Sure, there's a guitar sitting in my living room, and it has sat there quietly for the past few months as I've been mucking around with work and everything else. Guitar has never come easily to me, but it sure came better when I actually played regularly.
I miss singing in the Alboraya choir, too. Lynne has had a few concerts throughout this year, and I always liked hearing the reports; a chance to live vicariously.
Fortunately, it's not been a total disaster. I've finally loaded my laptop with a couple of gig worth of music and that's been a real benefit. A friend told me about a little PC subwoofer system he bought for 30 Euros, and I found it to be excellent. It may not be the best way for me to have music floating around (I'd much prefer the wall of sound stereo components), but it's certainly filling the void.
Though I've got a buddy who does play locally in Frankfurt (this Saturday is his next show), I've not seen too many shows. However, I have seen a couple, and have also had several nice discussions about lots of different music groups and styles.
From those discussions, I've listened to some stuff I never would have discovered otherwise, and on the flip side, I've got a few people listening to Alkaline Trio and Course of Empire around Bornheim. That's flippin' cool.
One of my goals for the year was to get a few more CDs played on the stereo in the pub. Once the pub reopened under Ray, I was able to slip a few things into the changer, and I'm personally glad about a double disc of Alkaline Trio that's made it into rotation on a semi regular basis.
But, it seems that a lot of folks like a bit more fiddly type music in an Irish pub. My argument that we could just play more Flogging Molly and the Dropkick Murphys met with a bit of push back; the idea is not to have the music force the patrons to go to another establishment.
After listening to some of the more mainstream selections the pub was playing, I realized that I might have the perfect CD lying around: a four CD compilation of music we referred to as "underground" back at the end of the 80s and early 90s. While there are several popular songs on the comp, the majority of the songs really make you say, "wow, I always liked that song but just didn't hear it that much."
Certainly, this stuff didn't really have a big place on the radio airwaves, especially after George Gimarc left Dallas radio. Since that was way before Internet radio, we were forced to keep trading music tips amongst ourselves. That went really well until we got more and more busy with jobs and families and stuff and had less time to peruse the diminishing alternative record stores about.
Last Friday when the light bulb went on, I scrounged around in my drawer and found my CD which has this tasty compilation, then took it over to the pub and asked Ray to play it some time. He put it in immediately, and without further ado, people were sort of perking up saying, "wow, what's this?"
Several hours later, I told John how pleased I was that my CD was still playing. I was a bit nervous, since after the four Cd's of 80s rock there were two discs of some pretty lively punk (under the compilation known as "rock against bush") and didn't want the barman to get riled up. Sometimes punk is perfect in the pub, and other times even I'll admit that perhaps we should listen to something else.
I was the last man standing at the pub that night, due in part to the cool music and due in part to the good crowd at the pub that night. Stefan was around, John was there, I had a cool chat with Nathalie (she, like John, has been recently introduced to COE), and Simone came in with her sister and a friend. All in all, quite the nice evening.
In fact, the evening went a bit too well. I spent most of Saturday trying to get motivated to get out of bed. I skipped the gym, the shopping, and all the other stuff I had planned to do, and tried to remember if I'd really had a shot of tequila or not.
I did get to the store for milk and bread before I had my German class, then proceeded to get a real schooling in Genativ, Dativ, and Akkusativ: it's the German version of the subjunctive in Spanish. Talk about really difficult...
At the close of class, Ninjaa and I walked next door to have a drink, and ran into Max, Heike and Stefan, who all helped me to pronounce the name Simone. You'd think this wouldn't be that difficult for me, but as it turns out, I've been butchering this poor girl's name, and frankly, I'm embarrassed. (I would like to point out that it's my tendency to use Spanish pronunciation with a lot of German words; I'm struggling to break that habit)
I'd intended to have only one guinness, but that led to a second, then a third. Why? The tunes were super groovy, okay? I looked down to the end of the bar to see Ninjaa singing along to a Sisters of Mercy track, and then watched her get even more psyched up when Joy Division came on. Gotta love it.
Stefan talked me into heading down the street to our old standby, Sugar. There, we had a few margaritas each, and that right there would have made for a nice Saturday night. We had all the intentions of calling it a night, but then we ran into Abu, who told us that we should go down to a place called Chameleon (Karma Karma). Why not?
The place was supposedly just a few more meters down Berger Strasse, but just when we thought we weren't going to be to find it, we rounded a corner to see a bouncer standing outside the bar.
Inside we went, telling each other we'd each have a beer, then get on home. Abu appeared out of nowhere, then Howie (a German regular at the pub who happens to love John Hughes films) showed up and invited us to, er, a couple of shots of Jagermeister.
I really think had we stopped after the one shot, I would have been OK, but caution was flapping around in a gale storm, so of course we had another shot or two along with a few beers.
Stefan danced, and Howie and I exchanged a few "Bueller? Bueller?"s with each other.
Finally I came to my senses and signalled Stefan. It was time to go.
All right, that meant that Stefan agressively tried to push the door open to get out of the club; unfortunately the doors opened in, much to the irritation of the bouncer.
Out on the street, I immediately headed in the wrong direction, and Stefan pointed the right way. We staggered back down the street, and what should have been a simple 3 minute walk seemed to take quite a bit longer. During this time, Stefan talked to a bush, took a leak on some flowers, and misinterpreted a passerby's suggestion that "you shouldn't piss on the flowers; it's a 20 Euro fine" for a sexual solicitation, which prompted him to make a remark, which then set off the passerby, who was certainly not into that.
For a moment, I thought we'd have a bit of trouble, which none of us really wanted. It was more comical than anything else, and very much out of character, the agressive remarks, that is.
I had a quiet word with the stranger, and the scene melted into nothing.
Stefan and I stopped for a cigarette outside of the Irish pub, before I declined Stefan's invitation to sit down at an empty table. It was 5am, and time for bed.
Sunday, I couldn't feel my face. I don't know how I got up to watch the Arsenal match, and I'm not really sure that an Irish breakfast was a real good idea. Arsenal played well, and after the third score, another patron murmured, "Wow, that's real enthusiasm, Bryan," as I continued to sit there.
"There's really no reason to yell," I responded, and went on to explain that I'd had a rough night.
After the match, I thought I'd head to the gym, but ended up sitting at home watching Kids Incorporated on YouTube for a couple of hours before finally collapsing on the couch to watch a James Bond film on TV.
Monday came well enough, but I couldn't seem to get out of the house. At 8.30, I forced myself down the street to the U-Bahn, passing the Gelato shop that some people I know own. "Wow, looks like someone poured petrol on their patio furniture and torched it," I thought to myself while waiting a couple of extra moments to light a cigarette.
The work day was a catastrophe, but I got through, and willed myself into the gym, where I had a pathetic workout. I gave up after an hour, and headed for home.
As I passed the same Gelato shop (now without any furniture in front), I decided I'd better have a chicken salad for dinner, so trudged into the pub (like I'd actually have lettuce in my house!) where I found Stefan sitting at the bar.
We had a few chuckles as we compared stories from Sunday and Monday. Stefan remarked that I looked like shit, and of course I replied that I ALWAYS look like that. I did have a nice salad, then finished with brandy and port to hopefully settle my stomach, which was still feeling a bit unfriendly.
With PreFabSprout playing in the background, Ray told me that, indeed, a disgruntled guy who used to live above the Gelato shop had poured gasoline on the outdoor furniture and set fire to it around 3am the night before.
On the positive side, the temperature here is dropping into the high 40s at night, so not too many people are sitting outside; autumn is here. (On the not so positive side..HOLY SHIT, somebody burned something down in my neighborhood!)
So that's how my September has started. Hessen is quickly becoming a non smoking region. Those of you on the anti-smoke campaign can be happy that I've not been sneaking any more smokes on the trains.
It'd be nice if my work permit was back in force, but apparently it's going to take several weeks. That's not too cool, but we'll figure something out. Hopefully.
It strikes me that given my present residence/work situation, perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to go out two night on the trot and tie one on. However, I'm thinking it was EXACTLY what I needed.
So Stefan, vergißt du nichts Coconuts, Tanzen, und that Nancy Sinatra song, "Strawberries, Cherries, and ..."
Remember the tunes, listen to the tunes, and Alles wird gut.
keep the faith
bryan
iPods, song requests, and Advil can be sent to me at my address in Frankfurt.
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