Sorry it’s been so long since I last posted. For what it’s worth, it’s not that I wasn’t writing; I just wasn’t blogging. I’ve been spending some time trying to write a piece of fiction, because I still labor under the weird notion that I’ll be able to craft something more emotionally effective or Important if I do it under the guise of fiction.
It’s really difficult for me, because I’m too respectful of (my version of) The Facts, and also because I tend to make characters who think and react like I do. So I’m trying to get out of that.
Which brings me to Germany. I’m writing this in a cafe of Museum fur Kommunikation in Frankfurt. I’m here for a big pharma conference. Given my family history, I’m not thrilled about being here. I used to tell coworkers & friends that I’d never come here. Why now? Well, business demands it, and I goofed on my coworkers for cutting me out of this event last year, when it was held in Paris, so it wouldn’t be right for me to subsequently blow it off out of personal preference. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to attend a show in Dubai or Saudi Arabia.
But that’s not the only reason I’m here. I wanted to come because I wanted to see what it would do to me. I have no gauge of it right now. I got off the plane a couple of hours ago after an overnight flight, and my room isn’t ready yet, so I’ve just been wandering around the museum district and taking pix. I’m somewhat zonky from the flight, so I haven’t thought too deeply about Germanness. I do find it funny every time I see a word that ends with “fahrt”.
At the end of the week, I’ll visit a pharma facility in Freiburg. My dad says his dad’s family comes from Freiburg. I wonder if part of my ambivalence about this country comes from that idea that it’s part of my heritage. It’s not just nemesis, Mordor, base of evil. It’s in me.
Here’s a sheep with an old telephone for a face:
There are little kids having a birthday party here. Germans are so goddamned strange.