If I've said hi, be a gentleman and say hi back for god's sake. I won't bite (yet).
This here is an organism with a lifespan of 70-or-so years as a member of a species that is 200.000 years old on a 4.5 billion year-old planet in a 13 billion year-old universe. The context always helps.
this time 'curvy' was not a euphemism for fat.
the pictures don't do you justice.
Books: Used to be into contemporary literature. Novel is special (Auster, Vonnegut, Nabokov). Poetry is magical (Plath, Anday). Graphic novel binging must be restricted to worldclass university libraries (as an act of subversion. Otomo) and worldclass scholar homes (really what else to do on a terrace overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge all day? Satrapi). Recently more non-fiction. ♥ Jared Diamond. I hope to have grown up enough to do my next binge on Proust.
Movies: Wong, Kim, Lynch, Kubrick, Miyazaki, Chaplin, Kitano, Coen Brothers, Ceylan, Linklater
The two most recent movies that blew my mind are:
Most recent musical hangups: Massive Attack (again. left the concert walking on air), Bill Evans (always), Mozart's Requiem (wish he had more time to discover the darker tones), Radiohead (comes in phases), Queen before the synth years (best thing to wake up with).
Shows: coupling (uk), the office us, 30 rock. Only drama ever followed: house.
Seriously! I edit my profile often, and often drastically. But each time I stare at this section I wonder why I'm even asked to state such a no-brainer. To me this is as obvious an answer as 4 is to 2+2. I judge accordingly.
Biochemistry is a bitch. Neurochemistry is an asshole (and since it's a subset of biochemistry it's really a bitch-asshole). What else? How come have people abandoned good old happiness just for the sake of deconstructing the notion and don't notice anymore when it comes banging at their door? What else to do with my life. How much change can I tolerate? On this, see below.
--begin the story of the Marshall Monitor headphones--
I had never had fancy earphones until today. Once paid 25 euros for a very bad Philips which broke down and disappeared from my life within a year, otherwise all single-digit price tags. All despite having lived with all the gadgetary of a musician for a decade. I guess I am not very fond of isolating myself in music. The outside world is quite interesting. I didn't even have music on me before I finally dealt with ITunes mano a mano, which is less than a year ago. // This morning I woke up in the east of the Netherlands to take a train back to Berlin in a few hours. Untypically of me, I did not snooze. I had to buy earphones for the trip. I take the train very often, so the outside noises are by now redundant and annoying and this would be six hours of that. I went to a chain store after breakfast. I asked the salesman for something a bit better than the standard, said I'm tired of only hearing the middle frequencies. He said what they have is crap but there is a HiFi shop around the corner. I touched his arm as I thanked. I was so grateful, he was equally taken aback. // In five minutes, there I am. I'm all grown up. Three digit price tags don't scare me. I stick some models in my phone while blasting Future2Future like it's how I roll on a daily basis. I fall in love with one pair of headphones. Excellent at its job and sexy as fuck (exactly how i like my man). I take him home (see above). // As I'm writing this in the train with my awe_some Marshalls, I'm a bit scared of myself. Now I have to buy a new phone with much bigger memory. How about an LP player? Pick the guitar back up? Better yet, take piano lessons. I have to tell myself to slow down. I can't turn unrecognizable to myself once again, just because of a pair of sexy headphones.
You are not reading this on your relative today. But be my guest, assume so. If I haven't just bought fancy headphones for the first time, I might be on my way to New Zealand, checking out adult ballet lessons, learning how to paint, surf, boulder, or swim better. The other day I took a detour through Tempelhofer Feld and practiced letting go of the steer. And I can! Later this summer I got inked and already planning for the next. The body has its own curiosity (which is the original story of disconcerting change). The eyes and ears as well. I let them.
-- self-made section: First contact hall of shame --
"Noone wants to date with a woman who uses immoral terms like b*tch and a**hole. [...] Only perverts fyi" (his wording exactly)
"Your dating demands only miss a graph, you obnoxious scientist!"
"Hey pussycat" [tasteless, but ok, I reply with a friendly answer]
"kudos, you have taste" [you, approve, my, taste? Ok, don't judge a book by its first line. Friendly answer again: What do you do?]
"(Proudly) I do ***. Where are you from?" [no more answer to this dimwit from me. I have a job, a better paying one, and come from the ghettos of a city where you would get your underpants stolen, you privileged white male dumbass!!]
"What's the best Queen album? Hint: it's A Night at the Opera." [thanks for including me in the conversation bro]
Almost there, still not scared? Well you may have fantastic qualities that are missing from this list. I'm always up to raising the standards for the fictional perfect guy. Let me know and we might hit it off!
I despise chatting online. No chatting without end, and god no, no penpals.
That means we meet. That's the upshot.
We have less than 80% common despite having answered lots of questions, you don't get half my references, you don't understand my English? Do not bother. (And don't tell me you don't believe in match scores. It's like not believing in evolution my dear. With the thousand answers on my profile, it takes a true idiot to fail to make reliable statistical inference and okc algorithms, unlike some humans, are not idiots.)