From 41787c87bff284a0d6641a1734395b338fddb4f4 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: randogoth Date: Thu, 21 May 2026 19:35:04 +0300 Subject: [PATCH 01/10] grease pit --- content/20260521_bubbacitos.md | 36 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 1 file changed, 36 insertions(+) create mode 100644 content/20260521_bubbacitos.md diff --git a/content/20260521_bubbacitos.md b/content/20260521_bubbacitos.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..04e99b5 --- /dev/null +++ b/content/20260521_bubbacitos.md @@ -0,0 +1,36 @@ +title: Grease Pit +date: 2026-05-21 18:00 +author: T. F. +tags: racing, food, rain, texas, job +slug: grease-pit +era: 1997 +location: 33.0372261066194, -97.28392559009747 +read_more: Start your engines → + +My brother-for-a-year, █████, had started a spring break job as a dishwasher at the legendary [Babe’s Chicken](https://babeschicken.com/) in ███████ to top up his pocket money. One day he asked me if I was interested in a weekend job. His boss, who also owned a successful country cooking restaurant in ██████, was assembling a crew to launch a Tex-Mex food stand at the brand-new [Texas Motor Speedway](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Texas_Motor_Speedway), which was about to open that April. I was thrilled by the opportunity and accepted immediately. + + + +After battling traffic chaos due to heavy thunderstorms and a delayed influx of *NASCAR* fans in caravans and pickup trucks arriving for the weekend event we reached the venue sometime around noon. An underground tunnel led us into the vast infield of the 1.5-mile quad-oval monstrosity, whose sheer scale I had not anticipated. The newly completed hundred-million-dollar speedway was apparently the third largest of its kind in the world at the time. The infield itself felt like a small city: an eleven-story tower with condos, countless garages, VIP boxes, a hospital, a helipad, and parking space for more than a thousand RVs. + +Our food truck was a bus-sized container right in the middle of it, fitted with a sales counter and full kitchen facilities. We put on the provided white shirts and dad hats emblazoned with the pink-and-yellow *Bubbacito's* logo, were shown the equipment, and received a crash course in the tacos, quesadillas, burritos, and nacho plates we would be preparing and selling over the coming days. + +Business began slowly. One of my first tasks was to roam the infield with my colleague █████████ to hawk for customers among the technicians, promoters, and drivers who still outnumbered the actual race fans. In the meantime the other two team-mates ran the kitchen and sales. Due to the unexpectedly severe weather, the qualifying round had been canceled, so we expected plenty of race team personnel with time to kill and, hopefully, empty stomachs. In reality, drumming up business went far worse than expected, and apart from a handful of customers, things were not going well. I started to get bored. + +Then an idea began to take shape in my mind. We needed to change strategies. I approached ██████, who was struggling with the cash register anyway, and asked her if she wanted to swap positions. I briefly knew her from high school, where she was somewhat infamous for embodying a walking caricature of mid-90s bombshell femininity: peroxide-blonde hair, puffy lips, and a rack that left little room for ambiguity. And to round it off, her intellect seemed determined not to undermine the branding, to put it kindly. █████████ was more than happy to trade my company for hers, and, as I had hoped, the newly reconfigured customer acquisition team proved significantly more successful at landing sales among the *NASCAR* bros. + +Throughout the day, the weather only got worse. Many of the parking lots surrounding the speedway became so flooded that the Texas Department of Transportation had to turn parts of the highway into makeshift parking. The unsurfaced dirt campgrounds in the surrounding area had turned into swamps, and their temporary inhabitants wisely stayed put instead of wandering the infield and spending money as every vendor had hoped. As a result, our already lowered sales expectations went completely down the drain. + +Right before my unsatisfying shift finally ended, I pitched one last idea to the replacement team, who had just arrived and been briefed on how underwhelming the day had been so far: if the race fans would not come to us, why not bring the food to them? Why not turn our takeout business into a delivery service for a change? + +Teammate ██████ remembered that we had an electric golf cart parked nearby for restocking runs that could easily be repurposed. Armed with an amenity map, a notebook, and a pencil, two girls from the new team hopped into the cart and zoomed off through the tunnel to take food orders from the stranded RV dwellers in the flooded parking grounds outside, which we had already dubbed *Waterworld*. + +The next day must have been quite uneventful and boring because I don't remember anything about it except that the food delivery idea had been spot on. Apparently, the late shift the evening before had sold so much food on delivery runs that barely any leftovers remained. On this day the weather had fortunately cleared, and our Tex-Mex junk food had become an unexpected morale booster for the *Waterworld* population outside. Word of mouth proved to be far more effective than what our increasingly desperate sales tactics had failed to do, and more and more customers started finding their way to our food truck. + +The actual "[Interstate Batteries 500](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yEBZA3nx7Bs)" race and official inauguration took place the following day. Texas weather had decided to show its best side, and more than 150,000 *NASCAR* fanatics had found their way to the grandstands, with several thousand more filling the infield. The place was absolutely packed. The opening spectacle delivered every Texas cliché one could possibly hope for: horseback cowboys, stunt parachutists, a military jet flyover, and the suitably braggy helicopter arrival of landowner and Texas business tycoon *Ross Perot Jr.* and Governor *George W. Bush*. The atmosphere was electric, and business was booming without any need for active marketing. + +I was especially thrilled to spot actual celebrities wandering the infield with their entourages: bad-boy basketball star *Dennis Rodman* shaking hands with some of the drivers, and, much to my excitement, *Sandra Bullock* in the flesh, looking absolutely gorgeous, and probably there to promote her newly released flick *Speed 2: Cruise Control*. + +The race itself turned out to be a hot mess, with the very first turn of the opening lap featuring a devastating 13-car pileup. Later, another driver spun out near the finish line and triggered a second crash that took eight other cars with him. Several racers later [openly criticized](https://frontstretch.com/2017/04/06/nascar-101-the-first-race-at-texas-motor-speedway/) the brand-new track as so difficult to drive that it might require a complete redesign. + +As someone who had never cared in the slightest about sports, let alone car racing, and had fully expected nothing but greasy hands, boredom and a testosterone-soaked cringefest, I ended up having an absolute blast. I left with extra dollars in my pocket, a solid reputation for my one-man German efficiency initiative, and the quiet satisfaction of having accomplished all that as a mere foreign exchange student who didn't even possess a work permit in the first place. \ No newline at end of file From cbf21bd655423e7d08b61e1b52f5a11f35702dfb Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: randogoth Date: Thu, 21 May 2026 19:55:11 +0300 Subject: [PATCH 02/10] links --- content/20260521_bubbacitos.md | 4 ++-- 1 file changed, 2 insertions(+), 2 deletions(-) diff --git a/content/20260521_bubbacitos.md b/content/20260521_bubbacitos.md index 04e99b5..598d4cc 100644 --- a/content/20260521_bubbacitos.md +++ b/content/20260521_bubbacitos.md @@ -27,10 +27,10 @@ Teammate ██████ remembered that we had an The next day must have been quite uneventful and boring because I don't remember anything about it except that the food delivery idea had been spot on. Apparently, the late shift the evening before had sold so much food on delivery runs that barely any leftovers remained. On this day the weather had fortunately cleared, and our Tex-Mex junk food had become an unexpected morale booster for the *Waterworld* population outside. Word of mouth proved to be far more effective than what our increasingly desperate sales tactics had failed to do, and more and more customers started finding their way to our food truck. -The actual "[Interstate Batteries 500](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yEBZA3nx7Bs)" race and official inauguration took place the following day. Texas weather had decided to show its best side, and more than 150,000 *NASCAR* fanatics had found their way to the grandstands, with several thousand more filling the infield. The place was absolutely packed. The opening spectacle delivered every Texas cliché one could possibly hope for: horseback cowboys, stunt parachutists, a military jet flyover, and the suitably braggy helicopter arrival of landowner and Texas business tycoon *Ross Perot Jr.* and Governor *George W. Bush*. The atmosphere was electric, and business was booming without any need for active marketing. +The actual "[Interstate Batteries 500](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yEBZA3nx7Bs)" race and official inauguration took place the following day. Texas weather had decided to show its best side, and more than 150,000 *NASCAR* fanatics had found their way to the grandstands, with several thousand more filling the infield. The place was [absolutely packed](https://www.texasmonthly.com/arts-entertainment/speed/). The opening spectacle delivered every Texas cliché one could possibly hope for: horseback cowboys, stunt parachutists, a military jet flyover, and the suitably braggy helicopter arrival of landowner and Texas business tycoon *Ross Perot Jr.* and Governor *George W. Bush*. The atmosphere was electric, and business was booming without any need for active marketing. I was especially thrilled to spot actual celebrities wandering the infield with their entourages: bad-boy basketball star *Dennis Rodman* shaking hands with some of the drivers, and, much to my excitement, *Sandra Bullock* in the flesh, looking absolutely gorgeous, and probably there to promote her newly released flick *Speed 2: Cruise Control*. -The race itself turned out to be a hot mess, with the very first turn of the opening lap featuring a devastating 13-car pileup. Later, another driver spun out near the finish line and triggered a second crash that took eight other cars with him. Several racers later [openly criticized](https://frontstretch.com/2017/04/06/nascar-101-the-first-race-at-texas-motor-speedway/) the brand-new track as so difficult to drive that it might require a complete redesign. +The race itself turned out to be a [hot mess](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yEBZA3nx7Bs), with the very first turn of the opening lap featuring a devastating 13-car pileup. Later, another driver spun out near the finish line and triggered a second crash that took eight other cars with him. Several racers later [openly criticized](https://frontstretch.com/2017/04/06/nascar-101-the-first-race-at-texas-motor-speedway/) the brand-new track as so difficult to drive that it might require a complete redesign. As someone who had never cared in the slightest about sports, let alone car racing, and had fully expected nothing but greasy hands, boredom and a testosterone-soaked cringefest, I ended up having an absolute blast. I left with extra dollars in my pocket, a solid reputation for my one-man German efficiency initiative, and the quiet satisfaction of having accomplished all that as a mere foreign exchange student who didn't even possess a work permit in the first place. \ No newline at end of file From 97dc9b8600297d66fd77748f3f39be845259556e Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: randogoth Date: Fri, 22 May 2026 12:50:41 +0300 Subject: [PATCH 03/10] lustgarten --- content/20260520_stadt.md | 2 +- content/20260521_berlin_dome.md | 16 ++++++++++++++++ 2 files changed, 17 insertions(+), 1 deletion(-) create mode 100644 content/20260521_berlin_dome.md diff --git a/content/20260520_stadt.md b/content/20260520_stadt.md index 1327224..8854f28 100644 --- a/content/20260520_stadt.md +++ b/content/20260520_stadt.md @@ -3,7 +3,7 @@ date: 2026-05-20 18:00 author: T. F. tags: culture, shopping, discovery, music, books slug: downtown -era: 1992-1999 +era: 1992-99 location: 49.40940095971948, 8.693200961471124 read_more: Let's go → diff --git a/content/20260521_berlin_dome.md b/content/20260521_berlin_dome.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..92b3aa5 --- /dev/null +++ b/content/20260521_berlin_dome.md @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ +title: Lustgarten +date: 2026-05-22 12:50 +author: T. F. +tags: city, berlin, music, sky, nature +slug: lustgarten +era: 2002/09 +location: 52.52009344589064, 13.399786604083824 +read_more: Drift away → + +In the two decades I have lived in Berlin, one of the few places that has held an unusually magical vibe and meaning for me is the immediate area around the *Berliner Dom*, that monumental cathedral on the *Museumsinsel* in the heart of the city. Its voluptuous neo-baroque appearance contrasted sharply with the socialist architecture of nearby *Alexanderplatz* with its iconic TV-tower punctuating the skyline, especially during the years when the brown, glass-clad, monster of the *Palace of the Republic* still cast its shadow over the area. The church overlooks the geometric *Lustgarten* park stretching toward the column-lined, Roman temple like, *Altes Museum*. The atmosphere has always seemed strangely out of place to me. Like fragments of imagined cities thrown together into one almost dreamlike landscape. + + + +A particularly unforgettable moment tied to this place was one July evening in 2002. The weather was unusually bad for mid-July, with occasional rain showers and gusty wind. My girlfriend, a handful of old friends, and I sat on the grassy area north of the cathedral with a hundred or so others, drinking beer, smoking cigarettes, and listening to the concert of French electronica/dream-pop duo *Air*, from afar, the music drifting across the park from the *Museumsinsel Festival* just a few hundred meters away. Their music had played a crucial role in all of our late coming-of-age. I recall letting myself get caught in a gripping swell of *Air*'s [ethereal soundscape](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xpahYJ7UpP4), the music building tension in complete synchronicity with the increasingly violent bursts of wind tearing through the chestnut trees, swaying them in a dance to the beats, carrying hundreds of leaves into the sky and sending them spiraling around the oxidized copper tips of the cathedral’s towers. The harmony between the elements felt so perfectly choreographed that people in the little park began clapping and raising their voices in spontaneous joy. + +Several years later, on a late summer evening, crossing the *Lustgarten* with my iPod on, emotionally shaken and lost in anxious thought after the end of a five-year relationship, insecure and afraid of what lay ahead, I found myself suddenly transported back to that moment. The gritty big-band horn hook of [The Prodigy’s "Stand Up"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8axq-EVyhTw) faded into my consciousness when something in the sky caught my eye. Above the cathedral that was glowing in the orange light, an enormous flock of thousands of birds was murmurating. Just as the track's breakbeat and fuzzy bassline kicked in, building toward the first drop, the fluid mass of birds shape-shifted into a tongue-like wave spiraling upward. The convergence of image, sound, and my own fragile emotional state hit me with such force that tears sprang to my eyes and I had to sit down. It was a moment of simultaneous grief and breathtaking joy, instantly echoing that evening with *Air* years earlier, and I lay down on a stone bench and kept watching the birds, the track on loop, for I don’t know how long, crying, desperately trying to hold on to the moment for as long as possible. \ No newline at end of file From 2d63e3298a7433e41d7f2db0a8d71af8552e1ffa Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: randogoth Date: Fri, 22 May 2026 12:57:37 +0300 Subject: [PATCH 04/10] fixes --- content/20260521_berlin_dome.md | 2 +- 1 file changed, 1 insertion(+), 1 deletion(-) diff --git a/content/20260521_berlin_dome.md b/content/20260521_berlin_dome.md index 92b3aa5..76d2e12 100644 --- a/content/20260521_berlin_dome.md +++ b/content/20260521_berlin_dome.md @@ -13,4 +13,4 @@ In the two decades I have lived in Berlin, one of the few places that has held a A particularly unforgettable moment tied to this place was one July evening in 2002. The weather was unusually bad for mid-July, with occasional rain showers and gusty wind. My girlfriend, a handful of old friends, and I sat on the grassy area north of the cathedral with a hundred or so others, drinking beer, smoking cigarettes, and listening to the concert of French electronica/dream-pop duo *Air*, from afar, the music drifting across the park from the *Museumsinsel Festival* just a few hundred meters away. Their music had played a crucial role in all of our late coming-of-age. I recall letting myself get caught in a gripping swell of *Air*'s [ethereal soundscape](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xpahYJ7UpP4), the music building tension in complete synchronicity with the increasingly violent bursts of wind tearing through the chestnut trees, swaying them in a dance to the beats, carrying hundreds of leaves into the sky and sending them spiraling around the oxidized copper tips of the cathedral’s towers. The harmony between the elements felt so perfectly choreographed that people in the little park began clapping and raising their voices in spontaneous joy. -Several years later, on a late summer evening, crossing the *Lustgarten* with my iPod on, emotionally shaken and lost in anxious thought after the end of a five-year relationship, insecure and afraid of what lay ahead, I found myself suddenly transported back to that moment. The gritty big-band horn hook of [The Prodigy’s "Stand Up"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8axq-EVyhTw) faded into my consciousness when something in the sky caught my eye. Above the cathedral that was glowing in the orange light, an enormous flock of thousands of birds was murmurating. Just as the track's breakbeat and fuzzy bassline kicked in, building toward the first drop, the fluid mass of birds shape-shifted into a tongue-like wave spiraling upward. The convergence of image, sound, and my own fragile emotional state hit me with such force that tears sprang to my eyes and I had to sit down. It was a moment of simultaneous grief and breathtaking joy, instantly echoing that evening with *Air* years earlier, and I lay down on a stone bench and kept watching the birds, the track on loop, for I don’t know how long, crying, desperately trying to hold on to the moment for as long as possible. \ No newline at end of file +Several years later, on a late summer evening, crossing the *Lustgarten* with my iPod on, emotionally shaken and lost in anxious thought after the end of a five-year relationship, insecure and afraid of what lay ahead, I found myself suddenly transported back to that moment. The gritty big-band horn hook of [The Prodigy’s "Stand Up"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8axq-EVyhTw) faded into my consciousness when something in the peach colored sky caught my eye. Above the cathedral that was glowing in the evening light, an enormous flock of thousands of birds was murmurating. Just as the track's breakbeat and fuzzy bassline kicked in, building toward the first drop, the fluid mass of birds shape-shifted into a tongue-like wave painting a black-speckled upward spiral into the orange sky. The convergence of image, sound, and my own fragile emotional state hit me with such force that tears sprang to my eyes and I had to sit down. It was a moment of simultaneous grief and breathtaking joy, instantly echoing that evening with *Air* years earlier, and I lay down on a stone bench and kept watching the birds, the track on loop, for I don’t know how long, crying, desperately trying to hold on to the moment for as long as possible. \ No newline at end of file From 55312839a4f64d181c51bd37be268b7c18e1b7c8 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: randogoth Date: Fri, 22 May 2026 13:05:20 +0300 Subject: [PATCH 05/10] fixes --- content/20260521_berlin_dome.md | 4 ++-- 1 file changed, 2 insertions(+), 2 deletions(-) diff --git a/content/20260521_berlin_dome.md b/content/20260521_berlin_dome.md index 76d2e12..447f089 100644 --- a/content/20260521_berlin_dome.md +++ b/content/20260521_berlin_dome.md @@ -11,6 +11,6 @@ In the two decades I have lived in Berlin, one of the few places that has held a -A particularly unforgettable moment tied to this place was one July evening in 2002. The weather was unusually bad for mid-July, with occasional rain showers and gusty wind. My girlfriend, a handful of old friends, and I sat on the grassy area north of the cathedral with a hundred or so others, drinking beer, smoking cigarettes, and listening to the concert of French electronica/dream-pop duo *Air*, from afar, the music drifting across the park from the *Museumsinsel Festival* just a few hundred meters away. Their music had played a crucial role in all of our late coming-of-age. I recall letting myself get caught in a gripping swell of *Air*'s [ethereal soundscape](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xpahYJ7UpP4), the music building tension in complete synchronicity with the increasingly violent bursts of wind tearing through the chestnut trees, swaying them in a dance to the beats, carrying hundreds of leaves into the sky and sending them spiraling around the oxidized copper tips of the cathedral’s towers. The harmony between the elements felt so perfectly choreographed that people in the little park began clapping and raising their voices in spontaneous joy. +A particularly unforgettable moment tied to this place was one July afternoon in 2002. The weather was unusually bad for mid-July, with occasional rain showers and gusty wind. My girlfriend, a handful of old friends, and I sat on the grassy area north of the cathedral with a hundred or so others, drinking beer, smoking cigarettes, and listening to the concert of French electronica/dream-pop duo *Air*, from afar, the music drifting across the park from the *Museumsinsel Festival* just a few hundred meters away. Their music had played a crucial role in all of our late coming-of-age. I recall letting myself get caught in a gripping swell of *Air*'s [ethereal soundscape](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xpahYJ7UpP4), the music building tension in complete synchronicity with the increasingly violent bursts of wind tearing through the chestnut trees, swaying them in a dance to the beats, carrying hundreds of leaves into the sky and sending them spiraling around the oxidized copper tips of the cathedral’s towers. The harmony between the elements felt so perfectly choreographed that people in the little park began clapping and raising their voices in spontaneous joy. -Several years later, on a late summer evening, crossing the *Lustgarten* with my iPod on, emotionally shaken and lost in anxious thought after the end of a five-year relationship, insecure and afraid of what lay ahead, I found myself suddenly transported back to that moment. The gritty big-band horn hook of [The Prodigy’s "Stand Up"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8axq-EVyhTw) faded into my consciousness when something in the peach colored sky caught my eye. Above the cathedral that was glowing in the evening light, an enormous flock of thousands of birds was murmurating. Just as the track's breakbeat and fuzzy bassline kicked in, building toward the first drop, the fluid mass of birds shape-shifted into a tongue-like wave painting a black-speckled upward spiral into the orange sky. The convergence of image, sound, and my own fragile emotional state hit me with such force that tears sprang to my eyes and I had to sit down. It was a moment of simultaneous grief and breathtaking joy, instantly echoing that evening with *Air* years earlier, and I lay down on a stone bench and kept watching the birds, the track on loop, for I don’t know how long, crying, desperately trying to hold on to the moment for as long as possible. \ No newline at end of file +Several years later, on a late summer evening, crossing the *Lustgarten* with my iPod on, emotionally shaken and lost in anxious thought after the end of a five-year relationship, insecure and afraid of what lay ahead, I found myself suddenly transported back to that moment. The gritty big-band horn hook of [The Prodigy’s "Stand Up"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8axq-EVyhTw) faded into my consciousness when something in the sky caught my eye. Above the cathedral that was glowing in the evening light, an enormous flock of thousands of birds was murmurating. Just as the track's breakbeat and fuzzy bassline kicked in, building toward the first drop, the fluid mass of birds shape-shifted into a tongue-like wave painting a black-speckled upward spiral into the orange sky. The convergence of image, sound, and my own emotional state hit me with such force that tears sprang to my eyes and I had to sit down. It was a moment of simultaneous grief and breathtaking joy, instantly resonating with that afternoon with *Air* years earlier, and I lay down on a stone bench and kept watching the birds, the track on loop, for I don’t know how long, crying, desperately trying to hold on to the moment for as long as possible. \ No newline at end of file From dd95c5bc3fcc3174ff34db5a823cb8c775035927 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: randogoth Date: Fri, 22 May 2026 13:13:11 +0300 Subject: [PATCH 06/10] apostrophes --- content/20260520_stadt.md | 4 ++-- content/20260521_berlin_dome.md | 4 ++-- content/20260521_bubbacitos.md | 2 +- 3 files changed, 5 insertions(+), 5 deletions(-) diff --git a/content/20260520_stadt.md b/content/20260520_stadt.md index 8854f28..d96e231 100644 --- a/content/20260520_stadt.md +++ b/content/20260520_stadt.md @@ -13,7 +13,7 @@ A weekly activity during my teenage years in ████ I usually started at *Cocktail*, a small but well-stocked comic book store where I would spend at least an hour browsing graphic novels, peeking into the rather explicitly pornographic pages of *Heavy Metal*, getting lost in the works of *Moebius*, or checking the latest arrivals in the manga section, especially anything involving mechas or cyberpunk themes. I became a devoted fan of the *Appleseed* series and bought each German translation as it was released. -One snack option was then to head to *McDonald’s*, find a corner, stuff myself with a *McRib* or *Big Mac*, and lose myself in *Kino News*, the free periodical from the counter featuring reviews of upcoming films. That generally provided enough energy to handle the next obvious destination: *Galeria Horten*, an enormous seven-floor department store in a horrendous post-war modernist style, instantly recognizable for its glass facade and dizzying tile patterns wrapped around its cubiform mass. +One snack option was then to head to *McDonald's*, find a corner, stuff myself with a *McRib* or *Big Mac*, and lose myself in *Kino News*, the free periodical from the counter featuring reviews of upcoming films. That generally provided enough energy to handle the next obvious destination: *Galeria Horten*, an enormous seven-floor department store in a horrendous post-war modernist style, instantly recognizable for its glass facade and dizzying tile patterns wrapped around its cubiform mass. Caring nothing for the excessively intrusive nightmare of surplus goods and squirming hordes of consumers, I usually entered through a side-entrance and headed straight for the book section in the rear left corner of the ground floor to check the latest science fiction paperback releases. Then I'd sneak into the tucked-away elevator just around the corner, avoiding the horror of having to navigate the deliberately deceptive escalator maze, and ride up to the music CD section on the fourth floor. Back when I was still in my pre-metal alternative rock phase, I discovered a huge amount of music here by choosing random releases based purely on the album art, and asking the guy at the counter if I could give them a listen. The fastest escape route from here was up to the next floor, a huge cafeteria with panoramic windows overlooking the 1960s vision of progress below: tramlines, bus platforms, and multilane roads tangled together in a pedestrian nightmare. A separate glass elevator connected the cafeteria directly to ground zero, providing a swift escape. @@ -23,6 +23,6 @@ My social batteries recharged but now hungry, I would usually head back through In later years, when my tastes in music and reading had evolved toward more sophisticated niche genres, I tended to avoid the crowded places altogether and spend more time in some of the more off-the-beaten-path shops. Bookstores aimed at a more academic or university student crowd attracted me like magnets, and I would take detours to hidden backyard record stores that had lesser-known artists in stock for me to discover, with staff who were generally far more knowledgeable and patient than those in the mainstream places. -Another option was always the public library, a place I had loved ever since I first stepped into it as a child. I remember spending hours and hours poring over comics and scientific picture books, and later discovering authors I would read obsessively, such as *Stanisław Lem* or *H.P. Lovecraft*. They even had a small occult book section in which I spent far too much time. And CDs to borrow (and illegally copy to cassette tapes). I vividly recall countless afternoons in that library, carrying around notes of things I needed to research to satisfy my curiosity and fill in gaps that our *Encarta ’95* CD-ROM encyclopedia at home could only insufficiently cover. +Another option was always the public library, a place I had loved ever since I first stepped into it as a child. I remember spending hours and hours poring over comics and scientific picture books, and later discovering authors I would read obsessively, such as *Stanisław Lem* or *H.P. Lovecraft*. They even had a small occult book section in which I spent far too much time. And CDs to borrow (and illegally copy to cassette tapes). I vividly recall countless afternoons in that library, carrying around notes of things I needed to research to satisfy my curiosity and fill in gaps that our *Encarta '95* CD-ROM encyclopedia at home could only insufficiently cover. In retrospect, "downtown" was the [chronotope](/pages/glossary.html) of my teenage becoming. Those weekly trips were how I discovered music, books, art, ideas, and subcultures that shaped my identity. When I'm in ██████████ I still occasionally walk the same route, though almost none of the shops still exist. And yet these ghosts of places continue to carry my memories: specific albums, books, games, moments of discovery, even moods I was in when they happened. Encountering culture then felt tangible and biographical, tied to places, moments, chance, rather than the timeless, placeless abundance of the digital today. God, I sound old. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/content/20260521_berlin_dome.md b/content/20260521_berlin_dome.md index 447f089..78b106a 100644 --- a/content/20260521_berlin_dome.md +++ b/content/20260521_berlin_dome.md @@ -11,6 +11,6 @@ In the two decades I have lived in Berlin, one of the few places that has held a -A particularly unforgettable moment tied to this place was one July afternoon in 2002. The weather was unusually bad for mid-July, with occasional rain showers and gusty wind. My girlfriend, a handful of old friends, and I sat on the grassy area north of the cathedral with a hundred or so others, drinking beer, smoking cigarettes, and listening to the concert of French electronica/dream-pop duo *Air*, from afar, the music drifting across the park from the *Museumsinsel Festival* just a few hundred meters away. Their music had played a crucial role in all of our late coming-of-age. I recall letting myself get caught in a gripping swell of *Air*'s [ethereal soundscape](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xpahYJ7UpP4), the music building tension in complete synchronicity with the increasingly violent bursts of wind tearing through the chestnut trees, swaying them in a dance to the beats, carrying hundreds of leaves into the sky and sending them spiraling around the oxidized copper tips of the cathedral’s towers. The harmony between the elements felt so perfectly choreographed that people in the little park began clapping and raising their voices in spontaneous joy. +A particularly unforgettable moment tied to this place was one July afternoon in 2002. The weather was unusually bad for mid-July, with occasional rain showers and gusty wind. My girlfriend, a handful of old friends, and I sat on the grassy area north of the cathedral with a hundred or so others, drinking beer, smoking cigarettes, and listening to the concert of French electronica/dream-pop duo *Air*, from afar, the music drifting across the park from the *Museumsinsel Festival* just a few hundred meters away. Their music had played a crucial role in all of our late coming-of-age. I recall letting myself get caught in a gripping swell of *Air*'s [ethereal soundscape](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xpahYJ7UpP4), the music building tension in complete synchronicity with the increasingly violent bursts of wind tearing through the chestnut trees, swaying them in a dance to the beats, carrying hundreds of leaves into the sky and sending them spiraling around the oxidized copper tips of the cathedral's towers. The harmony between the elements felt so perfectly choreographed that people in the little park began clapping and raising their voices in spontaneous joy. -Several years later, on a late summer evening, crossing the *Lustgarten* with my iPod on, emotionally shaken and lost in anxious thought after the end of a five-year relationship, insecure and afraid of what lay ahead, I found myself suddenly transported back to that moment. The gritty big-band horn hook of [The Prodigy’s "Stand Up"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8axq-EVyhTw) faded into my consciousness when something in the sky caught my eye. Above the cathedral that was glowing in the evening light, an enormous flock of thousands of birds was murmurating. Just as the track's breakbeat and fuzzy bassline kicked in, building toward the first drop, the fluid mass of birds shape-shifted into a tongue-like wave painting a black-speckled upward spiral into the orange sky. The convergence of image, sound, and my own emotional state hit me with such force that tears sprang to my eyes and I had to sit down. It was a moment of simultaneous grief and breathtaking joy, instantly resonating with that afternoon with *Air* years earlier, and I lay down on a stone bench and kept watching the birds, the track on loop, for I don’t know how long, crying, desperately trying to hold on to the moment for as long as possible. \ No newline at end of file +Several years later, on a late summer evening, crossing the *Lustgarten* with my iPod on, emotionally shaken and lost in anxious thought after the end of a five-year relationship, insecure and afraid of what lay ahead, I found myself suddenly transported back to that moment. The gritty big-band horn hook of [The Prodigy's "Stand Up"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8axq-EVyhTw) faded into my consciousness when something in the sky caught my eye. Above the cathedral that was glowing in the evening light, an enormous flock of thousands of birds was murmurating. Just as the track's breakbeat and fuzzy bassline kicked in, building toward the first drop, the fluid mass of birds shape-shifted into a tongue-like wave painting a black-speckled upward spiral into the orange sky. The convergence of image, sound, and my own emotional state hit me with such force that tears sprang to my eyes and I had to sit down. It was a moment of simultaneous grief and breathtaking joy, instantly resonating with that afternoon with *Air* years earlier, and I lay down on a stone bench and kept watching the birds, the track on loop, for I don't know how long, crying, desperately trying to hold on to the moment for as long as possible. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/content/20260521_bubbacitos.md b/content/20260521_bubbacitos.md index 598d4cc..8b6447b 100644 --- a/content/20260521_bubbacitos.md +++ b/content/20260521_bubbacitos.md @@ -7,7 +7,7 @@ era: 1997 location: 33.0372261066194, -97.28392559009747 read_more: Start your engines → -My brother-for-a-year, █████, had started a spring break job as a dishwasher at the legendary [Babe’s Chicken](https://babeschicken.com/) in ███████ to top up his pocket money. One day he asked me if I was interested in a weekend job. His boss, who also owned a successful country cooking restaurant in ██████, was assembling a crew to launch a Tex-Mex food stand at the brand-new [Texas Motor Speedway](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Texas_Motor_Speedway), which was about to open that April. I was thrilled by the opportunity and accepted immediately. +My brother-for-a-year, █████, had started a spring break job as a dishwasher at the legendary [Babe's Chicken](https://babeschicken.com/) in ███████ to top up his pocket money. One day he asked me if I was interested in a weekend job. His boss, who also owned a successful country cooking restaurant in ██████, was assembling a crew to launch a Tex-Mex food stand at the brand-new [Texas Motor Speedway](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Texas_Motor_Speedway), which was about to open that April. I was thrilled by the opportunity and accepted immediately. From 4cf6763cf8dfa724029aae110a06ef1e511b953c Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: randogoth Date: Fri, 22 May 2026 16:12:15 +0300 Subject: [PATCH 07/10] wookie, places --- content/20260516_dune.md | 2 +- content/20260516_flotsam.md | 2 +- content/20260516_fm_surfing.md | 2 +- content/20260517_farewell.md | 6 +++--- content/20260517_knon.md | 2 +- content/20260518_fax.md | 2 +- content/20260519_greenpub.md | 2 +- content/20260520_stadt.md | 6 +++--- content/20260522_wookie.md | 18 ++++++++++++++++++ 9 files changed, 30 insertions(+), 12 deletions(-) create mode 100644 content/20260522_wookie.md diff --git a/content/20260516_dune.md b/content/20260516_dune.md index 8638615..22ecbf6 100644 --- a/content/20260516_dune.md +++ b/content/20260516_dune.md @@ -1,7 +1,7 @@ title: Overcome date: 2026-05-16 21:00 author: T. F. -tags: beach, walkman, music, melancholia +tags: beach, walkman, music, melancholia, fuerteventura slug: overcome era: 1997/98 location: 28.094147518771056, -14.278849105269098 diff --git a/content/20260516_flotsam.md b/content/20260516_flotsam.md index 4a0bc9c..7c0e6a7 100644 --- a/content/20260516_flotsam.md +++ b/content/20260516_flotsam.md @@ -1,7 +1,7 @@ title: Flotsam date: 2026-05-16 22:46 author: T. F. -tags: beach, treasure +tags: beach, treasure, fuerteventura slug: flotsam era: 1990/91 location: 28.213833449836425, -14.224199803299483 diff --git a/content/20260516_fm_surfing.md b/content/20260516_fm_surfing.md index bfe2d00..0ddbfca 100644 --- a/content/20260516_fm_surfing.md +++ b/content/20260516_fm_surfing.md @@ -1,7 +1,7 @@ title: Freq Surfing date: 2026-05-16 16:00 author: T. F. -tags: radio, mystery, sci-fi, music +tags: radio, mystery, sci-fi, music, heidelberg slug: freq-surfing era: 1989-96 location: 49.3827205081448, 8.69198937287534 diff --git a/content/20260517_farewell.md b/content/20260517_farewell.md index faa8069..43b164d 100644 --- a/content/20260517_farewell.md +++ b/content/20260517_farewell.md @@ -1,13 +1,13 @@ title: Go West date: 2026-05-17 14:00 author: T. F. -tags: journey, goodbye +tags: journey, goodbye, heidelberg slug: go-west era: 1996 location: 49.40901367679297, 8.671027857791819 read_more: Step in → -It was time to board the bus. I was scared and excited at the same time. I gave my mother, father, and █████ each a long hug, then stepped onto the express shuttle that would take me from ██████████ to Frankfurt Airport. I don't really remember why we decided that taking the bus was a better idea than all of us driving to the airport for a longer goodbye, but at the time it seemed fine. I could hardly believe what lay ahead of me: a ten-month stay as an exchange student in a suburb of ██████, Texas, USA. +It was time to board the bus. I was scared and excited at the same time. I gave my mother, father, and █████ each a long hug, then stepped onto the express shuttle that would take me from Heidelberg to Frankfurt Airport. I don't really remember why we decided that taking the bus was a better idea than all of us driving to the airport for a longer goodbye, but at the time it seemed fine. I could hardly believe what lay ahead of me: a ten-month stay as an exchange student in a suburb of ██████, Texas, USA. @@ -17,4 +17,4 @@ As if the anxiety of not seeing my family for almost a year were not enough, I w I took a seat at the very back of the coach and looked out through the rear window. My family stood on the sidewalk, waving, and I waved back as the bus pulled away. I kept watching them until they disappeared from sight. Then I turned around, settled into my seat, and gazed at the urban landscape sliding past as we made our way toward the Autobahn. -That was the moment I took off the glasses I had worn for my lazy eye since kindergarten, for what would turn out to be the last time. I never needed them again. It was only about a week later that I realized my chronic cough, too, had mysteriously subsided. It felt as though, somewhere between ██████████ and Frankfurt, an old version of me had been left behind. It was time for a new me. A new era. \ No newline at end of file +That was the moment I took off the glasses I had worn for my lazy eye since kindergarten, for what would turn out to be the last time. I never needed them again. It was only about a week later that I realized my chronic cough, too, had mysteriously subsided. It felt as though, somewhere between Heidelberg and Frankfurt, an old version of me had been left behind. It was time for a new me. A new era. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/content/20260517_knon.md b/content/20260517_knon.md index 90f03a4..fbd5c2e 100644 --- a/content/20260517_knon.md +++ b/content/20260517_knon.md @@ -1,7 +1,7 @@ title: Multiband Dub date: 2026-05-17 19:30 author: T. F. -tags: radio, dub, music +tags: radio, dub, music, texas slug: multiband-dub era: 1996 location: 33.00145024897442, -97.21488087311886 diff --git a/content/20260518_fax.md b/content/20260518_fax.md index 49bb545..2081e0e 100644 --- a/content/20260518_fax.md +++ b/content/20260518_fax.md @@ -1,7 +1,7 @@ title: ᚠᚨᚲᛊᛁᛗᛁᛚᛖ date: 2026-05-18 12:00 author: T. F. -tags: fax, runes, cousin +tags: fax, runes, cousin, heidelberg slug: facsimile era: 1994/95 location: 49.3827205081448, 8.69198937287534 diff --git a/content/20260519_greenpub.md b/content/20260519_greenpub.md index ba4d2f6..c9989fd 100644 --- a/content/20260519_greenpub.md +++ b/content/20260519_greenpub.md @@ -1,7 +1,7 @@ title: Green Pub date: 2026-05-19 20:30 author: T. F. -tags: holidays, music, dance +tags: holidays, music, dance, fuerteventura slug: green-pub era: 1990/91 location: 28.050230326912754, -14.331272208852555 diff --git a/content/20260520_stadt.md b/content/20260520_stadt.md index d96e231..745e3d0 100644 --- a/content/20260520_stadt.md +++ b/content/20260520_stadt.md @@ -1,13 +1,13 @@ title: Downtown date: 2026-05-20 18:00 author: T. F. -tags: culture, shopping, discovery, music, books +tags: culture, shopping, discovery, music, books, heidelberg slug: downtown era: 1992-99 location: 49.40940095971948, 8.693200961471124 read_more: Let's go → -A weekly activity during my teenage years in ██████████ was going "into the city," which meant taking either my bike or the tram to downtown and following an almost ritually fixed path that took a few hours to complete, incorporating stops that satisfied all my special interests. +A weekly activity during my teenage years in Heidelberg was going "into the city," which meant taking either my bike or the tram to downtown and following an almost ritually fixed path that took a few hours to complete, incorporating stops that satisfied all my special interests. @@ -25,4 +25,4 @@ In later years, when my tastes in music and reading had evolved toward more soph Another option was always the public library, a place I had loved ever since I first stepped into it as a child. I remember spending hours and hours poring over comics and scientific picture books, and later discovering authors I would read obsessively, such as *Stanisław Lem* or *H.P. Lovecraft*. They even had a small occult book section in which I spent far too much time. And CDs to borrow (and illegally copy to cassette tapes). I vividly recall countless afternoons in that library, carrying around notes of things I needed to research to satisfy my curiosity and fill in gaps that our *Encarta '95* CD-ROM encyclopedia at home could only insufficiently cover. -In retrospect, "downtown" was the [chronotope](/pages/glossary.html) of my teenage becoming. Those weekly trips were how I discovered music, books, art, ideas, and subcultures that shaped my identity. When I'm in ██████████ I still occasionally walk the same route, though almost none of the shops still exist. And yet these ghosts of places continue to carry my memories: specific albums, books, games, moments of discovery, even moods I was in when they happened. Encountering culture then felt tangible and biographical, tied to places, moments, chance, rather than the timeless, placeless abundance of the digital today. God, I sound old. \ No newline at end of file +In retrospect, "downtown" was the [chronotope](/pages/glossary.html) of my teenage becoming. Those weekly trips were how I discovered music, books, art, ideas, and subcultures that shaped my identity. When I'm in Heidelberg I still occasionally walk the same route, though almost none of the shops still exist. And yet these ghosts of places continue to carry my memories: specific albums, books, games, moments of discovery, even moods I was in when they happened. Encountering culture then felt tangible and biographical, tied to places, moments, chance, rather than the timeless, placeless abundance of the digital today. God, I sound old. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/content/20260522_wookie.md b/content/20260522_wookie.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bb2bdf8 --- /dev/null +++ b/content/20260522_wookie.md @@ -0,0 +1,18 @@ +title: Wookie +date: 2026-05-22 16:00 +author: T. F. +tags: friends, books, games, school, heidelberg +slug: wookie +era: 1994/95 +location: 49.38929497163642, 8.688350417165836 +read_more: Point and click → + +I have known ████████ since elementary school. He was the tallest in my class, and something always seemed a bit off about him. I liked him enough to invite him to a birthday party once. At least until he catapulted chocolate pudding at the kitchen wall with his spoon, to the amusement of all the other kids, and nearly got himself kicked out of the house and barred from ever coming back by my mom. + + + +Later, all throughout high school, we were both in the same class. We were never close, but I liked him. At least privately. He was always a bit hyperactive and nervous, and his thoughts seemed to outrun his speech, which made him stumble over words, drag one into the next, and fill the gaps with drawn-out *uuuhms* and strange moaning sounds, which, together with the long straight hair that fell well below his shoulders and sometimes hid his face, earned him the nickname “Wookie.” He was generally made fun of by almost everyone, usually following the lead of the class bullies. I probably took part in that to some degree, which I am not proud of, though I often felt sorry for him. + +This did not keep us from maintaining a kind of distant friendship, mainly fueled by our shared interest in *Battletech*, other science fiction book series, and computer games. We sometimes met, half secretly, after school near the bicycle stands behind the gym to exchange books, have brief conversations about them, or share strategies for beating *LucasArts* point-and-click adventures like *Maniac Mansion* or *Zak McKracken*. + +I sometimes regret not having had the courage to spend more time with him despite teenage peer pressure, but the need to belong and play the social game was as much of a minefield at that age as it is today. That reminds me that I still have the dark brown sheet of paper with the exit visa codes (early ’90s copy protection!) from *Zak McKracken* somewhere that he lent me, the one you needed to travel between places. That might be as good a hook as any to get back in touch with him. \ No newline at end of file From 5a71a1861b1c4c7b6ced1171b185079b6434f250 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: randogoth Date: Fri, 22 May 2026 16:39:22 +0300 Subject: [PATCH 08/10] wookie mondsee --- content/20260519_mondsee.md | 4 ++-- 1 file changed, 2 insertions(+), 2 deletions(-) diff --git a/content/20260519_mondsee.md b/content/20260519_mondsee.md index 9537941..3ac5a6b 100644 --- a/content/20260519_mondsee.md +++ b/content/20260519_mondsee.md @@ -7,7 +7,7 @@ era: 1997 location: 47.8496016025711, 13.350667930492033 read_more: Set sail → -The sailing regatta began and there I was in a dinghy together with █████ and ████████ of all people. The bottom feeders of our class, thrown together to race the cool kids. How the hell had I ended up here? To be fair, half the class had simply assigned me my old role [from before I left](/go-west.html) for a year abroad. The other half were thrown off by how much I'd changed and treated me like a newcomer. Who was I? The old loser or the new alien? Either way I accepted my fate and got ready to lose. But first, let's go back to the beginning of the week... +The sailing regatta began and there I was in a dinghy together with █████ and "the [Wookie](/wookie.html)" of all people. The bottom feeders of our class, thrown together to race the cool kids. How the hell had I ended up here? To be fair, half the class had simply assigned me my old role [from before I left](/go-west.html) for a year abroad. The other half were thrown off by how much I'd changed and treated me like a newcomer. Who was I? The old loser or the new alien? Either way I accepted my fate and got ready to lose. But first, let's go back to the beginning of the week... @@ -19,7 +19,7 @@ When we got back to the hostel later that night, the others had already returned We spent most of our days at the lake, where half the class took a windsurfing course and the other half learned to sail. I was part of the latter group. We learned different knots, nautical terminology, and practiced sailing maneuvers like *gybing* and *tacking*, turning with or through the wind and trying not to capsize in the process. I genuinely enjoyed learning all of it, though I seemed to be in the minority. Most people were busy recovering from hangovers and already looking forward to the next round of drinking after sunset. -The regatta on the final day was less about sailing talent and more about who was still functional after a week of partying. That was exactly how I ended up in a boat with █████ and ████████, since the three of us were among the very few who had actually paid attention and cared about what we were doing out on the water. +The regatta on the final day was less about sailing talent and more about who was still functional after a week of partying. That was exactly how I ended up in a boat with █████ and the "the [Wookie](/wookie.html)", since the three of us were among the very few who had actually paid attention and cared about what we were doing out on the water. Unfortunately, nerdy interest in sailing turned out not to be enough to win races. A minute into the regatta, it became increasingly obvious that my two shipmates had not exactly spent the previous evenings practicing knots. Their reactions were slow, their timing completely off, and every other maneuver dissolved into confused giggling. From 4bd3c78d97b9995c3ac5d9b66a04e53470762aa2 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: randogoth Date: Fri, 22 May 2026 16:42:01 +0300 Subject: [PATCH 09/10] exit visa codes --- content/20260522_wookie.md | 2 +- 1 file changed, 1 insertion(+), 1 deletion(-) diff --git a/content/20260522_wookie.md b/content/20260522_wookie.md index bb2bdf8..46f7c9b 100644 --- a/content/20260522_wookie.md +++ b/content/20260522_wookie.md @@ -15,4 +15,4 @@ Later, all throughout high school, we were both in the same class. We were never This did not keep us from maintaining a kind of distant friendship, mainly fueled by our shared interest in *Battletech*, other science fiction book series, and computer games. We sometimes met, half secretly, after school near the bicycle stands behind the gym to exchange books, have brief conversations about them, or share strategies for beating *LucasArts* point-and-click adventures like *Maniac Mansion* or *Zak McKracken*. -I sometimes regret not having had the courage to spend more time with him despite teenage peer pressure, but the need to belong and play the social game was as much of a minefield at that age as it is today. That reminds me that I still have the dark brown sheet of paper with the exit visa codes (early ’90s copy protection!) from *Zak McKracken* somewhere that he lent me, the one you needed to travel between places. That might be as good a hook as any to get back in touch with him. \ No newline at end of file +I sometimes regret not having had the courage to spend more time with him despite teenage peer pressure, but the need to belong and play the social game was as much of a minefield at that age as it is today. That reminds me that I still have the dark brown sheet of paper with the [exit visa codes](https://www.c64copyprotection.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/06/Zak.pdf) (early ’90s copy protection!) from *Zak McKracken* somewhere that he lent me, the one you needed to travel between places. That might be as good a hook as any to get back in touch with him. \ No newline at end of file From 4094df8b07a9b0618ec26083478cc593a9362acc Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: randogoth Date: Mon, 8 Jun 2026 19:32:56 +0300 Subject: [PATCH 10/10] half kilometer --- content/20260608_schulweg.md | 22 ++++++++++++++++++++++ 1 file changed, 22 insertions(+) create mode 100644 content/20260608_schulweg.md diff --git a/content/20260608_schulweg.md b/content/20260608_schulweg.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dcc722b --- /dev/null +++ b/content/20260608_schulweg.md @@ -0,0 +1,22 @@ +title: ½ km +date: 2026-06-08 19:30 +author: T. F. +tags: friends, school, heidelberg +slug: half-km +era: 1986-90 +location: 49.38185773842816, 8.692388996103174 +read_more: Zoom in → + +I was lucky my elementary school was only half a kilometer away from our house, so from an early age I was able to walk there and back. In younger years our nanny took me there but I hardly remember those walks. Later I really enjoyed going to school by myself because I could focus on all the small details on the way. + + + +Having left our house and walked around the corner I loved sliding my hands along the thick oval leaves of the tall rubber hedge that bordered our garden. After that I usually checked if the red Volkswagen Passat of our next door neighbor Opa ██████ was parked in the driveway or not. Further down the road, I had to rush past a certain gate because an evil German shepherd lived there, and nothing scared me more than big dogs. Then came the house with the hippies my parents always ridiculed for their organic and antiauthoritarian lifestyle and I had to cross a small street. + +The main attraction here was the cigarette vending machine mounted on the empty beige wall of a house at the corner I liked to investigate thoroughly, checking for coins in the change return slot and inspecting new cigarette brand logos and typesets. *Camel* was my favorite. Then came some nice wild looking gardens with a lot of flowers. Sometimes I got stressed about being late for school after zoning out for so long that I completely lost track of time. I didn't have a watch back then, but I quickly memorized which types of cars parked at the curb had clocks on their dashboards. + +Like with the cigarette packages I got more and more interested in the different logos, icons, and typefaces on cars, on car door windows, car headlights, hub caps, and bumper stickers. They inspired me to spend time during class creating my own logos and experimenting with various fonts. Luckily, I shared this fascination with █████████, who took the same route to school as I did. Whenever we met on the way, we would discuss our favorite icons, invent secret organizations that might use them as logos, or argue over which logos were ours. I vividly remember the stylized cat logo of [SEV Marchal](https://www.hagerty.com/media/motorsports/the-legend-of-marchal-motor-racings-lucky-black-cat/), which could be found on many *Renaults* and *Peugeots*, being my favorite, while █████████ favored the four pointed compass-rose star shape found in the *Subaru* logo. + +After school, I usually stopped by the convenience store and candy shop directly across from the school, a location that was, in retrospect, a marketing masterstroke. There I would spend my pocket money on gummy bears, chewing-gum cigarettes, and rum-flavored chocolate balls, all of which seemed perfectly normal to children growing up in 1980s West Germany. Or I bought *Panini* sticker packs for my albums, most notably those based on Disney's *The Jungle Book* and the *WWF*—the wildlife conservation organization, not the wrestling federation. That came later. + +Sometimes other kids from my class joined me on the walk home, pulling me out of my private world of logos and typefaces. Since I lived closest to the school, our front steps became an unofficial after-school hangout. We'd sit there laughing, shouting, and wasting time until I finally went inside and the others continued on toward their own homes. \ No newline at end of file