All you need is... three feet dummdadummdadah

Since today's glorious morning I am a three-legged and one-crutch-handed almost-human being again. Yey to all the little fairies and monsters that kept me crutching! Since I'm taking care of myself (because the doctor's practice where I used to go is a twit-house and the surgeon, who fiddled around with foot while I was unconscious, is too hot-shot for me to be a regular patient... so much for public health insurance...) I decided it's time for me to reclaim my naughtiness and take the plunge into tripediality (Latin meaning: two (almost) functioning human feet supported by a crutched foot). I'm experimenting here but as long as foot is not complaining I'll just keep doing it.

I watched the Socceroos play against Brazil yesterday. We cheered and clapped and booed and aaaahed in a beergarden that was predominantly crowded by lethargic and geeky Brazil fans. We did well though, even when the Aussies started losing. Well, our support didn't help much I guess but at least the Brazilians had to put up a good fight before they could walk off the field and wallow in their laborious victory. Go Oz!!!

Afterwards two beautiful ladies and me moved on to some major summer worshipping at the EastBeach (Oststrand), a river beach bar that is enclosed by remnants of the wall on one side and the river Spree on the other. We sat and laughed next to the East Side gallery, which still serves as the city's history-ladden open-air canvas. I'm not an expert but some spots deserve better!

It was eerie to think about the fact that where we were sitting and enjoying each other's company, people used to get shot at because they were sick and tired of paternalism and punishment for each and every non-conform action and opinion...

The inner-city sunset in the sand was gorgeous though and worth the painful experience of watching the fight and defeat against Brazil. Then again, it's not such a shameful failure after all, since it was Brazil and not just SOME team that the Socceroos lost against. The Brazilians definitely didn't deserve the 2nd goal as far as I'm concerned. If Ronaldo&Co hadn't been so damn lucky, the Socceroos would have kicked some butt there.

And now back to the studio...

and so it is...

just like you said it should be,
we both forget the breeze most of the time...

I read you, liebste Marieke! Everytime I hear the song I see Natalie Portman walk down a busy street in slow motion. I didn't like the film too much but she was bloody amazing... anyways, we are passed on to the Indigo Girls:

closer I am to fine...

and now beware of our tophat graduation party!





Geezuz merry'n jouzeff! This bloody picture uploading doesn't bloody work... ( it does now!!!) well, I guess you're just going to have to imagine Erik, Suse and me in black suits with black tophats and bowties sitting next to each other and being awfully excited to be given our official G'bye from a longstanding relationship with our beloved English department.



The party afterwards was very golden and filled with a lot of beer and sausage and flying tophats. There was this crutch-operating tophat-flying person who sat next to the dancefloor and got totally pissed watching her mates dance wildly to the music of the Golden Times, a band made up of our most appreciated non-fellow students...

By the way, i look quite funny when I'm drunk and trying to hail a taxi (sorry, no more evidence here:)... On my way up the stairs I fell up the bloody things three times. Ivo almost fell down the stairs pissing herself laughing at my drunken attempts to crawl upstairs to my bed, which was desperately crying out for me. I got bruised overcoming all the obstacles that kept us apart but eventually I made it. I didn't have time to be grumpy with Ivo when we eventually lay next to each other in bed. I pretty much fell asleep straight away (well, that's at least the official version...)

Righty, and so it is that I'm sitting here and I'm very proud of my very much admired friend of the lovely name Marieke! Baby, you rock! kuss i

Some kind of bird

The Making Of of our little film Gleisdreieck is now officially finished! Yey! We're officially registered with the Cannes Short Film Corner. Another Yey! My sister has officially moved in with me (even though it's only her stuff that's moved in. I haven't seen her here yet. Apparently she rather spends time at her boyfriend's place...) and I've officially got my very own logo now! Yey to Johannes! It's some kind of bird...

Well, foot and me are going alright, meaning we're not going so well as in we're one-footed but we're good anyway... Not that I'm getting used to being a crutcho but you need to do what you need to do, I guess. The countdown has started. only fifteen weeks to go! AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHGGGGGGG!!!

skinny legs

As a lot of you guys know I'm NOT a morning person, never have been, never will be. And now I've got an even better excuse to not get up than just being a grumpy bugger: the prospect of hobbling and crutching around, of manoeuvering on one foot in the shower, in the kitchen, in the lounge room... You know what happens when everything happens on only one foot? I was shocked this morning when I had a look at my legs dangling from the bed: one is at least fifty percent bigger than the other!!! I'm a one-sided skinny-legs vs. massive-legs crutch operator! Looks awfully strange.
Well, I still get up in the morning (midday) and do the routine (which takes more than an hour right now). I still shower and make coffee. I even do some work! I sent off an article for a possible book pulication yesterday. Was very proud of myself. Now I've only got two deadlines left until the end of the month. One is the Making Of of our little film, the other urges me to get more transcriptions done! Which reminds me...

Have to run (hahahahahaaaaaah)

hospital report

Back from the nirvana of Spandau. Now I've got my very own hospital story to tell! You might not be able to fathom how important this is BUT after 4 days of two old ladies on either side of my bed (me in the middle of it all) telling me their love, life, family AND hospital histories, having a story of your own is like having attained a membership to a very special club! Better than a TV soap. 24 hour entertainment and all for free! See, one of them was almost deaf, so whenever she got going the other one would not be able to make her opinions and - no doubt - highly significant stories heard and that would upset her a little bit. Little Inga caught in the middle would try to do her best as a talk master or mediator but it always ended (well, it never ended but that's another story...) with the other one exploding her unheard stories into my ears when the deaf lady eventually got distracted.

Anyway, I escaped the never-ending story last Friday and since then I'm experiencing the ups and downs of a life as a physically impaired Berliner. I don't really do much but what I do takes a LLLLLLOOOOOOOOONNNNG time. The simplest things suddenly become missions impossible. but don't worry: I will survive! It's only another 4 and a half months after all... no big deal! (I hope you noticed the underlying sarcasm in this statement... whinge!)

Ok, and now enjoy the photo of sick foot and healthy foot! (Please notice the pattern of my new couch! Nice, ey!). The other one shows me in my new surroundings: my sick corner including a physiotherapeutical device with which I can do physio for beginners without leaving the house!!!

Who wants to be a millionaire?

Moi! Of course, who wouldn't... it's still going to take a while but HEY! I got your attention, didn't I?

This is my last entry as a hospital virgin. There's nothing much to tell but whinge on and on about soon being a crutch operator. Sounds good as a job description, doesn't it?

Anyway, my mobile is allowed to be my guard and contact to the outside world while I'm lying sick in a hospital bed, so if you want to talk to me DO!!! Number: +49 176 20955370.

For Berliners I'll just put up the address as well, since you might happen to be somewhere as remote as Spandau: Havelklinik, Gatower Str. 191 in Spandau, very close to the Havel...

All the best, me luvly ladies and gentlemen! kisskisskiss i

Go figure...

So, I have this perfectly athletic body (minimal degree of exaggeration here) and then this: after only twenty-seven something years it starts disintegrating like Germany’s economy...

Look at my right foot, for example: It’s a handsome, hard-working, talented symbiosis of bone and flesh, an indispensable member of the Inga society – but it seems to be unhappy, or at least parts of it, so that an insubordinate piece of my anklebone (little fucker! I called it Inga society BUT it’s not a bloody democracy! It’s a dictatorship, for heaven’s sake!!!) decided that it wants to go travelling. Maybe become a part of my elbow or hipbone. They might need some help there... What about my foot, though??? Has this little shit piece of anklebone forgotten that it serves a great purpose? The purpose being that without it Inga needs to invest time and energy into letting outsiders teach my bones subordination (how embarrassing!). But the worst is that it keeps me from going around in the world and passing on my skills and wisdom.

I’ve started noticing other insubordinate parts of my body. I’ll need to act quickly and make them learn the hard way, I think. Even if it means that I might have to use some pretty rough measures like whips and chains… Well, if I don’t write soon again this little illegal body part revolution will have succeeded… BUT I’ll come back and get them good! Promise!

Epilogue: I've got a new couch. VERY comfortable, VERY practical (it's one of those bed couches - or couch beds?), and extremely UGLY!!! If I get too comfortable on it I just have to look down and OOOPS! I'll be up on my feet (well, my one foot...) in no time! And if I WANT to get too comfortable then I'll just need to wear shades or something. Hmmmm.