What is the right thing to wish for?
Pick any bad word.
Berlin was bombed to the flat during the War so there are all kinds of parks and flat lands, abandoned buildings, abandoned air strip landings.
Only bad words, real curse words, can describe the true nature of Berlin.
Even though I don’t live there, and I don’t plan to live there, I think about the city A LOT.
Living in California now, to my huge surprise, I’m having recurrent, amazing flash backs of the month that I lived in Berlin, and I long to go back to the little studio by the train station, cabbing it to bad ass disco clubs in abandoned electricity generating plants at night and dance the night away until 2AM, where no one cares. I saw people entering the club at 2PM on Friday afternoon and did not emerge until 9AM Monday morning…crying, “water…water…” As I closed the taxicab door, someone reached in and asked me, “Do you have Magic?” Maybe he was asking for the real thing, but I think he was asking for drugs.
I saw a woman dancing like no one was watching. I saw some British young guys dancing with steps like no one’s business. I saw so many young Berliners working hard during the day like they are competing against world.
Neighbors come out and eat fork-and-knife at local pizzerias. Teenagers get kebab sandwiches from the ‘Doner’ man by the bahn (train station). Doner man saw me coming to buy a doner everyday because he knew that I didn’t speak German so couldn’t order from other people and he knew that I could only order from him because he spoke a little bit of English. Supermarkets in Berlin are silent for music, just quiet and calm. Old men approve quiet.
We love Gesaffelstein. I miss Berlin. The only way to re-live is to have a house party!
I feel in America we don’t use our public space nearly as adventurously as we could. Maybe, maybe an old fashioned train station in Philadelphia could become the next Gesaffelstein set in Amish Country.
What did you do today that made you happy?
Such a nice forum, so French.
Benito, the master cobbler in Sunnyvale California revived my favorite shoes.
The shoes had been scrapped, scratched by walking on cobble stone streets on the East Coast.
The cobble stone streets of Boston and Washington DC are beautiful to look at for but terrible women’s shoes. The pointy heels fall into the cracks, and either you, the wearer fall, or if you drag your foot up and out you scrap the shoe heel.
It’s very strange how an email from a younger friend inspired me to write a post about those cobbled streets of Georgetown.
My younger friend has light brown hair and baby blue eyes, fair skin w some freckles, w the classic Welsh/Irish look. But she is 1/4 Chinese. I’ve taken her on as my younger sister. There are just some people that I draw inspiration from their quiet mysteries.
She wants to live in the parries, wear cowboy boots, and love a blue-collar man who works with his hands.
She does’t have any attractions for men with big wallets, big power, big jobs, or big DC ambitions who fly first class. But for me, Washington DC holds mysteries because some really spectacular things happened there to me even though every summer it is too humid and every fall the politicians threaten to cut off the budget.
It’s a nice, gorgeous email that inspired a post about a magic cobbler in Sunny California.
1. Brewla ice pops.
2. Long, long naps in the afternoon, every afternoon.
3. Tart cherry juice, iced.
4. Macrobiotics dinner, Monday night.
5. Adored, not lifting a finger. Such wonderful date.
6. Another rescue on the flight. This time, in first class.
7. Imagining about a foldable tricycle.
8. Aiming for 530AM workouts.
9. Goals on Monday.
10. Sleep as if I died. Eating in bed, very late at night, w bear legs.
What are my favorite bloggers doing?
1. Niniane – is building a company.
2. Corey – is visiting Willows.
3. Karina – is renovating a French castle.
4. Mie – is schooling her children in Japan.
5. Scott – is shooting photos in Rome.
6. Sarah is eating beauty everyday (and writing a book).
What are the people in my life doing?
1. Joe is camping.
2. Ariana is visiting her grandma.
3. Mom is volunteering at the library.
4. John is studying for a test.
5. Hamilton is volunteering in Sunday School.
6. Filip is growing a company.
7. Elina is feeding a strayed cat…and threatening her 3 boys that if they don’t behave they’re going to be sent to a foster home.
Things that I will miss so much about living in California…
1. My niece & our PJ party w summer theater at the Palo Alto Children’s Theater.
2. Living close to my brother and SIL.
3. 90 minute massage w Linda.
4. Sauna spa at Immersion Spa.
5. Monday Night Macrobiotic Dinners.
6. Highway 280, oh the view of Half Moon Bay in the misty early morning.
7. Hot days, cool nights.
8. Real summers. The sun on the skin in the afternoon.
9. Amazing salads. (And tacos. Sushi. Ramen. Clean foods. Done right).
10. Jin Sho
11. Kannon Do, and our beloved abbot.
12. Having the California license plate – just feels cool.
13. Wearing whites.
14. Wearing very little clothing during most of the year.
15. Huddart Park.
16. The hum of Woodside.
18. Pretending to be a Californian. Granola crunchy Sun Country supermarket on California Avenue.
19. The cattle grazing beautiful view.
20. Living, in downtown Palo Alto.
But I still love DC very much, maybe a little bit more because there is no threat of the ‘Big One’ or the draught of running out of water in DC.
It is so wonderful to be called dear.
If it’s said heartfelt. With ease.
There is a young hipster waiter in San Francisco in the Mission District who works at a hip Vietnamese restaurant, who always calls his customers, “My Dear.”
“My dear, are you all right? Do you need more water?”
“My dear! Your pho is gonna be coming out soon.”
Of course, there is another way to say this, with that husky voice by a man almost 4 decades older than the waiter lad.
Incessantly checking stock values in a sea of laptops
How bizarre, however now I am watching the same
Flickering above points, temperature rise
Uncertainty in the hottest period of this year
Temporary relieve is an accountant’s play
Ice cubes stacked
At least sleep last night was long and peaceful
The air is so still
The detours are so long
But the quarterback knows that he needs to run to the end zone
Better create some values for the world
On the other hand a black lacy bodysuit from the 20’s resurfaces
In those arms by those whispers we will retrieve, you’re my relieve
Boston, snowed in, gray but calm, The Four Seasons, halftime, 14-14 Seattle Seahawks vs. The New England Patriots. The bar smells of truffle oil, everyone at the bar is from the west coast. When has the burger become studded w avocado, fried eggs, bacon, and truffle oil?
Such a Terrible game for the body and the player’s brain, but awesome in every way about courage, loss, glory and taking the blow for the team, a real guy’s guy game that even a meditative woman can enjoy once a year….crazy 2 weeks. Half time 14-14. Go Seattle, I mean Patriots, no, Seattle….errrrrrrrrrrr. Oh my God. 24-21, 2 minutes to go. Happy 7th birthday to this sweet little blog that was started on Super Bowl Sunday 2008.