Eine Mischung for the Weekend

A day or two after bawling on the Fishwife about my desire to earn some colorful Euros, I reluctantly strapped on a tie, matted down my hair, pressed my thumbs and convinced some nice people that they could do a lot worse than give me money. I should’ve wished for something else, I guess, because they gave me the work, and it’s been keeping me so busy that I haven’t had the appetite or energy to keep this little project of mine from turning into a dusty hellhole.

Yes, yes it’s nice to earn some dough that’s not all green and devalued, and the work isn’t all bad, but I was getting used to writing for myself instead of for Papa Paycheck. If you’ve never done it before, writing about subjects chosen by other people can become fatiguing over time. It does for me, at least, and it reminds me of why I originally became an editor. Of course, puzzling out how to piece together so many voluptuous English words into new, never before written paragraphs is a pip, but when it’s really juicy stuff that’s not, shall we say, accompanied by my byline, I can get a little resentful. “Sorry, bub,” the chief decision maker where I’m working seems to say as he pats his damp forehead with a folded handkerchief. “T’ain’t yours no more.”

On Friday, I wrote a sentence — one sentence, mind you — that I was so tickled with, I almost emailed it to myself and then deleted any trace of it from the workstation I was using. But I didn’t let my greed win out, and the boss was pleased enough to invite me back next week. So, it looks like my little journal here is gonna get the prickly end of the stick for another short while. But, since we’re here with all of these middle-of-the-road sentences, I think I’ll go ahead and blow chunks about three subjects that pique my interest this very instant. Don’t worry, this should go quick.

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Two Berlin related notes, and one about a Nazi.

• First thing’s first.  I saw a nice little show a couple weeks ago at a venue that was new to me. The Stadtbad Steglitz is a beautiful old Art Deco swimming hall that’s been rejigged to handle theater and music performances. On the evening that I attended, about 50 of us sat in comfortable-ish chairs in the shallow end of the (bone dry) pool. While a Russian tinkled an old upright piano, a pretty Israeli diva-in-training and a handsome young Chinese tenor stood on the pool’s deck and adroitly bellowed out opera’s greatest hits for us. The singers were endearing, the acoustics were great, and I only wondered once if I’d leave the old swimming pool with a new case of athelete’s foot. In sum, despite the fact that the audience at this concert took part in less drug smoking and binge drinking than I’m used seeing at concert events, I still had good time. And, I’m here to tell you that the Stadtbad Steglitz is celebrating its 100th birthday in July with some kind of gala.  If it’s not too pretentious, it might actually be fun.

• Sticking to the music theme, I am hoping to attend a show this Wednesday evening at the Monbijoufestspiele. A peach of a band from Sweden called Detektivbyrån (video pasted below) will be playing, and the entrance is only €10. Thing is, my experience is that a lot of the venues for music in Berlin suck massive pig testes. I’ve never been to this outdoor ampitheater, and this show starts at the early hour of 19.30 on a Wednesday night. It’s not a formula that guarantees big fun, but I might be wrong. If anyone knows about the venue, please do tell. I hate spending any amount of money on bad experiences, and if the sound ends up getting swallowed by the audience and surrounding Mitte, my underpants will most certainly end up in a twist.

• And, speaking of bad experiences, how about the Holocaust? Didya catch the story in this morning’s news about the Nazi war criminal who was nabbed in India?  The goddamn guy, a former SS colonel named Johann Bach, was on a well-tempered 50-year run from authorities before he slipped up in Goa. Apparently authorities finally found him because he placed a classified ad in an English language paper in an attempt to sell a rare 18th century piano that he nicked from a German museum in 1942. The whole story sounds a bit fraudulent to me, what with the fact that the guy has suposedly been bouncing around the world all these years dragging this piano along with him. That, and the fact that he’s 88 years old and he was captured in the wild Indian jungles. It all smells a bit funny, and my gut says it’s a hoax. Still, if it is true, what the hell? There must have been a substantial circuit of nefarious bastards keeping this guy hidden, and since his advanced age means that Bach is just a few meters from death’s doorstep, it is my great hope that some of his underground helpers are snatched up and tarred and feathered and made to eat only Toasty meat snacks for the rest of their lives.