Crossfit Mean Streets group pic (L.A.)

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Here's a nice nice group pic of the Mean Streets bunch. They're all smiling so this was probably snapped before the daily exercise regiment....  

Crossfit Mean Streets

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Joggers abound in Paris

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Parisians certainly do like to jog! The weather has been 90% cold and crappy during my visit yet the Parisians lace up their running shoes and trot out. In fact, this morning while having breakfast I looked up and saw a group of fit men in matching navy blue sweatshirts and red shorts jogging about. Not a one of them wore a skull cap or gloves. I think they were firemen recruits...but since I don't read French I couldn't discern what was written on the back of their shirts. For sure they were all white. Paris has lots of black - and I mean BLACK! - people but none of them feel compelled to run in the cold ass morning in short ass shorts and no head covering. Since there was no rainbow on these joggers' shirts and since it was also unfashionably cold as #%@! I don't think it was another homosexual rights group 

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Mitfahrgelenfucked

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Ridesharing, or hitch-hiking, in Europe is still common and lawful (unlike our free America). One popular connection site is a German one called Mitfahrgelegenheit.de, which is German for "rideshare", but, unfortunately the Germans who post rides on the website are less than typically organized and upfront. In fact, they are goddamn liars.


Twice - twice! - in one day last week I was burned by German drivers offering rides to Basel, Switzerland. Possibly it was the same jerk who posted two separate announcements but, either way, he flaked out and I was left stranded wondering what to do asap. In short I was mitfahrgelegenfucked. That is not a pleasant position in which to be. With my Swiss travel plans screwed I managed to get a bed in the very happening Berlin hostel, St-Christopher's Inn on Rose-Luxemburg Strasse, for 13.50euros.

In short I was mitfahrgelegenfucked

Stayed two nights when a last-minutes rideshare to Paris came through (50euros). It was through the same website BUT the driver/organizer was French, not German. The ride was twelve hours long but comfortable.
And unlike German drivers we actually took bathroom breaks! Yes, a stick-up-his-ass German would honestly try to drive to Paris, France, from Berlin, Germany sans any stop that wasn't related to a gasoline fill-up.


Arrived to Paris with no problems and plenty of good music en route. Unfortunately it was raining by the time of our arrival. A rainy night in Paris....

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A band called Trike (Berlin)

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Whilst riding the typically quiet U-Bahn subway two days ago passengers were entertained by a shamelessly ridiculous pair of Canadian musicians called Trike. Their brand of music is electro-art-pop. That's the normal part. Their appearance is another matter.

He, the electric keyboardist, is a tall, lanky blond who looks every bit the starving artist. She, the tap dancer/front man, is a be-striped, polka-dot wearing performer of so many bright and uncomplimentary colors that one might've disbelieved his own eyes! The show opened with his barker's voice announcement of their "Bubble" song and her added effect of blowing soap bubbles. They both sang (and, yes, homegirl actually tap danced a diddy) poptistically loud and upbeat -- about soap bubbles. 

amusing, yet utterly ridiculous, song-and-dance

Ever stare at someone's audacity to make utter fools of themselves in the spirit of Now-or-never? That's what this was like. We were so shocked and embarrassed for them that we just had to watch their amusing, yet utterly ridiculous, song-and-dance. It was fun. And guess what. In the end we all applauded and laughed. I even overheard one guy invite them to play at his next party! Those Canucks made pretty good tips, too. Not bad! So that's what it takes to make Germans crack a smile: a Canadian band called Trike.
www.trikeaband.com
trikefangroup@gmail.com    

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"Andorra" (Berlin)

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This past Friday I attended the last performance of Andorra at the Berliner-Ensemble Theater. The theatre is one of those nice old things one can easily imagine dressed up people in the 1920's went to with coats and hats and gloves. As a point of fact, the coat-check girls this time were very un-busy: no coats were bothered to be checked and hardly any man wore a hat he couldn't stuff in his pocket or book bag. But back to the building: the gilded frescoes of muses...the wonderfully, gargantuan tacky chandelier...roomy, plush seating...wall mirrors...wall-to-wall carpet and wood banisters all lent themselves to experiencing a quiet evening at the theatre. I got the impression "What book are you reading?" was just as if not more likely to be asked than "Are you on Facebook?" 




As for the play I liked it -- despite only catching on to three words in the whole two hour performance. Does not high art transcend language barrier? (Low art certainly does.) When my aunt learned I was going to Berlin she implored I see this one if nothing else. So I did. I wore my tuxedo (yes I tend to travel with one), caught the metro to S-/U-Bahn Friedrichstrasse and made it to my seat on the fourth floor - whew!- just in the nick of time. At eight o'clock sharp, or as they say here, 20:00uhr, the house lights dropped and the dialogue began. No C.P.T. here! At the drawing of the swastika there was an audible gasp, like seeing two men hold hands, yet at the end of the performance I found the German audience amazingly...restrained in their applause. Almost stingy with it, really. When the star actors took their bows the applause was no louder than it was for the bit role of the co-worker. Egalitarians.... 

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3D model of Flex Lewis

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Here is a cool computer animation of British bodybuilder James "Flex" Lewis

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Baby shoes hurt man feet (Berlin)

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Monday's rain was just an annoying mist and drizzle. Tuesday and Wednesday was the shit. It came down in fat plops, making staying indoors feel all the more lazy cozy and wunderful. But out we went for coffee and dessert: to, at least step outside for the day and visit a cafe and, also, because I mentioned my need to go to a second-hand shop for shoes and a heavier coat.

I was couchsurfing in Wedding (pronounced: Vedding). The four of us set out - two housemates and two couchsurfer guests - and in no time I was determined to buy another pair of shoes. The ones on my feet were running shoes and very porous. My feet were getting wet just the same as if I were barefoot. We found a HUMANA store - it's like a Goodwill store - and I found a pair of Adidas for 3euros. The size read "7.5in" (I wear a 9-9.5) but was sure it would only be a matter of breaking in the shoes. At any rate, it felt good to have a pair of durable DRY footwear -- and cheap, no less. 


After two days I could take it no more. I had to get my feet free from these tiny, ungiving Adidas! Was en route to a writer's group somewhere - I forget the location now - when I turned around, got my butt back on the train, and beat it to Alexanderplatz where I knew there was a HUMANA store. This time I lucked out with a pair of rugged New Balance cross-trainers -- size 12. They cost 12euros. As for the Adidas? I donated them back to the store. 


What comes around, goes around....

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