Best way to hide sticky out ears

It's easy to superimpose Nazi Germany over Berlin the very first time you arrive. Brandenburg Gate crowds cheering! You see young trendy men easily imagined as Hitler Youth in another time. It creeps up everywhere.....and then 5 times on you can't see it quite as easily anymore. It's become phantom! It's a bit absurd! Like Spock here and Captain Kirk! Lest you forget what evil bastards they were however, you can always refresh your memory with Hitler's Willing Executioners: Ordinary Germans and the Holocaust D.J. Goldhagen. It might ruin your summer though! I got about 3/4 the way through before I decided I'd had enough. Perhaps a better option is to revise with the Sandemans Third Reich Berlin walking tour and reflect upon the past over a couple pints along the way.

Nazis? I hate those guys! But the gals are OK!

It has been brought to my attention that a lot of Jews who visit the Dominatrix or partake in S&M scenarios, often have a Nazi fantasy high on their list of priorities! Also, that there are a few Germans who like ones in which they get well punished for their former sins! A healthy exorcism of ghosts, we hope! Well, no one dies do they?

http://www.onthemedia.org/transcripts/2008/04/25/07
http://www.nyunews.com/news/2008/04/11/Film/Nazi-Documentary.Strikes.A.Nerve-3318537.shtml

New Zealand Little Catalina Little Cat Catalina...

Straight No Chaser - Part 1 of many....

Dicky vs Monk:

Dicky on one of his better days...

Tacheles Demon Squat Party Death Dance

Manifesto Infestación

roll the dice

if you're going to try, go all the
way.
otherwise, don't even start.

if you're going to try, go all the
way.
this could mean losing girlfriends,
wives, relatives, jobs and
maybe your mind.

go all the way.
it could mean not eating for 3 or 4 days.
it could mean freezing on a
park bench.
it could mean jail,
it could mean derision,
mockery,
isolation.
isolation is the gift,
all the others are a test of your
endurance, of
how much you really want to
do it.
and you'll do it
despite rejection and the worst odds
and it will be better than
anything else
you can imagine.

if you're going to try,
go all the way.
there is no other feeling like
that.
you will be alone with the gods
and the nights will flame with
fire.

do it, do it, do it.
do it.

all the way
all the way.

you will ride life straight to
perfect laughter, its
the only good fight
there is.

Bukowski

(just in case you thought I wrote it Bono)

Messages coming in from all sides...

Events this week were extraordinary! Night welding on the tram tracks! Spectacular! Obama arriving by police escort.......I stumbled across this.....fabulous VIP bombardment! That's true art! The police escort stretching from Prenzlauer Allee all the way down Unter den Linden towards Brandenburg Gate! Blue flashing lights and police green in hundreds of motorbikes, police cars and fancy black cars for Close Encounters of the Obama kind! He's not even President yet! Echos of Kennedy in the air! 'I am a doughnut!' Then there was the dog in the Spree frantic barking and his echo bouncing barks off Museum Islands museums. The biker gang and the David Lynch car accident! Tuned into something i was and it wasn't NZ pussy willows! Last night after near Ketamine death the solo police escort home.......a message from above!

And Faustian Chainsaw spoke the 777th truth

Now that's entertainment folks!

There is a message in here somewhere!

Cheers R'sters

Techno Viking Our Savior

Berlin music scene.........?

They seem to have two ways....techno and thrash metal! What these pussy whipped softy monotonous techno tossers need in 'Industrial Techno'! Tear down the wall!!! Get on the gimp mask let's go!!!

Kreuzberg dawns on Brettskis liquid dream

How come you dance so good?

Ich Bin Ein Berliner

A Doughnut has no place in Europe except Berlin!

The question was whether or not to start a Berlin blog? What then goes into that one? Must it all be German/Berlin related affair? It's all the same journey. I never did get around to posting NYC as there was just too much. So, let's now transfer the Berlin blog contents into here and close it down. Keep this ball rolling.........for what it's worth? Scrap book gibberish, musings and offerings of the absurd, or just odd and interesting photos. Wot Evah!

Shamon Mother Fucker

I'm blacker

Steven the Squirrel

Caesar salads and vermin...

Oh mother.......

Turn the lights down
Way down low
Turn up the music
Hi as fi can go
All the gang´s here
Everyone you know
It´s a crazy scene
Hey there just look over your shoulder
Get the picture?
No no no no .......(yes)
Walk a tightrope
Your life-sign-line
Such a bright hope
Right place, right time
What´s your number?
Never you mind
Take a powder
But hang on a minute what´s coming round the corner?
Have you a future?
No no no no .......(yes)
Well i´ve been up all night again
Party-time wasting is too much fun
Then I step back thinking
Of life´s inner meaning
And my latest fling
It´s the same old story
All love and glory
It´s a pantomime
If youre looking for love
In a looking glass world
Its pretty hard to find
Oh mother of pearl
I wouldnt trade you
For another girl
Divine intervention
Always my intention
So I take my time
I´ve been looking for something
Ive always wanted
But was never mine
But now Ive seen that something
Just out of reach - glowing -
Very holy grail
Oh mother of pearl
Lustrous lady
Of a sacred world
Thus: even zarathustra
Another-time-loser
Could believe in you
With every goddess a let down
Every idol a bring down
It gets you down
But the search for perfection
Your own predilection
Goes on and on and on and on
Canadian club love
A place in the country
Everyones ideal
But you are my favorita
And a place in your heart dear
Makes me feel more real
Oh mother of pearl
I wouldnt change you
For the whole world
Youre highbrow, holy
With lots of soul
Melancholy shimmering
Serpentine sleekness
Was always my weakness
Like a simple tune
But no dilettante
Filigree fancy
Beats the plastic you
Career girl cover
Exposed and another
Slips right into-view
Oh looking for love
In a looking glass world
Is pretty hard for you
Few throwaway kisses
The boomerang misses
Spin round and round
Fall on featherbed quilted
Faced with silk
Softly stuffed eider down
Take refuge in pleasure
Just give me your future
Well forget your past
Oh mother of pearl
Submarine lover
In a shrinking world
Oh lonely dreamer
Your choker provokes
A picture cameo
Oh mother of pearl
So so semi-precious
In your detached world
Oh mother of pearl
I wouldn´t trade you
For another girl

Ballard: What I believe

I believe in the power of the imagination to remake the world, to release the truth within us, to hold back the night, to transcend death, to charm motorways, to ingratiate ourselves with birds, to enlist the confidences of madmen.

I believe in my own obsessions, in the beauty of the car crash, in the peace of the submerged forest, in the excitements of the deserted holiday beach, in the elegance of automobile graveyards, in the mystery of multi-storey car parks, in the poetry of abandoned hotels.

I believe in the forgotten runways of Wake Island, pointing towards the Pacifics of our imaginations.

I believe in the mysterious beauty of Margaret Thatcher, in the arch of her nostrils and the sheen on her lower lip; in the melancholy of wounded Argentine conscripts; in the haunted smiles of filling station personnel; in my dream of Margaret Thatcher caressed by that young Argentine soldier in a forgotten motel watched by a tubercular filling station attendant.

I believe in the beauty of all women, in the treachery of their imaginations, so close to my heart; in the junction of their disenchanted bodies with the enchanted chromium rails of supermarket counters; in their warm tolerance of my perversions.

I believe in the death of tomorrow, in the exhaustion of time, in our search for a new time within the smiles of auto-route waitresses and the tired eyes of air-traffic controllers at out-of-season airports.

I believe in the genital organs of great men and women, in the body postures of Ronald Reagan, Margaret Thatcher and Princess Di, in the sweet odors emanating from their lips as they regard the cameras of the entire world.

I believe in madness, in the truth of the inexplicable, in the common sense of stones, in the lunacy of flowers, in the disease stored up for the human race by the Apollo astronauts.

I believe in nothing.

I believe in Max Ernst, Delvaux, Dali, Titian, Goya, Leonardo, Vermeer, Chirico, Magritte, Redon, Duerer, Tanguy, the Facteur Cheval, the Watts Towers, Boecklin, Francis Bacon, and all the invisible artists within the psychiatric institutions of the planet.

I believe in the impossibility of existence, in the humor of mountains, in the absurdity of electromagnetism, in the farce of geometry, in the cruelty of arithmetic, in the murderous intent of logic.

I believe in adolescent women, in their corruption by their own leg stances, in the purity of their disheveled bodies, in the traces of their pudenda left in the bathrooms of shabby motels.

I believe in flight, in the beauty of the wing, and in the beauty of everything that has ever flown, in the stone thrown by a small child that carries with it the wisdom of statesmen and midwives.

I believe in the gentleness of the surgeon's knife, in the limitless geometry of the cinema screen, in the hidden universe within supermarkets, in the loneliness of the sun, in the garrulousness of planets, in the repetitiveness or ourselves, in the inexistence of the universe and the boredom of the atom.

I believe in the light cast by video-recorders in department store windows, in the messianic insights of the radiator grilles of showroom automobiles, in the elegance of the oil stains on the engine nacelles of 747s parked on airport tarmacs.

I believe in the non-existence of the past, in the death of the future, and the infinite possibilities of the present.

I believe in the derangement of the senses: in Rimbaud, William Burroughs, Huysmans, Genet, Celine, Swift, Defoe, Carroll, Coleridge, Kafka.

I believe in the designers of the Pyramids, the Empire State Building, the Berlin Fuehrerbunker, the Wake Island runways.

I believe in the body odors of Princess Di.

I believe in the next five minutes.

I believe in the history of my feet.

I believe in migraines, the boredom of afternoons, the fear of calendars, the treachery of clocks.

I believe in anxiety, psychosis and despair.

I believe in the perversions, in the infatuations with trees, princesses, prime ministers, derelict filling stations (more beautiful than the Taj Mahal), clouds and birds.

I believe in the death of the emotions and the triumph of the imagination.

I believe in Tokyo, Benidorm, La Grande Motte, Wake Island, Eniwetok, Dealey Plaza.

I believe in alcoholism, venereal disease, fever and exhaustion. I believe in pain. I believe in despair. I believe in all children.

I believe in maps, diagrams, codes, chess-games, puzzles, airline timetables, airport indicator signs. I believe all excuses.

I believe all reasons.

I believe all hallucinations.

I believe all anger.

I believe all mythologies, memories, lies, fantasies, evasions.

I believe in the mystery and melancholy of a hand, in the kindness of trees, in the wisdom of light.

Play Offs Cometh

Kookoo kachoo coocoo cachooo!

Girlfriend

They say you have the face you deserve at 50

http://www.davidbyrne.com/

The drum machine

cEvin wAs alWays A sicK pUppy.....

B&B

Prank call

Song for Fifi La Poo

You asked for it...

Hmmmmm.....yes! Feels good don't it?

Amen

Diamanda

Make time!
Scroll down
http://www.arthurmag.com/pdfs/arthur28_2.pdf

Phoenix Milk Baby Rising

Times Square Tabula Rasa - NYC? Where to start? The end...

Too much was happening to even try blogging these NYC months. It will just have to live in my head!