A dilemma in which you put as a resident of the Ruhr area are: on the one hand, you can find it here on a strange, almost perversely so wonderful that you will never be gone. On the other hand, enter Hamburg, Berlin or even think about ever visit to Cologne. Since it is in fact much better. Once in Hamburg, I do not immediately clear. The air. It smells so natural to skillfully and almost not at all intentional. At most of the Elbphilharmoniebaustelle. On the ticket issue in the main train station ticket saleswoman smiles a typical hamburger smile, friendly and careful. "So you are the Max from Bochum," she says and pushes me an envelope in his hand. "Stefan's Bochum friend" written on the label. Fritzi from the ticket shop always know my friend Stefan, Ex-Bochum-punk, and we dealt cards for Chris Resnick.
"I would need three more cards, that's it?" I ask.
"Just three are still there," says Fritzi and we look forward to a round. Also it comes with.
mention the term Neuralgic concert I first against Bertram. I think that's appropriate because I have a feeling that all the threads that have been before the visit to Hamburg, almost spun by himself surprisingly broad and on-site spin still run together there. I have used the term "neuralgia" is actually misused, I remember the first on now that I nachklicke it on Wikipedia. "Critical point" designates not a nervous knot or a nerve center, but "an environment, a situation or a place that carries certain difficulties or risks." Basically I have it but still made the mark. For if many different people meet, the more risky. Hosni Mubarak will confirm the safe.
Everything we do before, seems like an overture to the neuralgic concert.
"The Neuralgic concert."
"I can not hear it," says Bertram. "If you keep pretending to stress you put too many expectations in there and can meet any night of the world."
We walk through the magnificent City and freeze our ass off. Finally arrived at the Thalia Theater, we sit sucks. As always when I visit this legendenumrankte house. The last time I sat in the place and looked practically from the air on the hairstyles of the actors. Today in the last row of the stalls, where the low-hanging the grandstand view of the stage moved halfway. The "Hamlet" is boring and fortunately it does not matter. Reaps the most applause at a distance of a stage musician Jens Thomas. Therefore, it is therefore disappeared from Bochum: Because he made it to the big city.
In the Washington Bar, who is called current indicator light Hington Bar ", we celebrate the end of the best campus magazine the world and carry the TV with Beate intern in the poodle. She is native of Vienna talks, knotless Viennese and we just like to hear. Bertram bye in between, because he wants to "buy something" out there.
"Where Bertram was for so long?" Beatrice asks me when he turns up again.
"He's gone out to buy something, I tell her.
"What?"
I wonder briefly. "Drinks", I say.
"Oh, are cheaper out there?" Asked Beatrice.
The next morning, the final coda of the overture for the concert Neuralgic. I think.
"Max!" Bertram admonished me severely, but still goes to the breakfast with Portuguese compared to the Rote Flora. How good he is, can, like so much, do not describe with my limited vocabulary, unfortunately.
"If you actually tear off the Red Flora one day, then here is war," we agree and go to the flea market. The seller at the book as it actually manages my Maarten 't Hart's book, "Bach and I" sell without the accompanying CD with musical examples.
"They have gone through the school vendor," I praise him.
His head rattles and he stutters: "The Seller school ... er ... of life!"
I am delighted that he has learned first lessons in repartee.
It is getting colder and approaching the nerve concert. Bertram and I are on the floor of his living room clearly structured and rigid at the ceiling.
"Whether it is probably really good," I ask myself more than him.
"No, can not it be SO good," replied Bertram annoyed easily.
I wonder what he has. After all, come to the concert: Marie, the top journalist who is always looking for a funky adventure and it checks out, the last dive bars. Fritzi, the original Hamburg ticket seller with the absolute will to the party. Stefan, the punk who likes to drink a lot, then in love every three to four minutes in a new wife and they can know that too. Bertram, the head over heels is in love with Edna. Edna, the mysterious, unapproachable beauty in a dark robe. Your name and profile-free friend. From metropolis to metropolis: Beate, the open-minded television intern from Vienna. And mubu, a tall, burly Africans with wrinkled-face crumpled from their WG. He is abschiebegefährdet because it does not decrease, that he is only 17 years old.
A lift is up there in the concert venue. It is evil and dangerous and is on the fourth floor of a tapping-inspiring bunker.
"Certainly a certain difficulty or risk sheltering place", I think, and look forward to the other.
But they are not there yet. Gradually they dribble come and put up miserably. Almost no changes in a word, so here is all just stare. I get myself out of sheer fright a whiskey-Cola and then listen quietly with the other Christian Rösinger: "It's all so pointless yes no This keeps people from more You have to lie down just yet Or you might not even first... at. "
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