the excavation work to be able to recover it intact. And I like that. For me writing is more like a drop-in into a half-pipe. You stand up there, left (or right) foot on the tail, front truck free-floating and all you have to do is to make that step and find the courage to shift your weight forward. Every time I pick up a pen or open my laptop, I try to combine tricks. Sometimes you practise an ollie or a kick flip for weeks and you can formulate sentences for just as long. It's fun if it flows. Frustrating when it doesn't. Then I crumple up the paper or throw away the pen like a skater throws his deck. Only to turn around and pick it up again. To try again. To find other combinations and comparisons. To discover new opportunities and new spots. To test it out and exhaust it. Maybe that's what Bukowski meant when he said «Find what you love and let it kill you». At least thats what I'll keep thinking about when I'm lying on the floor after my next fall while looking at the sky. Only to get up again, pull the knee pads back in place and go back to that half-pipe. Ready for the next drop-in.

Mon, Feb 12, 2024

Two steps forward and one step back

Recently I was asked if we have an unnecessarily long word in our language and at that moment I didn't had an answer. But when I saw the new music video for the song Discount De Kooning by The Vaccines, I thought of one. In it you can see a Wacky-Waving-Inflatable Arm-Flailing-Tubeman. Also known as Airdancer. I don't think it's a real word, but a translation, nevertheless. The longer I travel as a digital nomad, the more I feel like a Wacky-Waving-Inflatable-Arm-Flailing-Tubeman myself. Huge, blown away and not knowing which way to go next. Since I swapped my front door key for a small padlock, I've sat in countless co-working spaces, in the audience of a film festival, sometimes cross-legged on a hostel bunk bed or all day by the sea while the sun made my shadow circle like an hour hand. Sometimes I was standing on the hose or suddenly in the dark under the shower because the other person in the room turned off the light when leaving. I swapped beer for toothpaste and in general the familiar for the unfamiliar. At times you feel lost and aimless despite the GPS location. But as long as the Wacky-Waving-Inflatable Arm-Flailing-Tubeman doesn't run out of air, he keeps moving and that's what I do. Even if it's just two steps forward and one step back. If you at least do a pirouette on the step back and shake the sand out of your pockets, it's not that bad.

Tue, Jan 23, 2024

Reactions

Sometimes I don't understand how the world and all its processes work at the same time. How trees photosynthesize, bees produce honey, thunderclouds discharge or birds migrate south. Plus the human inventions such as the light bulb, the letterpress or the blinking cursor in a word document. Mathematical equations rise like yeast dough and things like soap bubbles, popcorn or crêpe Suzette were discovered by chance. I especially like the stories behind them, such as how a liqueur accidentally caught fire, when a French apprentice chef was supposed to cook for a crown prince. But he kept his cool and acted as if everything was going according to plan. And when I bought a typewriter a few years ago, a friend told me that today's computer keyboard layout is based on its mechanism. 150 years ago the purpose of it was to prevent the letter levers from getting caught in each other when typing. It was adopted simply because people had become used to it. I also find it fascinating how amplifiers and microphones transmit sound or the wavelength and chemistry between people. In between, the unwritten laws are written next to Murphy's law and champagne corks are popping when racing drivers stand on a winner's podium. Sometimes the electricity fails during the wildest punk rock concert and the band improvises with an acoustic set while the technicians try to solve the problem with flashlights in the background. Everything flows and everything reacts with each other. Sometimes it shoots into the air like a mentos drop in a coke bottle or you melt like a gummy bear in the sun. When I think about it, I wish I never have to leave so that I could be even more amazed by what happens when you quit habits and get out of your comfort zone. But it seems to me that Joan Didion was right when she wrote «It is easy to see the beginnings of things and harder to see the ends». And in the end, I think to myself, it all depends on how you've reacted to certain situations. What you've dared to do or what you've learned. Even if it's just how to squeeze a beer can vertically with the hands without cutting yourself on the metal.

Sat, Jan 20, 2024

Free Curbside

As I stood on the sidewalk watching the bulky waste being loaded, I was reminded that the things we once chose are not meant to last forever. The employees' hand movements meshed perfectly as the furniture parts moved from the kerb to the loading ramp, then landed on the loading area while the rattling and clattering mixed with the running engine. Cabinet parts and entire fridges that had been bought at some point, perhaps terminated by a forwarding agent, delivered wrapped in plastic foil and polystyrene, carefully unpacked and set up, now landed within seconds in a heap to be taken away. Someone used them to chill milk, beer or wine in it or pulled fresh laundry out of the screwed-together wooden boards until certain reasons, unknown to the observer, led to the point that they've had their days. Apartments so as basements are full of bent laundry racks or broken chairs. Smartphones full of numbers and digits associated with names and faces. What both have in common is, that certain decisions, reasons and twists lead to things being the way they are. It will remain a constant coming and going so as the changing of daylight or the colors of traffic lights. And between all of this, it is probably up to each of us to maintain the contacts and pieces of furniture so that they last as long as possible. They won't be around forever.

Fri, Dec 29, 2023

Halfway

Recently I was talking to a friend about how we think that you are at home where you don't just have your own living room. And now that I think about it, I realize that I've known some of these living rooms for several years now. Some of the doors are already open when I arrive out of breath on the fifth floor. Others have only recently been opened with a smile after I've rung the doorbell. For some, I even have a key. But they all have something in common: they are valuable and an invitation. Especially when it doesn't matter how long you haven't been there or for what reason. You say hello, ask how things are going and are happy to see each other. In some you should take your shoes off, in others not. Some have balconies, some don't. In some of them I know exactly which floorboard squeaks or what the picture on the wall is called. Even the office I work in feels like a living room. And in one of these rooms, I helped put together a cupboard this summer. You start by sorting the screws, studying the instructions, to discuss different approaches and open a bottle of wine. You start and then aren't able to finish. Instead you leave it half-build, go to sleep in the middle of it all or run towards the arriving train to get home. Perhaps things are never meant to be completely finished so that you never quite stop picking up where you left them. Anyway, as long as people are painting hearts on steamed-up windows, spending a few rounds at the bar, sharing leaf and filters like joy and sorrow, I won't stop believing that home is where you don't just have your own living room.

Thu, Nov 30, 2023

Speechless in Asturias

When I was told that the best way to learn a language is to speak it I realized, that I've done very little of that since I've been in Spain. Instead, I thought a lot, slept a lot, wrote a lot, walked a lot and learned a lot. As well as grammar rules and vocabulary, also how you don't even need words for some things. A hand movement that lights a lighter is enough to formulate a question. Or you lift the empty glass towards the bar and are served a new one a few moments later. And when I was asked if I would like to join a hike, I also learned that you have to accept the climb and the heart palpitations if you want to enjoy the view. Along the way, the ground will change from concrete to single stones to covered in leaves. And then you suddenly find yourself, under the false assumption that the ground is tread-proof, ankle-deep in mud. You can cry out in shock, curse or simply accept it as it is, laugh and reach for the offered hand so you don't lose balance completely. Standing still is not an option and getting your shoes muddy in a threesome is more fun than alone. And here's something I already knew: laughter is also a language. The most beautiful one.

Wed, Nov 15, 2023

To share what's missing

When a friend sent me a picture of his old backpack and asked if it would fit my vision it reminded me that I should share my thoughts more often in order to move forward. At this time I was looking for a backpack for my upcoming trip that will fit everything of which I think I'll need it on the road and not make me look like a backpacker at the same time. I found myself in a similar situation once already at the beginning of the year when I wanted to see a sold-out show of an comedian without having a ticket. So, as so often before, I left the house not knowing what's going to happen and stood with the hands in my pockets in front of the venue. Other people moved with a search-for-ticket-cardboard through the crowd and after a while I thought to myself «C'mon! Do something! How is anyone supposed to know what you're looking for?» Instead of writing a cardboard myself I pulled out the phone and opened the secondhand marketplace app. And lo and behold: There was a ticket offer. Handover nearby the entrance... Red jacket, light-colored jeans... right time, right place, lucky me! And yet I know that sometimes you get in and sometimes you don't. That the cards are reshuffled after a round of UNO and the figures are set up again after a checkmate. Sometimes you roll the dice forever for a six to be able to take part in the game at all. And then you get knocked out just before the finish line and go back to square one. Someone deals the cards and someone opens the game. Maybe someone is even trying to cheat but with a bit of luck you can wish for a color inbetween or change the direction. The American writer Josh Billings said: «Life consists not in holding good cards but in playing those you hold well.» And well here I am weighing up my deck or puting all my eggs in one basket. And ideally, I still have an ace up my sleeve when needed.

Fri, Oct 27, 2023

Once too strong, sometimes too weak

It's been a long time since I've used a coffee machine other than my own. I stood in front of it not sure whether this was the right amount of spoonfuls of powder for the amount of water. I wondered why, because it's just like home, but somehow it wasn't. But that's the way it is. Everyone has their own inner workings and needs their own dosage. This applies to filter coffee machines as well as to the person standing in front of them. Sometimes the filter flips and the brew doesn't taste good. Or it boils down for hours on the hotplate and after drinking hands are shaking and the heart flutters. Sometimes the cup has a crack or you spill it because you get caught on the door frame while walking with it through the apartment. As I watched the jug fill up I thought to myself: Oh what the hell. It's the mixture of it all. It can't be full-bodied, aromatic, hot and steaming all the time. More than once what you're served with is just bitter and gets cold. It seems to me that coffee could be like many other things in life: it wakes you up, but too much makes you tired.

Wed, Oct 25, 2023

The Most Normal Thing in the World

Yesterday my way home took me past three water cannon trucks standing at the bus stop as if they wanted to stick to the timetable as well. I asked myself again how it's possible not to despair about the things that happen in the world, while you yourself are kind of happy. One possible answer for me is music. Because it melodices my thought loops, keeps me awake and moving. Music brings me among people or, like yesterday, put me at the foosball at an 80s-Party while the dancing mob roars along with the Don't stop believing, hold on to that fee-eaea-ling-song. The course of the game was in my hands and my eyes followed the ball under the headlights and spots of the spinning disco ball. A mixture of adrenaline and endorphins ensured that I threw my arms up in jubilation before I pushed the score cube one further. But, as is so often the case, the game wouldn't work if the person on the oppostite side wouldn't be there. And when the ball hit the square feet of the figures I felt the force in my grips. Strangers became my team with whom I toast to a won or lost match. During some evenings you hear names that you won't forget that quickly and it all starts with people being strangers at first doesn't it? As I sit here the morning after, reminiscing, wishing that my pitch would always be covered with confetti and cups on the sideboard, the sun rises over the roof of the opposite house and this seems to be the most normal thing in the world. At least for now.

Sun, Oct 22, 2023

Never lose your Sparkle

When I painted my fingernails with a nail polish called «Less bitter more glitter», a friend replied to me in an amused voicemail that he didn't know that nail polishes had real names, but that it made sense somehow. And I realized that I wasn't really aware of it either.

Sometimes you only become aware of things when others point them out. And sometimes it's just when situations are there that you thought would come a little later. Like when I'm asked if I'm aware that we will meet someone new at some point if we decide to stay friends after a break-up. And yea, yea, I was kind of aware of that. Except not that someday isn't someday at all, but right now. And here I am in my appartement, painting fingernails, listening to Alanis Morissette who is asking me «Isn't it ironic?» and feeling like somebody old. And while I'm waiting for the nail polish to dry, a scene pops up in my mind when I was sitting next to a man on the train who was talking out loud on the phone. He quoted a piece from a speech given at a 93rd birthday party: «Make the most of it. Enjoy the patch of land you're on, the fresh air...»

And here I am again.

On a patch of land. Or rather, on 30m² of rented laminate flooring.

Fresh air in Berlin? Oh well.

But I'm making the best of it, because hey, my fingernails are sparkling now.

Tue, Aug 8, 2023

Showtime

Recently someone asked me a random question: When was the last time you really had fun? And it was as if this question raised the curtain to a stage that had become a little run down. It still functioned as a stage, but it needed new shine. The floorboards to be sanded down and repainted - the spotlights realigned. The curtain needs a wash. All in all: a general overhaul. A play with a pinch of everything should be performed on this stage again. A bit of comedy, a bit of drama, parody. A romcom if you like, just no horror please. At the end of the play, I would like to leave with the feeling that time has been forgotten while laughing and crying during the show. One because of the other of course. And even if you have to put on the soundtrack yourself or compose it first and play every violin yourself. This means you are architect, director, dramaturge and, above all, amateur in one. But there ist one thing: Dress rehearsals doesn't exist. Every day is showtime. Sometimes you forget your lines, the heel of the shoe breaks or the audience boos. But the good thing is: Nobody knows what's part of the play and what isn't. That's why you can say something silly or fall heavily drunk in the orchestra pit. A bad review, so what? It doesn't have to be perfect. All that is needed is smart improvisation, confident appearance with complete cluelessness and the will to raise the curtain over and over and over again. In the end, it's the sum of the moments spent together. Maybe there will be a round of applause, maybe there wont. As long as it stays in the heart, thoughts and memory, it was good. And in the beginning there are the questions followed by the answers you receive and give. When was the last time you really had fun? So here's my answer: This morning, when I wrote this text and stepped foot on that stage again. What's yours?

Thu, July 27, 2023