|Rhys and Owen, my nephews|
In response to my followers’ demands – I think there are three, -- I gathered some photos of myself while in London the other day – back where I started three weeks ago. There are also a few paparazzi shots from Sardinia included – I can’t really explain how I got my hands on those; I did it for you. Making up for deprivations of the past.
|My brother, Gile|
|Henley Iron Man Triathalon|
|Inside Fernsehturm radio/tv tower, Berlin|
I mentioned a radio/television tower in Berlin where my friend Sibylle and I ate lunch in the revolving restaurant. The tower is the fourth tallest building in Europe, and the tallest in Berlin. It was built in East Germany in the 1960s and when the sun hits it, the reflection appears in the form of a cross -- ‘the pope’s revenge,’ they called it. Funny how things like that happen.
|Lunch in the rotating restaurant in the radio/tv tower, Berlin|
Left behind: Wallpaper Magazine guides to Oslo and Berlin (seeking a world beyond uber-designed cocktail lounges with $20 beers), a couple of New Yorkers (mostly un-read – was busy reading Dorian Gray and Manhood, which is fascinating and I’ll explain if you’re interested), various chocolate bars collected and distributed along the way, maple syrup (requested in Oslo), baby candles from my new favorite store in New York, Red Flower; one copy of the limited edition printing of “Disaster Is Your Mistress” by the European-but-infamously-domesticated The Snow. Perhaps most notably: I left a completely in-tact manual transmission Fiat at the Hertz Rental at the Olbia airport after a sun-blinding early morning drive through the mountains from Santa Teresa.
As my Customs declaration will confirm, I collected almost nothing in the way of material goods: one large and rather hideously celestial hippie beach blanket purchased on Spiaggia del Poetto (the Poets’ Beach) in Cagliari, Sardinia – kept only for sentiment; a floppy black felt hat from Liberty of London, and three wooden bangle bracelets from a friendly Gambian man (also from the Poets’ Beach). The blanket co-mingled with a few clothing items in the wash this morning, depositing its red coloring – and thus, these items are reinvented. Sometimes that’s how it goes with co-mingling, and with sentiment.
Back only a few hours and I’ve already disposed of all the moldy food in the refrigerator, run into two friends, rode a loop then jump roped 300 times in Prospect Park ala Rocky Balboa, got my legs waxed, been twice to the grocery store and returned a defunct modem to Time Warner Cable in Sunset Park. Oh, I also saw Greenwood Cemetary for the first time ever – from my bike. I noticed The New Yorker is using new fonts and layout styles in its listings section – I need some time to digest this change, but I’m going to embrace it eventually.
Some friends invited me to build kites on the waterfront in Williamsburg this weekend. I’ve been asked to provide the string. We’ll cast our paper structures to the wind -- keeping them tethered to the ground -- and we'll see how they dance.