all is fair game

This blog will be about whatever I feel like posting at any given time. Although it will undoubtedly include some of my own writing and photography, it will also be a platform for exploring other people’s ideas and creations. Nearly everything interests me; my penchants are expansive, and I haven’t yet placed any limits on possible subject matter.  Not knowing where this will lead is half the fun of doing it.

For the past couple of months, I’ve been keeping tabs on a very talented young man from Berlin. If you’re not already familiar with the work of Peter Fox, allow me to introduce you via one of the most visually and sonically compelling music videos I’ve ever come across. (More videos can be found here.)

Update: I have added a translation by Benjamin Stürmer.

I come out of the club, it was great in there
Reek of drink, blasted, it’s a beautiful life
Step over booze-corpses rotting in my path
I see the rats stuffing themselves full in the shadow of the Döner shops
Trudge through the puke at the Kotti*, the junkies are fogged
Homies drooling around, misbehaving
Scene brats searching desperately for the scene
Pierced girls who want me to read the Straßenfeger**

Half o’ six, my eyes are burnin’
Step on a dude kipped out among dead pigeons
Hysteric chicks flippin’ out in a panic, ’cause on the corner there’s stress between Tarek and Sam
Tarek says “Shut it, or you’ll get it in the face.”
Sam shitless, but can’t just stay quiet
The red soup drips to the asphalt
I feel sick, I zip up my jacket because it’s cold.

Chorus:
Good morning, Berlin
You can be so ugly, so filthy and gray
You can be so wonderfully horrible
Your nights consume me
Yeah, it’s best for me
That I go home to sleep it off
And while I walk through the streets
Black slowly turns to blue

Tired figures in the neon light
with deep wrinkles in their faces
The early shift is silent, each keeps to himself
Frustration builds as the bus doesn’t come…
and everywhere lies shit, you’ve really got to float
Everyone’s got a dog but no one to talk to
I just breath through my mouth, that’s part of my life
I feel unhealthy, need something pure to fight it

I’ve got a hell of a head, I need a juice
I could really use some Bagdads Backwaren***
It’s warm there, there I can lose myself in my dreams
With Fatima, the sweet baker
R ‘n’ B ballads pump from a parked Benz
It’s quitting time for the street gangs
A hooligan lies sobbing in the arms of a woman
Hey, this city just isn’t as tough as you think

Chorus

I am blasted and I rub your dust from my eyes
You aren’t beautiful, and you know it
Your skyline screwed up, you don’t even look good from a distance
But the sun is coming up now
And I know, whether I want to or not
That I need to breathe you

*The Kotti is an area in Berlin.
**The Straßenfeger is a homeless newspaper.
***I think this is a pastry shop.