I am going to lose myself here, I know it. It is snowing outside, quarter-sized chunks of frozen water are coming down from the sky. Oddly, it did not rain today, though the sky threatened it constantly. Tom and I spent what seemed like a decade inside the German History Museum, and upon leaving there was a sort of “what” hanging over the evening, as in: that was fucking knarly, I am tired, you are tired, let´s just check in later.

It is a very odd sensation, having this discussion with your brother on the UBahn when in the forty years you have known him, you´ve never ridden on a subway with him before. Even odder when you get up at your stop and know exactly where to go and he has two more stops but he knows exactly where to go. Trippy.

So we took a night off from the cigarette and beer infused lateness, last night was the first night when I thought I would go insane from the smoke. We were in the “youth center” in Pankow, where Kasch’s brother Flo (short for Florian – note to Carrie, any future Essa baby should be named Florian, cause that is the Best Name Ever) is the manager/bartender. Essentially the youth center is a bar with a disco ball and a foosball table, and every single youth was smoking like a chimney. Also, beers were something like one Euro. The youth center is only open Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday, because it is subsidized by the government. As we walked in, Flo’s girlfriend offered me a Toffiefay candy, something I haven’t eaten since I was a teenager myself. Anyway.

Tonight, after a long day of walking in my neighborhood and then on down to Mitte where I met Tom for a Currywurst and museum visit, I headed back home. With no plans and no one to see I went into the little cafe on the corner, where I ordered something that looked to be chili con carne with a side salad. It was exactly that, only the chili was inside of a potato. Awesome! I sat there and read “Sound Bites” by Alex Kapranos from Franz Ferdinand and this little cafe is perfect, with lots of low murmurs and good cheap food and not an insane amount of smoke. I am sitting by the floor to ceiling glass door while the theme from Zorba the Greek is playing, and I look out and it is snowing! Snowing! My heart is suddenly overflowing with emotion for the third time today; the first was in the Kollwitzplatz, a sweet and leafy square that was today empty but for some singing birds; the second was in the World War II section of the German History museum, where the faces of normal people photographed in their incarcerated state and a plaster replication of a gas chamber pretty much slayed me. The third I am filled with love and longing and outside the window, even now, the snow comes down hard. But my apartment is just across the street, and I am going to climb into bed, look at the snow, drink wine, eat chocolate, and watch German MTV. All of you who know me know how happy I am.

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