Happy New Year everyone!! I am happy to say that I will be spending the evening with friends- new friends, in a new city, in a new country. So, pretty cool. Our plan is to go to my friend's gig, then we're all going to a secret abandoned warehouse party, hidden in east Berlin. We have to get an S bahn to a certain station, where we then stand in a certain location, pay our dues (a measly 3 Euro, which is insanely cheap tonight), then we get picked up and transported to the party. Cool, right? Anyway, I just wanted to wish everyone all the very best- if you had a shitty year, I hope 2013 holds better things for you. If you had a good year, keep riding the wave!
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I also wanted to share a poem by Philip Larkin. He's a right grumpy sod, who writes really stark, bleak poems, often dwelling on missed opportunities, misery and loss of youth. I bought his famous collection 'High Windows' this year, and whilst it IS bleak, its also pretty inspiring. It makes me sad to think of this lonely old man full of regret, so consequently, makes me determined to live life to the fullest, and enjoy the brief flash of youth that we all have. This poem I like...well, I'll not turn this into a poetic breakdown. So yeah, read this, make of it what you will. I know probably most won't like it, but... c'est la vie. I just really like this collection of poems and...well. If you can't nerd out on a blog, where can you? I have a reputation to protect, so this is as public as I'm going with this! ;-) xx Cat Sad Steps Groping back to bed after a piss I part thick curtains, and am startled by The rapid clouds, the moon's cleanliness. Four o'clock: wedge-shadowed gardens lie Under a cavernous, a wind-picked sky. There's something laughable about this, The way the moon dashes through clouds that blow Loosely as cannon-smoke to stand apart (Stone-coloured light sharpening the roofs below) High and preposterous and separate-- Lozenge of love! Medallion of art! O wolves of memory! Immensements! No, One shivers slightly, looking up there. The hardness and the brightness and the plain Far-reaching singleness of that wide stare Is a reminder of the strength and pain Of being young; that it can't come again, But it is for others undiminished somewhere.
'Bonny' is a nice girl- mid/late twenties, middle/high position in her job, doesn't like confrontation, hard working.
'Betty' is relatively new in her job- a little bit older, works under Bonny, can be 'difficult'.
I heard this story yesterday about how Betty has taken Bonny to court, claiming 'harassment'. This is because Bonny asked Betty to come in to help with an activity she had previously said she would help with, and also was unfortunate enough to mention to another colleague to 'watch out' as she felt Betty could be 'dangerous'. This was after feeling that Betty was subtly manipulating certain versions of things in order to create trouble. It should also be known that Betty has only joined this company for a short time, and it has been revealed that she left her last job after suing for harassment. Successfully.
So there's not a lot of actual evidence in this case really. The only problem is that it is fraught with political and social nuances. Firstly, it happening in France, a country struggling with racial issues. Bonny is 'fully French', and from a long line of 'pure French' (these are not my words, I would never say 'pure'!) Betty is the wife of a Muslim religious leader, has just moved to France and is pregnant. Although her history shows she has a accused people of harassment before, because she is from a minority, a woman and pregnant, everything is weighted in her favour.
Now, obviously I have only heard a version of this story, and I don't know the details. Maybe Bonny is a real bitch and Betty has been genuinely unfortunate enough to fall into positions where she is subject to harassment all the time. But what I did think was how reflective of our crazy reluctance to engage reason when faced with certain social factors. There is no doubt that in legal cases like this, you are in a stronger position if you are in a minority, pregnant, a woman, etc... What about if you are still in the wrong though? The version of the story that I heard was favoured towards Bonny (I hasten to add again, I don't know the reality). Lets, for the sake of this argument, believe that Bonny is being wronged here, by someone who recognises her social advantages, and from experience from performing this whole escapade in the past, knows the correct twists and turns in the system. Even if this was the case, the social factors still mean that it is distinctly more difficult to protect Bonny, without appearing racist, sexist, ageist or ummm...pregnanist (joking, although I am sure you can see the advantage that has as well).
This conversation yesterday led on to my genuine frustration with this way of thought. It is prevalent in many aspects of our society. Huge generalisations made on social, economic, age factors? Its crazy. I do recognise that certain pockets of society need protection, but this sort of blind positive discrimination is still discrimination. As a woman, and as a feminist, I realise that there are still many gaps in how men and women are treated. However, to eliminate that, I do not expect to be treated better than my male counter-parts. I expected to be treated the same. I expect to be treated appropriately for my personality, my skill sets and ability. I don't want a job promotion because it will make the company I work for look better. That is as insulting to my feminist principles as being overlooked because I have a uterus would be.
I got into a bit of a rant about this yesterday. We laughed about the crazy blindness to some truths we have been programmed by society to experience. For example- children are a highly vulnerable and protected part of our society. Also, as a woman, there still exists a certain expectation that you should be incredibly maternal and love all kids. Ummm... I like kids just as much as the next person, but I can reognise that they are little adults. I would never make a sweeping statement that 'I love all adults'. Of course not- loads of adults are total assholes. You just try to be pleasant and get along as best you can. Many, many kids are also assholes- whether its from how they are being raised, the morals being instilled by their surroundings, whatever. Nature versus nurture is irrelevant- plenty of kids are mean, selfish, bullies, liars- just like adults. However, have you ever heard someone say- "Yeah, kids are great. Apart from those dickhead children." Of course not, because we aren't supposed to.*
This model of irrational blindness to personality and individuals in favour if social sweeps can be applied to loads of pockets of society- women, disabled, etc. I do not think that the difficulties faced by these segments of society are to be sneezed at. However, were I to be disabled, I would prefer for the blindness of assessment to applied to my disability, not to my personality or character. There is a famous scene in "Curb Your Enthusiasm where Larry David nearly runs over a disabled guy who is in a motorised wheelchair.
This scene goes on where Larry, in exasperation, mentions this to a woman who works in the same office as the disabled guy. He is looking for back up- the guy wasn't looking where he was going, was on a mobile phone... however the woman merely replies "Yeah, but he's in a wheelchair."
I don't know what it is like to be disabled. Any small experiences I have had with limited mobility, (and I have experienced small examples of limited sight) have made me realise how difficult it would be. Personally though, I would like to think that yes, I could rely on kindness for accessibility but I could also rely on rationale- I would prefer if someone like Larry David yelled at me for being in the wrong.
Political correctness has escalated to levels of bullshit in my opinion. There are segments of the community who require extra protection and kindness, of course. However, they also deserve to be treated as individuals, on the merits of their personal pros and cons. I think it is ridiculous to look at a person and see only a wheelchair, only a skin colour, only a gender, only a sexuality. Positive discrimination is still discrimination, and I can't believe the extent to which it infiltrates our society.
[Of course, this whole post is merely my personal opinion, and if I have said anything that offends, please know it was not my intention. I see that I occupy very few of these social shades- a westerner, white, educated, etc. However, I am a woman, and I have got kind of ginger hair, so I know about social struggle. I like to think I am empathetic however, and like I said- I think an expectation of kindness is different from an expectation of willful blindness.]
*Apparently Milan Kundera dealt with this issue of children in detail in many of his books, including The Unbearable Lightness of Being. The following in an excerpt from an interview he did with the New York Times.
NYT-Children occupy a strange place in your books. In ''The Unbearable Lightness of Being,'' children torture a crow, and Tereza suddenly says to Tomas, ''I am grateful to you for not having wanted children.'' On the other hand, one finds in your books a tenderness toward animals. In the last one, a pig becomes a likable character. Isn't this view of animals a bit kitschy?
MK- I don't think so. Kitsch is a desire to please at all costs. To speak well of animals and look skeptically at children can't please the public very much. It might even irritate it slightly. Not that I have anything against children. But the kitsch of childhood annoys me.
Here in France, before the elections, all the political parties had their posters. Everywhere the same slogans about a better future, and everywhere photos of children who smile, run about and play. Alas, our human future is not childhood but old age. The true humanism of society is revealed through its attitude toward old age. But old age, the only future that each of us faces, will never be shown on any propaganda posters.
In the past month that I have been in Berlin, I realised I have not yet, truly, shook my bad thing and done any dancing. Umm...What!? As soon as I realised this (about a week ago), I have been like a dog with a bone, nagging everyone about going out for a boogie somewhere. Of course, I knew places must exist, but so far, my pretty virgin knowledge of the big bad Berlin nightlife hadn't a clue where to find them. Last night, a group of people decided this was going to be addressed. Meeting at a friend's house near Hermannplatz (good, central location and nice pad actually), I came in at the tale end of a big dinner which had been held, and at the start of everyone having a few drinks, listening to some music, chatting, etc. When we finally decided to make a move to a club (after saying goodbye to some people, and waiting for another guy to cycle down to the apartment to meet us), it was about 2am. On the way, we met two older guys from Austria. It was kinda funny, we were all (some more than others) trying to use whatever languages we had in order to confuse them about where we came from. One of the guys with us was half French though, and pretty soon, all of the conversation turned to French. Myself and my Australian friend can't speak French, so we kinda shut up and talked among ourselves.... As it turned out, their whole conversation, in French, with our friend was about whether they should come with us, or go to get food. "Ahh but there are two of us, and three vaginas here. Although I think vagina 1 is angry...." I couldn't believe this when our male friend told us this is what they had been saying about us. I wasn't the angry vagina, but I wondered how they described me?!! We decided on a place called Bohnengold. It is near Kottbusser Tor, and apparently unsigned. When we got in (after a really vigorous check at the door from the bouncers), it looked like, well....a total dive.
However, as I was led confidently on, it became apparent that to get to the 'good' bit, you had to walk through several crappy rooms, before going down a couple of steps into a smoky, sweaty danceroom. We checked our coats and GOT ON IT.
So, I need to explain what 'Geil' means at this point. Its one of my favourite words in German (hence why my little pigeon says it) and dually means 'cool' (slang) and literally, 'horny'.
As we had arrived pretty late, everyone was already dancing, and in a party mood. I was mostly dancing with the 'angry vagina' girl....(who was neither angry, and has other parts to her body as well). It soon became really apparent though, that two girls, dancing, unaccompanied (our male friends were elsewhere, on their own little adventures), well- we were like catnip to them. And trust me, this is no humble brag, because it was for no reasons other than it was horny o'clock and basically, we had once again been reduced to walking vaginas. I have never seen so many pick up techniques being utilised so awfully- 'bumping' into you, giving you drinks (note- if you are crazy adamant about giving a girl a beer that is already open in your warm grasp, the girl will totally think it has Rohypnol in it. Fact), cheers-ing your drink, tapping you to say 'hi' and my personal favourite of the night, stroking your hair, unannounced. GUYS- get a clue, if a stranger leans over to stroke your hair, its nothing, (and I do mean NOTHING) other than creepy as hell.
My friend and I continued dancing, until I said I was going to go. At this point, we acknowledged that we were totally surrounded and felt like bits of prey. Which... yeah. I am not sure there is any point where I think I would find that a fun situation to be in. My friend immediately said she would come with me, as if she stayed alone, she would be mauled alive.
So today's lesson? If you are a girl, and want to score in Berlin? Find Bohnengold, past 2am. That's IT. Just be there, and you'll score. (I mean, so long as you are ok with being reduced to your sexual organs, then its fine, right?!)
Low fi, and really organic, I really really dig the percussion in this song. I have a slightly different version on my mp3 player, which sounds like they are tapping wine glasses... but it doesn't matter. The beauty of this wee tune is how delicate it is, yet, remaining toe tappingly percussive. It also reminds me of about 5,000 times when a party descends into mucking about with music and people grab anything to get involved. Anytime I hear this, I feel inexplicably happy.
ONE LIFE STAND- Hot Chip
I know, I know. Everyone loves this track, its from 2009... Yeah, bit slow on the uptake here. But I just think the percussion is why this song is so awesome, especially, especially, ESPECIALLY the steel drums.
I used to think these lyrics were...almost like a joke? I never used to believe guys in songs when they say really sincere stuff (hello cynicism!), and in many ways 'One Life Stand' should be really cheesy... but its not. Its kind of nice actually? Anyway, a couple of days ago, I rode the train with my friend who told me all this stuff about his idea of a relationship. It was pretty different from mine (I'm fairly into the concept of two awesome people remain two awesome entities who happen to be together, and not one boring couple), but it sounded so romantic, that I thought, "OK. So some boys are insanely romantic."
And it seems like one of these insanely romantic guys wrote this song.
TRUE ROMANCE- She Wants Revenge
I am SO behind the times with this, ok, I get it. This whole sound has been and gone, I KNOW. I downloaded a bunch of songs this year after rewatching 'True Romance' (great movie) and this was one that got caught up in the crossfire. I realise it sound kind of like Marilyn Manson, but that deep, aggressive drum beat just drives the whole tune and I LOVE IT. I really like the pseudo new-Romantic vocal as well, (because well, if you don't like that Depeche Mode style, well, whats wrong with you?)
& IT WAS U - How To Dress Well
This song is my favourite drum beat of the year, easily. It seems really simple, and yeah, I guess it is really simple, but relying so heavily on the acapella and drum beat just makes this song ace. When it kicks in about 1.30, well.... I have torn up dancefloors. Which, given the song, seems unlikely...but trust me. Its happened. [I think this song would also win the Grower of 2012 Award].
TIME TO DANCE- The Shoes
Umm, sorry if you haven't seen this video before. Its pretty disturbing at the start (for about 2 minutes I think) before it kicks in. Great cameo from the big chief Jake though (if anyone can tell me how The Shoes managed to secure him for this video, let alone this role, please, let me know)
Yeah, but when the drums start, the song HAS me. Its the sort of beat that makes you want to go running, never stop moving, keep dancing. Which is perfect for the song.
The video, well, now I quite like it for the weirdness factor, but yeah, sorry if it offends anyone.
Love a good drum, me. If you know of any good beats, let me know!!
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Also, took this photo the other night. Look how GROSS my hand looks?!?!
Ooh man. So it's starting- the Irish are coming to visit me! First up are my two great great friends Stu and Steve. I have a wealth of information and media which I could share with the internet about them, but I won't. Not for their reputations, more for protecting your sensibilities, dear reader. ,-)
Forfey 2009. I call this photo, "Danger Boob" [Steve, Me, Stu]
However, I couldn't be happier. Two of my oldest friends, they are like my cool, badly behaved, vegetarian, musically awesome brothers. We've been there for each other through a lot of things, including losing our religion, coaching each other through relationships and romance (maybe a reason why we are so difficult to pin down*), festivals, changing bands, watching bands, getting drunk, getting hungover, eating vegan food together, and generally going through the best bits of our twenties together. That's why I am so happy to have them come play with me in Berlin, which is very much a cool new part of (my slowly fading away) twenties. So allow me to give a brief introduction to these two whirlwinds of men.
Stu and me, so so so young. Awh.
STUStu is one of my oldest friends that I see on a regular basis. We met when we were good teenagers, pretty absent from teenage angst and full of love for the Smashing Pumpkins. Meeting at the tail end of our religious lives, it was a relief (I think for both of us) to have someone else fall away from faith at the same time. I knew Stu would be my friend forever when shortly after we met, I woke him up at 6am in the morning during a retreat, to ask him to help me bury a dead pigeon I had found. I figured, Stu is a vegetarian and a musician, surely he will see the poetic tragedy of a dead pigeon, on a slab of concrete right beside a forest. He politely declined, but our friendship, incredibly, grew from that moment on. Creatively, he has been a member of millions of bands, including the Fast Emperors, Panama Kings, Los Lobras (holllaaa!) Clone Quartet and more recently, General Fiasco. (Sorry if I have forgotten any!)
Panama Kings
Clone Quartet
German Roads by General Fiasco. (relevant, right?)
STEVE
Steve and I met when I was a fresh faced teenager, not long out of school. I had taken a year out of education to, well, I'm not sure what, but it was during this time that I crossed paths with the man who would become my future ex husband. I am not really too sure where this joke arose from, but basically at every gig I would ever go to, Steve would do a shout out to me from the stage "Here's to my ex-wife, standing over there. With wine, again. Who's looking after the kids, huh, sweetheart?!" This was always pretty funny, except in situations where people genuinely thought I was his ex-wife, and was a drunk mummy**.
Steve quickly became a firm fixture in, like, my LIFE. He is also a bit of a legend around our parts and has played with Duke Special (under the stage name "Serge"), Los Lobras, The Unprotected, Katie and the Carnival, The Queer Giraffes to name but a few.
The UnProtected
Katie and the Carnival- Steve stuffing his face at the head of the table
MY FAVOURITE SONG PERFORMED BY STEVE
Ok, so I love both of these boys, and I know they can't wait to sample the delights of Berlin. I asked both the guys how they would like to be introduced-
Stu- (apparently played the bass on this. RIGHT)
Message from Stu-
I've a family dinner thing, gotta go. Please don't embarrass me online. xx
You know too much!!
Steve- (oh man.)
Message from Steve-
Jeez i dunno. hope i get in and out alive. no no limits... no valley to deep, no mountain too high.
CAN'T WAIT TILL YOU'RE HERE GUYS!
One of our #VeganTuesdays, with friends.
* read: perpetually single, romantic-retards ** I am not married to Steve, nor have I ever been. We have no children together, nor have we ever indulged in any children making activities. Go us guys!! In fact, me, Stu and Steve seem to fly the flag for plutonic friendships, YEAH! ANYWAY, I consider myself lucky to hold the fictional title of 'Steve's ex-wife', because he's a great guy. Except when he lies in rotting milk on buses, forgets his sleeping bags at festivals or pisses on your tent.
So a very distinct disadvantage of a blog is the desire to share everything, paired with the common sense not to. I am definitely lacking the latter, so today I am not going to post about my exciting news (at least not now) but please know, I am bursting to share some brilliant stories with you all.
Instead, I will tell you about my day yesterday. Waking up, I just couldn't bring myself to trawl through the job sites again. Deciding to be generous to myself, I was going to maybe dander through some vintage stores, possibly sort out my increasingly out-of-control hair (though now I am being used by a local hair salon as a hair model, so I can't chop it all off) and yeah, just generally treat myself to a day exploring Berlin.
This did not happen. Instead, I got some very exciting phone calls (..SHUSH Cat, not now) and also some job offers. Which, frankly, given that I had got to the end of my patience with the job sites, was the best thing that could happen to me. I had started to toy with the idea of what I would do if jobs didn't present themselves to me, but happily, I don't think I will be walking dogs for the rich and famous just yet.
Anyway, in a spirit of celebration, I went out for some drinks with friends. Sunday past, I was supposed to meet up with a collective who had been pointed out to me by a mutual friend. "Bring an extra liver!" was their friendly word of warning... I had several days of socialising under my belt by Sunday and just couldn't bring myself to attend. So, having suggested we meet up last night, we all jumped at the chance.
I decided to meet a couple of friends in a bar in Kottbusser Tor beforehand. One of them suggested a bar called Monarch. Totally up my strasse, it had a concealed entrance ("For keeping out the riff raff!!") and was kinda grungy and cool.
A few drinks in, and we shuffled off to join this new gang of people. They met us in an unbelievably packed gay bar around the corner called Möbel Olfe. When we eventually found the gang, we were presented with;
- 2 lovely German girls (honestly, one was called Curly, which immediately won her 5,000 sweet points, and the other one literally gushed at me how fond she was of Northern Irish people. Which, lets be honest, is not the usual reaction!)
- 1 tall English gent (who confessed to, in Spin The Bottle games gone askew, kissing...)
- 1 Northern Irish boy (who laughingly admitted kissing the English boy more than was normal for two straight friends. That's International Relations at work fellas!)
- 2 French men (totally charming, naturellement. And from Paris! Sacre Bleu!)
- 1 Northern Irish girl (Also blinking lovely.)
Such a nice gang of friendly people, I was delighted to befriend them all. As one of the French guys Mike said- there was a fucking good energy in that group!
I am really enjoying the whole 'new girl' status in town, as it really does allow for a carte blanche and brutally honest approach to friendship. I feel almost juvenile when I say to people, "Hey, so I'm new, and looking to connect to as many new, exciting, devilishly handsome/pretty people as possible. Would you like to be my friend?"- but by jove, I think the cute factor works. I feel cute asking it, and I think it makes people feel cute to say "Yeah!/Oui!/Ja!"
Tonight I am going to meet up with my two Irish brothers (I say brothers, just two Irish male friends really, but I'm very fond of them!) to seek advice and high fives for my 'exciting news' situation. I can't wait till I can write about it- I am sorry if this post has sort of been dancing around this secret the whole time... but all will be revealed in good time!!
Anyway, on that note, I bid you adieu, until next time!!
So, my one issue with Germany is Gema. Every time I try to have fun, she weighs in with her judgemental ways. Every time I try to relive some fun memory from my past, she forces me to get back to reality. Every time I try to shake senora to Jump In The Line by Harry Belafonte, she stops my fun. Every time I want a pants dance, she gently reminds me I ought to be dressed. Oh whatever Gema. I am so completely over you. This is Gema. --->
Ruiner of craic, destroyer of moments, party killer. I saved the above picture on my computer as 'MotherFlupper' [edited remix there for the kiddies] because every time I see this god forsaken sign on a youtube video, that is what I sigh, moan or shout (mood dependent, you understand). HOWEVER, no faceless wonder is going to stop my banter. Today oh joy, oh bliss, oh rapture, my super friend told me (again) about the website https://proxtube.com/. Its quite literally a magic place where dreams come true, fairy dust comes to life and blocked youtube videos get unlocked by a smiley red character.
If you are German, or in another blocked country [Irish people, alas, I don't mean our fun 'blocked'] use this little gem of a website because goddammit- they can take our pride, but they can never take our youtube! [Disclaimer: its very late and I am maybe a little buzzed on tiredness and lemon iced tea. Just sayin'. Today's blog was brought to you by the punctuation tool of brackets.... ]
Its a real shame that I don't want to become someone's submissive secretary (Translated- Looking for a submissive female to be a personal assistant in an office. Should be able to read english but does not have to be fluent. Role: - organize schedule - answer phones - book travel plans - keep boss 'relaxed' Pay: - EUR 50,000 / year - bonus - full health coverage) because jobs like this seem to be two a penny. Am I being prudish? ;-) I mean 50,000 Euro a year sounds ok, but as I said to my friend- hand jobs and filing. No thanks.
For such a small country, we Irish sure do get around! I have bumped into a whole bunch of Irish people in my brief time in Germany, and its been really fun. On the one hand, it provides someone to talk in thick slang with ("Ah, good man yerself. And sure, how's yer woman? Deadly. The craic aye, the craic last night was mighty...") but more importantly, someone to compare and contrast experiences with.
Last week, I was out for some drinks with a German boy, a Portuguese boy and an Irish boy. Mating and dating, allegedly, is something we all like to talk about...and this night proved that right. The Irish guy shared with us some of his experiences- the difference between chatting up Irish girls and chatting up international girls.
How to Date An Irish Girl (By An Irish Boy)
1. Take the piss out of her- a wee bit of aggressive banter is the Irish form of affection.
2. Don't pay her compliments- Irish girls aren't used to compliments and so won't accept them, or will just be plain embarrassed.
3. Basically pretend you don't like her that much- you'll present yourself as a bit more of a challenge, and what Irish girl wants the guy who is all over her?!
4. Don't do crappy dates at the cinema or anything- Irish girls like to talk and drink, so get this into the mix.
5. A wee friendly thump on the upper shoulder is far better than a delicate caress of her cheek, any day.
6. Laugh, jesus, LAUGH. If you're not laughing, there's no hope.
Colin Farrell- successful Irish flirt. Gobby, cheeky, doesn't give a shit. Irresistable?!
Ah jeez. I do actually totally agree with this!! The flip side of this was this Irish guy said he found it weird internationally to approach a girl and not be faced with a torrent of abuse and vicious banter. In many ways, the gobby Irish girl has simply meant he is prepared for any woman in the world.
A few days later I was hanging out with an Irish girl, strolling through some snowy Turkish markets. As we ran our hands over the millions of bits of materials and smelt all the hundreds of foods, we started talking boys. This Irish girl was telling me how she has attracted lots of Italians in Germany. Italians- who do everything SO differently from the Irish lads, that she didn't stand a chance. Whispered Italian in her ear? She was a goner!
One great part about this story was the moment she said she tried to engage in some banter and the Italian just did not get it. He kept offering her food, "Ahh, but I can make you some pasta at my house, no?", to which she replied, "Nah mate, I don't do pasta on a first date." GREAT LINE!!! I laughed my head off when she said this, especially when she told me the Italian merely flustered before offering to change the menu to pizza. Ooops.
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