Black metal at town square

Tonight I was at a black metal concert, at town square. Good music, good beer, with good friends. This is one of the things I really like about the town I live in; outdoor extreme metal concerts, on light summer nights. There were all kinds of people in the audience; hard core headbangers, officially straight people like me, even parents with kids.

The headliner bands were Keep of Kalessin and Mayhem. It was great to hear and see Mayhem live. This is one of the pioneer bands within black metal, founded in the late 80's.

Next week I will turn my blog into a voyage diary, for a couple of weeks. I'm going to the northern seas on a seismic survey.The plans are as follows:

o Monday: I fly up to the town known as the northernmost town in the world, flying Six Flags Airlines the last part of the trip, of course. It's the only airline flying to these remote small-towns in the north,

o Tuesday: Prepatory meeting, with offshore crew and onshore support team.

o Wednesday: A helicopter will take us out to the seismic vessel, which is already en route to the survey area >:)

The beginning of my novel - 1st attempt

I have made a first attempt at writing the beginning of my novel, even though the plot is not complete yet. I wrote it yesterday; when reading it today, I realized that I need to rewrite it.

Having read some great blog posts about beginnings, and about "show vs tell", it 's clear that it doesn't work. It starts to slow, and is too much tell, too little show.

Anyway, this is the way it goes:

Chapter 1:

It was summer and, and all the under grad students were gone, the campus was almost empty. Professor Tom Snare was sitting by his desk, in front of the computer, next to a big pile of paperwork.

He could feel a cool gust of wind from the open window. The curtain was moving slowly in the left window, which was open. Some flies tried to get out through the right window, which was closed. Flies never learn.

The relaxing sound of silence filled his head, for a while. Then the damn construction workers started the compressor drills again. The summer was the only time when he could focus on his own research, and revise the course he was teaching. But the summer was also the time for maintenance work on campus buildings.

Shit, how could he work in this noise? Annoyed, he crossed the room in three steps and closed the open window. Then he opened the other window to let the flies out. He smacked a lazy fly in the window frame with his hand, snapped it out of the window and then closed it. The flies are like the students; they stay with him for a while, before he let them fly out to the world, most of them.

.... >:)

Forty days and forty nights

The forty last days had been great, enjoying life, together with his buddies, and with her. But now his time had come. They were just waiting for this little rain shower to pass. Maybe it was a sign. It hardly ever rained in this arid area.

When he he rolled the big rock to the side, and walked out of the dark cave, she was the first to meet him.
- When I was sitting alone, in the dark, and my only entertainment was to touch myself, I saw you soft body before me, he said.
- So good to have you back, she said.
- I will not stay long, I'm leaving again soon.
She went down on her knees, and kissed his feet, and then rose the upper part of her body. He looked down on her black hair.
- Everybody are kissing my feet, but only you gratify my entire body and soul, he said and moaned.

Last night they had a big party. All the guys were there, all the eleven who was still with him, and her, of course.
- Cheers, have some more to drink, he said. - If we run out of wine, I'll just make some more.
They all laughed at his joke. Around midnight they were all drunk.
- Time to go to bed, he said. - My mission is completed. I'm leaving early tomorrow.
They all nodded silently. She touched his shoulder and whispered in his ear:
- You have one more mission to complete tonight.
She led his hand between her legs. He rubbed her thighs, and slowly moved his hand over her soft hair. Sliding his middle finger along her cleft, he could feel that she was moist and ready, in the dry and dark desert night.

The rain was over, the sun was shining again.
- Are you ready? they said. -Let's go.
- Yes, I'm ready,
He kissed her forehead, and said:
- In my mind, I will always keep a picture of your pretty face, a picture that will never age.

Alle Cafés haben ein

Around noon we took the tram down to the city center. We found a free table at Café Havelka. This is a classical Wiener Café, where you can get a good cup of coffee, while reading newspapers or magazines, or just watching people passing by on the street.

The waiter was an old man, with light-blue shirt, black bow-tie and suspenders. Maybe it was Leopold Havelka himself? When he passed by our table, I asked, in my high-school German,
- Entschuldigung, haben Sie ein WC? (excuse me, do you have a toilet?)
He stopped and looked at me for a few seconds, apparently very surprised, and replied
- Ja, alle Cafés haben ein (Yes, every Cafe has one)
- Danke, I said, and ordered another Wiener melange.

(The picture is not from Café Havelka, but from Hundertwasser Haus)

Traveling light

I was flying to the south of Winterland for a meeting today. I had no check-in baggage, and only a pen as carry-on.

Going back home, I had twice as much baggage; my pen and a sheet of paper with some useless notes.

It's OK. I can live with that. And the weather was nice >:)))

The old jew from Brooklyn

Last night I was reading some old travel diaries, from university days, when I was a physics student.

Once we stayed in a small youth hostel in Vienna. There were six beds in each room, and separate rooms for boys and girls. In my room I met a small and skinny man, with white hair and a big beard. He was an 85 year old jew from Brooklyn, older than the rest of us together. He had sold everything he owned, and wanted to spend his money traveling around the world until he died. I thought that was a cool thing to do, while waiting for life to fade out.

He would have been close to 110 years old now, if he was still alive. I wonder how far he got on his journey. I hope he made it all the way to the end >:)

Almost shot by South Park police

South Park is one of my favorite animation series. Let me tell you about a funny and somewhat embarrassing incident, when South Park police pulled the gun against me. Yes, it's true, it happened in South Park, which really exists. The proper name of the area is Park County; in the mountains south-west of Denver.

About ten years ago, we lived outside Denver. We used to spend every weekend skiing or hiking in the mountains or just traveling around sightseeing. Once we went for a round-trip, driving highway 285 out of Denver, then taking highway 24 south to Colorado Springs, and finally the fast route on I-25 back to Denver.

We had stopped in Como, now (almost) a ghost town, formerly a mining and railroad town. Driving through the wilderness towards Fairplay, the county seat of Park County, I suddenly saw a police car coming out from a side road. I couldn't imagine it was after me; I never did anything more criminal than stealing apples in the neighbor's garden. So I kept on driving, even increased the speed, until the police car passed us, almost pushed us off the road, and stopped.
- What's the problem guys, I asked. - Who are you after?
- Your number plate in the front is missing, the cops said.
What the Hell, these guys have too little to do, I thought. I told them that I had the number plate in the glove box, but didn't have a screwdriver to mount it.

They told me to get that number plate on as soon as possible, and then took my driver's license and jumped into the police car to fill out some forms. In a bright moment, I got this brilliant idea: I had my Swiss army knife, with a screwdriver, in my backpack in the trunk of the car. So I took the number plate, jumped out of the car, opened the trunk and started to search for my army knife. Then things happened very quickly.

I heard some yelling behind me. I didn't understand what they said, but obviously they were upset. I turned around, with my army knife in the right hand. Then two cops jumped out of the car, and pulled their guns. They shouted again, and I automatically dropped both my army knife and the number plate to the ground.
- Take it easy guys, I said. - I was just looking for a screwdriver.
At this point I think my Winterlandic accent was to my advantage.
- Hey foreigner, you need to learn that American police are nervous, the cops said.
Then they lowered their guns, gave back my driver's license and wished us a good trip. Happy ending, but I was a little shaky afterwards.

I was used to the police in Winterland; they don't even carry a gun. Now I have learnt one important thing: When stopped by American police, you stay in the car if you don't want trouble ... >:)))

I have this damn novel to write

What the Hell am I doing? Probably, I’ve started something I will never be able to finish. Never mind; it’s not so important. Different from Zappa and the Mothers of Invention, I’m not “in it for the money”; but just for fun.

This is what happened: In Winterland, in the Easter holidays, it has become a tradition that normal, well-behaved people read crime novels. This Easter I wanted to be normal too, so I read a couple of crime novels. The books weren’t too bad; entertaining stories with well-constructed plots; but it was definitely not like Jean Genet or Ibsen or Dostoyevsky (who wrote great “crime novels” like Crime and Punishment and Brothers Karamasov).

In a moment of exaggerated self confidence, I said, to my old lady:
- Bet I could write crime stuff like that myself.
Shit, I shouldn't have said that, because she immediately gave me the challenge:
- So prove it.
Now, I’m working on the plot, and inventing the characters, and personalities and names for all these mean bastards who make trouble for my hero; they even try to kill him. Then I need conflicts and tension, in every scene, I learnt from the writer-blogs I follow (thank you for these very useful blogs, such as Straight from Hel, The Blood Read Pencil, and Judy Croome). And all the time I find myself swimming in semicolons; I have to stop that immediately.

I had to make a few choices. I don’t have the time to do research (other than in geophysics), so I will use a setting and environment that I know fairly well. In about all the crime novels I have read, the main characters are police officers or journalists. Not so in my novel. My hero is a physics professor (what else, and yes, I know I’m not the first, Dan Brown’s protagonist is professor in iconology).

Then I have to choose the language. Chinese and Swahili are out of question, don't know a single word of it, and my German is very rotten now. Then I’m left with English or Winterlandic, don’t know yet what I will choose. Anyway, I will probably publish the shit chapter by chapter on my blog (or a parallel one) as I write.

Sorry, no more time for blogging now. I have this damn novel to write ... >:)))