July 24, 2006
Blank. Do not feel like writing. Bereft of ideas. I toyed a bit with the blog and changed the header. It rocks now, huh? Can anyone guess where I took the image from? Anyway, I´m out of words.
But I cannot resist the temptation of Count Orlok being in my blog. On Friday I was at Prater Horrorfilmfestival, open air, free cinema. I could not help but buy the poster, I am a marketing victim; a bit expensive, but back then I just knew I needed to possess it. The films were great throughout the whole festival (Jaws, Dracula, King Kong, Freaks, etc…) On Friday there was Nosferatu, with live music (violin, keyboard, and drums). Dusk, in the last rays of the setting sun and the Shadow of the Riesenrad. Ja, Nosferatu.
It was great. Kudos to Vienna for the organisation and good taste. No other city manages these things with so much savoir faire.
June 14, 2006
As I was on my way to the Post to send out some letters and make a pair of transfers some days ago, I run into an Indian (turbant included). He spoke to me in English, I thought he was lost and about to ask me for an address. Not the case. He was a fortune teller, he even had a visit card that said so. He asked me whether I wanted to know my future. I kindly declined the offer. But before I could vanish he told me I was basically a nice guy that nevertheless thinks too much, is therefore unnecessarily troubled by everything and wants to atone fro having wasted time in past years. He hit the bull´s eye, and I stayed.
He took a tiny piece of paper, and scrawled something on it without me seeing it. He made it a ball and told me to hold it in my fist.
He then took another piece of paper, said 6 7 8 and told me to choose one, swift! I chose 7. He wrote it on the paper. Then he told me to name a flower, swift! I though of many, but, right there and in English, I could only say “Rose”. He wrote it on the paper as well. He finally asked me for the three things I wish the most, swift! Easy answer, money, love, happiness. So he wrote L (Love) H (Happiness), M (Money). As he was writing it down, he was also rambling about me, and all the things he said (nothing too concrete, though, it would magic the same effect by almost anyone) hit the mark. He only said two things carved a bit deeper: That 2003 had been horrible for me (true) and that I will die at 88 (how marvellous to know! The bloody Fakir…). He foresaid me 5 great years, that money will come and go and that something WONDERFUL will happen to me in June.
His paper said 7 Rose L H M. I was still holding the other piece of paper in my fisted hand. He invited me to open it. I did. Exactly the same: 7 Rose L H M.
It was then, when I was shaken, that he opened a folder. Inside I could see a picture of him and further Indians (dots, not feathers), outfitted like Fakirs, in turbants and diapers, all of them but flesh on the bone (Graduation day in Dark Magic University?) . Alongside the picture there was a thick stack of 50 € banknotes. He softly said “I´ve wished you good Karma, now do please put something here”. I hesitated. He went on, kindly “As well as I bring about good luck, I can also damn people, and you´ll never see me coming”. Blend of nerves, fear and an urge to go away once and for all. Confusion after the paper trick, his predictions, his looks and the picture. I scratched my pockets at random, and thank the heavens only two 10 € notes appeared ( I had a 100 € note, would not have given it away, yet, had the guy seen it, he might have begun to rave about damnation, next day I had to take a plane, and I have not yet vaccinated against the Zecke). I just put one 10 € note. Having seen the other, Monsieur Fakir asked for more, whether I had no 50 € notes. I told (rather begged) him that I did not and I needed the other 10€. He seemed satisfied, fared me well and gave me a “good luck” trinket.
It was just 10€, the whole show and the guy´s looks alone were already worth that. But let´s state it flatly: the bloke was a pro, and when we parted I was halfway between afraid and angry at my gullible behaviour. I am not superstitious, yet these kind of supernatural things are not easy to digest, either. The paper, the looks, the menacing promise that you could be given good look as fast as you could be deprived of it. A flawlessly performed hoax. And the stack of 50€ bank notes he had was bloody THICK.
Later, without the scene´s magical smoke screen, I though about it, and it is brilliant in its simplicity:
- 6 7 8: I think 90% of the people would say 7, a number that History, Folklore and Tradition have always given mystic qualities, and that many people regard as a magic number.
- Rose: the first that invariable comes to mind in English. The hoax wouldn´t work by one English native speaker.
L H M: English again. Limitless possibilities: Money, Marriage, Love, Life, Long life, Happiness, Health…
But right on the spot, one is wholly off guard when he sees the two papers. The stench of mistery, plus the promise of good luck or impending disaster… Very weird, very frankly. The little fortune he had in the folder tells me that Monsieur Fakir does not sleep on a bed of nails
May 15, 2006
Zoological sensation in Schönnbrunn Zoo! The panda bears have made love for the first time! These animals happen to be very very lazy when it comes down to sex; an Italan zoo once tried to help them along the way with videos… Yet the Viennese pandas did not need any pandaporn! How efficient! The first Panda born in Austria is now a reality, we can count on it by autumn. “It was a real copulation, doubtless”, stated Dagmar Schratter, Schönnbrunn´s Zoo Vizedirektorin. At the beginning of the year the pandas had already “played with each other”, but it had never come to insemination.
Panda she-bear Yong Yong and her partner Long Hui were a gift from the Popular Republic of China and have been in Schönnbrunn zoo since 2003.
The Viennese call the Pandas “Franzl” and “Sisi”.
I´ve founded a Doom Metal Band, something really hardcore.No further comment.
March 2, 2006
Vienna, Austria (the alpine country of Edelweiss, no desert with kangaroos…). A place where people work reasonably few hours (call it efficiency if you like…), are happy and filthy-rich. Think of Vienna, and you will inevitably conjure up images of grandieur.
Everything is clean and nice and rococo, and hyperpretentious at the same time; the buildings are awe-striking, and the city is beautiful… really? No it is not. It lacks the authenticity that the other heavy weight of the Austrohungarian Empire, Budapest, oozes. Vienna needs to be cleansed to gain anew the magic it sure had once. For this was a city where East and West met for many years, a German speaking country close to the numerous and vibrant Slavs… yet nowadays is the magic gone and the once majestic Innerstadt has been almost totally drowned in a mass of expensive shops and bright lights to push the prosperous Viennese to consumption. And they revel in it, happy to burn money and enjoy life.
But what should one expect? After all, Austrians let themselves be annexed through a cheap plebiscite. By one of theirs by the way, a guy with a moustache… Each time they tried to be part of anything bigger than a very nice and downright hollow chocolate cake, everything backfired.
And a not so perfect chocolate cake at that! One takes a stroll and sees a city full of rich old ladies strutting in their expensive fur coats, drinking very normal coffee for abnormally high prices; sees lots of tourists obsessed with an anorexic Empress brought back to life in our century by a doomed Austrian actress (poor Miss Schneider, she should have stayed in Vienna…) One takes a stroll and finds perfection in Vienna´s marvellous smell, a blend of Leberkäse and cheap kebab intermingled with horseshite.
I ask myself, what is so special about Vienna then? Well, these are just my first impressions. I´ve been here for just five months, and haven´t had time to delve any deeper into cake city. Logistics kept me really busy during the first days… or rather weeks. Those things take time in Vienna. Two weeks for the flat, four to make it habitable. After having to wait for 40 days (like Noah…) to have my banking affairs running fine, I began to wonder whether I was still in Europe or everything was a delusion and I had actually landed in Nigeria. To be honest, my relations with banks have never been what you would call comfortable, but my bank here in Vienna flaunts an incompetence that brinks on the absurd. Finding a good German course was also a nightmare. Either all the foreigners here speak perfect German (impossible) or there are no high level courses later than 15.00. The latter is the sad yet true reality. I arrived in November and could not find a course until January.
In a nutshell, I have not had enough time to explore the city. My working hours are a nightmare, give that in this country everything closes early, and when I finish with the average ordinary everyday shite, I have to run to get to German on time. To cap it all, winter bites hard, and the prospect of staying out is not one bit appealing.
