"I beg you, friend, be happy. I have the vague sense that on your capacity to be happy hangs our only hope."
"Why write this book? No one has asked me for it. Especially those to whom it is directed. Well? Well, I reply quite calmly that there are too many idiots in this world. And having said it, I have the burden of proving it."
Tag Archives: travel writing
“In GDR, you amused park…,” I always laughed to myself. The reason I’d never been inside had nothing to do with my repressed fear of all things clown, circus, carny or even county fair. No. And neither did the idea of … Continue reading
I’m only on the other side of the river and up the street from where I used to live–maybe a mile and a half away from the old place–of course, twenty some years ago that would have been quite an extreme move. I’d … Continue reading
Steamed my first sticky rice in the new Wohnung last night. Listened to my first news and paced the floor for the first time. My drawers and shelves are full. I’ve flushed the toilet a few times now, taken two … Continue reading
Got my assed kick, my ass kicked and my assed kicked at work. All week. And then we got up and cried together…then we got moved. Got student movers–three Iraqi guys–to do the heavy lifting and we still got our butts kicked. But … Continue reading
Got me the keys to the new pad. Now I just need a lightbulb or five. And fixtures in which to screw ’em. Not a light in the whole place…just bare wires…typical for Germany. I was lucky the place came … Continue reading
My afternoon student, Magdalena, was apparently some princess of Prussia. Sorry, The Princess of Prussia. The next in line to the German throne, after her brother, were something to happen to him. If. “Can I, with thee, talk?” my boss … Continue reading
Up the cool echoing stairs from the U-bahn, pausing to lay a cigarette between my lips, to light, to inhale, to light again, and to take a long, off-work-for-the-day drag off that cigarette—basically, a nicotine sigh—I turned the corner out … Continue reading