aric with an a

As we found our way past the decrypted buildings and then in front of a Tadao Ando-made-church, we finally made it to the Wall. Strange how your memory has been taught to autobiographically process your own feeling associated with a place, despite knowing the main story of said landmark played of little of importance to your own life - which then, of course, makes us inherently selfish and in turn - evil? But if we’re evil, then why do we always wave to each other from boats? The Wall meant something - a name. A haunting recollection of what I walked away from to see a few things - a name, written right there on a piece of history. 3 letters. In red. With white borders. I remember this 2001 experience like it happened 5 minutes ago. I felt sick. Earlier, when I had first gotten to Berlin, I had felt hungry. I always feel hungry when traveling because I prioritize beers over food. I don’t mind this as I find people who travel in comfort miss out entirely on why we travel - otherwise, just buy the postcard. I was hungry and on about $20 a day. I had a lot I wanted to see and do and eating took a back seat. But I still needed to eat. I was 2 months out of the U.S. for the first time on my own. The bakery doors threw out pheromones and I went inside to inquire a price with their pimp. Too much for me. I walked into a downtrodden grocery store, the cashier either having not been told about the reunification or not being happy about it. But I found long and cold sausages for around a dollar. And a few rolls for half of that. I paid, walked out, sat down and pierced the dough with my mysterious link. To this day it still stands as one of the best meals I’ve ever had. No mustard, cheap salami, but I made this. I bought this and I made this. In Germany. I saw what I wanted to and dug the vibe of Berlin. There was money waiting for me in Prague and I had just enough for the train to the station and that’s all. No food for me that day, but that was okay. I could eat anytime. I unlocked my bag from my dorm room and threw it on my back. ‘Wait!’ shouted the Scandinavian at the desk, who last night had burned one of his dreadlocks with a candle. ‘Your deposit!’. It was about $3. $3!! When you’re looking at not eating that day, it could have been $3000 and I wouldn’t have smiled more. I laughed all the way down the stairs and found a tiny bar. If the walls were dirty I couldn’t tell. Candles were all around as the owner put down a paper plate with one large sausage and mustard in front of me. After the first bite and tug on the course lining, I counted how much I had left - about $1.50. Which was enough for the bus to the train. Or a beer.

I laughed the entire walk.

Now, I’ve been far-removed from good ole’ late-night infomercials, but after seeing this one, 2 things happened.

1. I wanted to hang out with him.

2. I wanted a slap-chop.

…and since then, I found out we had a slap-chop on the bus. So now, my friend Simone and I just want him at our birthday party.

Even famous enough to get his own Legoman.

We love you, Vince.

Hell, we loved you at Sham-Wow. Never mind the fact that you’re a failed Scientologist and have tried to sue them, along with Anna Nicole and The Farrelly Brothers.

Here’s the banner for the new show…exciting!

…and give it up for my models - you’d never know they were both gay, would you?

Suggestions?

2 days later and I’m still rough - but oh-my-gosh, what a party. A special thanks to my friend Gregor (who you might know from this blog), who made the whole thing possible. The final day was - as expected - big. 16-hours of beer, sausages and what I thought was regular tea (it turned out to be a tea/vodka/cherry schnapps mix).

The ‘project’ interview also went well - will know more about that over the next few coming weeks.

Speaking of projects, I took about 4 gig of video while there for a segment on another show I’m producing (for someone else - but they want to include my little trips in the show - and who am I to turn down public attention?), so will post that as soon as I can.

Per the new show - I can tell you know it’s called ‘Rough Sundays’ and I’m so, so keen on getting back to start recording, much in part to it’s a project being made possible by people that read this little blog.

That’s it.

So - Switzerland is amazing. Gorgeous and amazing.

To the left of the picture is where we spent yesterday with a test-run at Karneval.

It’s going to be nuts - it already has been.

Once again, I’ve been blessed with having a friend here who’s fed and given me a bed, or I’d have gone broke the first day - it’s the most expensive place I’ve ever been. It’s the most expensive place the nice Norwegian couple I met yesterday have ever been…and they’re from a very expensive place.

The people are wonderful, even the police on the train early this morning who kindly informed me I had purchased a child’s ticket from the confusing machine. I’m sure it’s actually a very nice and easy-to-understand machine, but said test-run lasted a good 14 hours and needless to say, there were a few beverages involved.

And that was the test-run.

I’m going to try to film tomorrow for a short piece in the new show I’m producing, but no promises.

Oh, how poetic and enlightening is this post, hmmmm? Hangovers + Slumdog Millionaire do not make for the most riveting of entries… So here, in exchange for wasting a good few minutes of your time, a language lesson. If you want to sound really, really local, then use ‘oi’ for ‘hello’.

The things you learn here, hmmmm?

This has to be one of the best neighborhoods in Berlin. It’s snowing heavily enough to keep most indoors, but we headed out for some Sunday afternoon vintage record/clothes browsing and ended up in 2 fantastic places - places worth noting should you ever be in Berlin.

The first has to be on a must-see list of some sort, but we just sort of wandered into it - The Clärchens Ballhaus.

The doorman are well into their 70’s, waiters in bow-ties sit you down and take your order before you either join, or watch with nostalgic envy, the middle of the wooden-floored room moves with ballroom dancing. Old and young alike. Simple, unpretentious fun with a historic flair - amazing place.

—

We walked holding hands with both fritte and Fruh Kolsch (the German equivalent of my new favorite snack of Red Stripe + Florida oranges) to the industrial artist commune of Tacheles…

Bleak during the Winter, but have heard from a few friends that in warmer-weather, this is the place to be. 6-7 levels of living/working space set all in a shopping space from 1909. Decent bar on top, but, as stated, come back around May and in the back is an open air spot, complete with an old bus modified to a bar and you’re looking at the place to be. Inside was exactly what you’d want your East German scene to be - lots of darkened hallways leading to tiny rooms housing everything from a life size horse made out of a shopping cart and an ‘erotic’ section that even made Alonso & I blush - and we don’t blush.

All of this in 3 hours.

It’s almost 6am Berlin time - I’m should be tired, but this jet-lag has a bitchy way of, if ignored, simply goes away and lets you be awake…not that I wouldn’t be after a short walk from bar #3 to bar #4 tonight, alongside my friend Tobias, who I first met in Yangoon, Myanmar.

We’re in the Eastern Side of the wall, where we stay - in fact, one look from a photo and Tobias immediately knew where we were staying, as he used to live in this area as a child. The Eastern Side. As a child. Does that mean anything to you? It didn’t used to mean anything to me until I first came to Berlin in 2000, so don’t feel bad. I don’t even remember The Berlin Wall fall reaching Oklahoma - I’m sure it did, but it wasn’t more important than Michael Jordan. But for Tobias, it was different - he just didn’t just live on the East side, he lived right up against the split.

My questions of ‘well, didn’t you visit Paris or London as a kid?’ - normal questions to ask most from the area, were met with a kind laugh. No, he didn’t. He and his family were quite acquainted with Eastern Europe, but summers in Spain? No. They simply weren’t allowed. 11 years-old and you can’t visit others - some family members - in your own country. I don’t want to sound like an insurance agent when I say this, but think about that.

You. Can’t. Go. Over. There.

But this wasn’t the story that got me - interesting as anything, of course, but it was about life after The Fall. Right after.

‘What did you do?’

‘What was it like?’

Crazy, he said. Crazy.

He was only 11 at the time, but he remembers it being crazy.

And he remembered that the government gave 100 marks in reunification money and his mother went and bought a few boxes of Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes - one of the happiest days he can remember.

Think about that.

This made me think about a lot of things, but one was when I first came here, 8 years ago and splurged on buying a pass to Checkpoint Charlie and in there, I saw a photo that moved me to a point of, again, tears. You can see it here - not really clear, but you can make out what’s happening.

This is one of the first cars to drive from the East to the West. What you can’t make out is the expressions on the faces of the people in the car. I remember this like I remember my first beer - and seeing things like this are as important as taking the time to pick a good first name for your child.

Tonight, a long-lost friend remarked that ‘I would love to know what has shaped you into this person you have become’ and it’s this, these 6-minute walks…

It has nothing to do with me.

I’m starting to realize that most of my funks come from being stalemate. So I start a project - and this is one that I actually had in mind once I moved somewhere where I could set up a decent microphone, but decided yesterday to try something.

See - for some reason, a lot of people visit this site. I don’t know why, I really don’t, but about 1000+ a day…more when I get into trouble. So that’s a lot of folks.

Visits, I have. Funding for the new show, I don’t (had I brought my debit card down here to the beachside pub, I would have gone ahead and bought the domain name and told you the idea I have for the new music show, but I didn’t, so trust me on this), so I at least wanted to feel out our little community we have here.

Would asking $45 a show for sponsorship be too much? The portable mixer I need to get started while on-the-road runs $450, so if 10 people wanted to advertise whatever it is they do, or any cause they’re trying to get out, then I could get it paid for. This could be your business, your favorite charity, anything really (except religion or wicker - I will never back either). You’d get a link on the page and 3 mentions during the hour-long show.

O.M.K.O.S. was getting about 20,000 listens a month so it could be good. Or not. I don’t know, but was just thinking of a way to start on the show early.

It’s purely selfish, me going in early with this - I admit that. I just need something to do and this was something I’ve been excited about for a few months now. But I’m not going to get my feelings hurt if it doesn’t either.

Thoughts?

Is $45 too much?

Does anyone know of a better mixer that runs with XLR mikes?

Or am I an asshole?

Update! Funded!!!!

Show #1 - [S.O.S. Outreach - Vail, Colorado]

Show #2 - [Undisclosed Person - Los Angeles, California]

Show #3 - [Gregor Kaelin - Switzerland]

Show #4 - [Al - a cold and snowy England]

Show #5 - [Rz - undisclosed location]

Show #6 - [Michael in Madison]

Show #7 - [Louis in Vancouver]

Show #8 - [Alex, Metro Alum, Chicago]

Show #9 - [Erin, Tulsa]

Show #10 - [April, Baltimore]

…and we officially have a show!

I mentioned this in the comments, but I want to here as well - this meant a lot to me; the funding, of course, but also the support that so many have shown.

Show will start as soon as I’m back!

Thank you.

I should know better than to start one of these ‘Day 01′ scripts, but….erm, no. It’s cold here - snowing lightly, actually. Alonso and I landed yesterday, were met at the airport by Pierre’s brother, Thibault, and then cabbed it to Alonso & Nicky’s flat.

It’s in mitte (middle), on the east side of the Wall with more galleries and pastry shops then you know what to do with. The galleries that will soon hold Nicky’s newest installation (it’s just to my left - amazing) and the shops that Alonso and I eat in everyday because we’re broke. I have never felt so un-trendy…having spent most of my past 4 months in both India and Florida equals a few steps back in the ole’ style game. And the people - gorgeous. I mean, say what you want to about the Holocaust (not you, Mr. Gibson), but their vanity of being the only living beings did have a bit of merit - you wouldn’t want Scotland taking over, now would you?

But it’s nice - the times I’ve been here before, it’s when I had to pay for accommodation and in turn, made myself go out and see - in true American Tourist fashion - all of the city. There are cobbled streets that can be leisurely strolled on, a church bell right outside our balcony that goes off in our direction at 7p, almost as if intentionally. Beer with lunch and coffee with dinner -  this time it’s nicer. And they sell Lucky Strike Lights.

The show is about funded, which not only makes me even more happy, but the messages (both public and private) from you meant the world - I’m quite sure that the driving factor from it was people wanting me to get out of this funk, and not about the music.

Which makes me even more happy.

I had forgotten how much I adored Germany. This is fun already.

[photo l-to-r: my new pal Sam, Alonso and Thibault - Pierre's younger brother]