madhatter’s coffee.

• DE:BUG: Grenzgänge der Debilität
  Lunatics.
  (tags: weblog g8 protest)
• classless Kulla: Spontandemo in Kreuzberg
  And some background-info for the protests in Berlin/X-berg.
  (tags: protest g8 repression)

What shall I say? It’s exactly like Rose told us.

I’m sitting in the train. S45. Final destination: Spandau. It’s nearly midnight. And I’m on my way home.

The train is crammed with people. Someone opened a window. I can feel it. The cooling draught. Irrelevant. The train could be completely empty and nothing were different.

Except for the guy next to me. Maybe he’s a computer scientist. Graduated. His bag looks like the perfect assecoire for that kind of people. It’s one of those mediocre black and monstrous models that could contain everything ranging from laptop to bomb.

It’s the book he’s reading. It’s small hardcover. German type. At least that’s what I can see at a distance of two meters. The bible. What brings people like him to read the bible? If he read the Q’ran he’d already be a number. One of the more important ones. Every number is different. He dressed black, by the way. A typically German anorak made to resist Arctic cold and not even able to warm a three-ton polar bear. His trousers are short enough to release the view of grey socks. I wonder if they originally had another color.

But he does not look as if he knew the term self-consciousness. Or if he had some. Maybe that’s why he reads that book. It’s a kind of support for him. He closes the pages with a snap. The cover says: theater guide.

• PANOPTI.COM
  I still don’t like flash. But you can’t control its contet. Yet.
  (tags: flash german privacy surveillance)

• Spreeblick: Die Erfinder von Helmut Kohl
  An astonishingly well researched and informative article on Spreeblick. Wow. Who could have suspected that anyone else still knows of Engelmann.
  (tags: weblog spreeblick kohl politics)
• Mymuesli.com
  Yeah, Yeah, Yeah! Pop for postmodern, new media designers!
  (tags: german cerials web2.0 shop)

What still leaves me back suprised: the high class prostitutes at Oranienburger Street. Right between middle aged and classed couples, hip new economy yuppies, indie folks and the modest upper class. The only feature that lifts them above an ordinary sexed up chic are those unbelievably long stilettos. What makes me mad: the ignorance of the people around. Official new speech: tolerance.

• OH! – Das Videomagazin
  Really, really kool stuff. Expecially the short films. (via popnutten)
  (tags: video art flash magazine)
• The Right Number Part One – Scott McCloud
  Leaves my grinning right now. Take a little time. And don’t miss the tiny link to part two.
  (tags: flash comics art)

Really, I love my new home. Actually my old home. At least I didn’t notice any change in the last 48 hours. Only my opinion did. At Hundred eighty degrees.

Circa two hours ago, I went for a sidekick to the supermarket on my way home. I don’t know, maybe I just wanted to do me some good on my birthday. On the culinary side of life. In front of the super four boys stood leaning on their pseudo-tuned bikes. One of them was looking like a Harley. Kool stuff. Me myself was quite kool, too. Sunglasses, black trousers, orange shirt, arrogant smile. But onto the view words I must have changed my whole appearance.

What heard was: ,Hey, there’s a lefty!’ Whup. When I came out of the supermarket all shields went up. All techniques I learned in years of school: building a invisible wall around oneself, becoming deaf in a second. And a face of stone. I packed my stuff into the bike’s basket and mounted the bike. ‘Piss of, asshole!’

Nice try. I drove away. I drove a little bit to fast. A shopping bag in the right hand, steering the bike with the left one. I threw the bag over my shoulder. And felt the plastic ripping between my fingers. Shit.

10 meters further the pack of orange juice touched the ground. Roaring laughter behind me. Fuck. When I’d turned around to get the burst tetrapack, the four already had gathered around me. ‘Hey you lost something.’ Wonderful, they were going to prove me their intelligence. ‘I know.’ I took my bike and drove around them. After 10 additional meters the leader caught up. The Harley-driver. Nice. ‘Ye said sumthin?’ – ‘No, asshole.’ – ‘Whom do ye call an asshole? Stop!’ I gave no reply. ‘Hey, are ye dumb? Stop! Stop! STOP!’ One stop later I found myself in the ditch. My shoppings scattered around me.

I pulled myself together. It took me three fast steps to stand in front of him. Gradually I did a slow burn. He took his fists up. I dropped mine. ‘Hey I don’t want to beat you up. Why don’t just leave me alone?’ – ‘ Ye got a speech defect, ye know?’ – ‘And you really think you’re the first one telling me this?’ He laughed. I turned and tried to sort barber, cookies and butter. ‘Hey, you lost sumthin” Well. Alternation seemed to be one of his weaker sides.

In the meantime the rest had gathered around me again. The smallest, a 14-year old boy, helped me erecting the remains of my bike. ‘Yer helping a leftie?’ He dropped it. I thanked him. ‘We dunt like folks like ya here-around.’ – ‘We dunt like no hippies!’ -’How do you know that I don’t vote for the Christians?’ – ‘Christians! He gets worse! Ye gotta vote for the Nationalists or the Neos.’ I remained silent. ‘Piss of!’ I tried it once again: ‘Hey kiddies. Why don’t you just leave me alone? I didn’t bother you, did I?’ – ‘Oh, he’s so gay our little hippie.’ – ‘Stop that smothin’ mother-fuckin’ talk!’ – ‘Hey, what’s about them sun-glasses. I’d like t’have sum, too.’ – ‘Gimme them glasses!’ I sighed. ‘Hey, I leaving that fucked-up Woop Woop faster than you blink.’ ‘Move yer ass! I can still see ye!’ Roaring Laughter again. As if I’d like to waste my time in that rotten ruins of a village with some adolescent Nazis.

Take the bike. Start driving down the road. Steady steering. No quivering. The sunglasses fell out of my pockets. Laughter. I turned and took them up. The left one was broken.

As one might have expected, I went on Mayday in Kreuzberg. But as you might have expected too, I was puzzled enough to miss the really interesting part. That is, throwing stones and bottles on people who deserved it. Well, nevertheless I made it to the MyFest. Which was a very lively example for the fact, that Kreuzberg is no more what politicians call the edge of society. Just because any other term would be an admittance to the word that social democracy was a failure.

However, the party was quite a good one, with approximately about eight stages playing everything from dub-music, indie-rock and ethno-styled stuff. I strolled down the streets, drank my obligatory beer and looked for the demo – which was as I already mentioned, over. What I found instead fairly compensated a demo: a Band played ‘Ton, Steine, Scherben’-Songs. That’s ultimo on Mayday. Well. If we had been at the Mariannenplatz.

Against any of my own expectations or the warning I received from friends the party was really peaceful. People were feastening and they did it in as surprisingly unpolitical way. Maybe this was founded on the late time since Kulla talked about a demo for organizers of demos. Well. Okey. it was already seven PM when I pushed through the revolutionary masses.

On my way home I observed the police relocating their troops. I was tempted to grab my camera and do a nice sprint for unauthorized photos but my nice foot still demanded much attention I skipped further healthy exercises.

A last thing mentioned: today I saw nice pictures in the so called “Berliner Fenster”: fearless policemen in front a burning car. When only a trash can was burning.