Dienstag, 27. April 2010
Sonntag, 25. April 2010
Samstag, 24. April 2010
Donnerstag, 22. April 2010
People are afraid
"People are afraid to merge on freeways in Los Angeles. This is the first thing I hear when I come back to the city. Blair picks me up from LAX and mutters this under her breath as she drives up the onramp. She says, "People are afraid to merge on freeways in Los Angeles."
Though that sentence shouldn't bother me, it stays in my mind for an uncomfortably long time. Nothing else seems to matter. Not the fact that I'm eighteen and it's December and the ride on the plane had been rough and the couple from Santa Barbara, who were sitting across from me in first class, had gotten pretty drunk. Not the mud that had splattered on the legs of my jeans, which felt kind of cold and loose, earlier that day at an airport in New Hampshire. Not the stain on the arm of the wrinkled, damp shirt I wear, a shirt which looked fresh and clean this morning. Not the tear on the neck of my gray argyle vest, which seems vaguely more eastern than before, especially next to Blair's clean tight jeans and her pale-blue shirt.
All of this seems irrelevant next to that one sentence. It seems easier to hear that people are afraid to merge than "I'm pretty sure Muriel is anorexic" or the singer on the radio crying out about magnetic waves. Nothing else seems to matter to me but those ten words. Not the warm winds, which seem to propel the car down the empty asphalt freeway, or the faded smell of marijuana which still faintly permeates Blaire's car. All it comes down to is the fact that I'm a boy coming home for a month and meeting someone whom I haven't seen for four months and people are afraid to merge. "
Bret Easton Ellis - Less Than Zero.
Though that sentence shouldn't bother me, it stays in my mind for an uncomfortably long time. Nothing else seems to matter. Not the fact that I'm eighteen and it's December and the ride on the plane had been rough and the couple from Santa Barbara, who were sitting across from me in first class, had gotten pretty drunk. Not the mud that had splattered on the legs of my jeans, which felt kind of cold and loose, earlier that day at an airport in New Hampshire. Not the stain on the arm of the wrinkled, damp shirt I wear, a shirt which looked fresh and clean this morning. Not the tear on the neck of my gray argyle vest, which seems vaguely more eastern than before, especially next to Blair's clean tight jeans and her pale-blue shirt.
All of this seems irrelevant next to that one sentence. It seems easier to hear that people are afraid to merge than "I'm pretty sure Muriel is anorexic" or the singer on the radio crying out about magnetic waves. Nothing else seems to matter to me but those ten words. Not the warm winds, which seem to propel the car down the empty asphalt freeway, or the faded smell of marijuana which still faintly permeates Blaire's car. All it comes down to is the fact that I'm a boy coming home for a month and meeting someone whom I haven't seen for four months and people are afraid to merge. "
Bret Easton Ellis - Less Than Zero.
Samstag, 17. April 2010
Aqualand
Montag, 5. April 2010
Montag, 29. März 2010
Good News!
Sonntag, 28. März 2010
Donnerstag, 11. Februar 2010
Un poco de Barcelona

Während in Deutschland bei "knackigen" -25 Grad vor sich hingefroren wird, sind die
Barcelonesen schon bei 15 Grad + (gestern) unzufrieden und mit dicken Pelzen begleitet.
Auf obigem Foto allerdings nicht. Dieser Platz heißt darum auch "Plaza del Sol". Etwas
hippieesk das Ganze, aber sehr gemütlich.
Otro cosa: Die Ampeln sind in dieser Stadt nur zur Zierde oder um zu beweisen, dass überhaupt irgendeine Ordnung herrscht. Motto: Gehe, wenn kein Auto in der Nähe ist.
Ich werde in loser Folge ein paar Impressionen posten.
Dies ist das Haus von Hello Kitty.

Kopflos in Barcelona. Für Touristen als auch für einheimische Schausteller, die einfach dieZeit für sich arbeiten lassen.
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