Where have I been all week?

A week without posting! What's the deal? How am I to know I even did anything if I have no post to show for it? Let me (Achtung! Klischee!) take a stroll down memory lane.

Monday
Wrote press release about Spirit of Football's 50th day on the road. Sent it to Spirit of Football directors to look over before it goes out. Spent too long sitting in chair. Harvested contact info of important sports people.

Spent three hours teaching English.

Translated a report about the meeting of Spirit of Football and the mayor of Kati, Erfurt's twin city in Mali.  Sven gave my German a makeover and and sent the report to local newspaper Thüringer Allgemeine.

Used the word nichtsdestoweniger for the first time.

Tuesday
Trip to Frankfurt with Sven to meet with an NGO called Kickfair cancelled.  Wrote press release about Spirit of Football's interview with Malian football/soccer legend Salif Keita.

Got email back from Christian from Spirit of Football- apparently criticizing my 50th-day-on-the-road press release. The problem seemed to lie somewhere in this sentence: "It's a journey fit for those not short on spunk."

"Please use a subtler turn of phrase," the email implored.

Read release again. Found nothing wrong with it. Feelings bruised. Wondered, what's wrong with a little spunk? Wrote delicately defensive email back, saying needed new words to describe The Ball 2010's journey/pilgrimage/odyssey to South Africa. Had already used "amazing," "daring", "inspiring" and "ambitious hardly begins to describe" so many times.

Bought groceries.

Went to McFit. Noticed McDonald's is kitty-corner from McFit. Realized do not know how to say "kitty-corner" in German. Kätzchenecke, the literal translation, is probably not it.

Got email from Christian, explaining that "spunk" means "cum" in British. Most of our press contacts are in England. Aha. Fixed the offending sentence and sent spunk-free release to press contacts.

Drank wine poured generously by Robert, my roommate who has a nasty habit of speaking English with me.

Baked banana bread and brought some over to Micha, who had never had it before. Watched Sweeney
Todd in German, Micha threatening to fall asleep.

Wednesday
Got email from Spirit of Football's Phil, now in Burkina Faso, asking me to use only British English in press releases from now on. Honour. Colour. Favourite. My spellchecker objects to this as I type.

Carpark. Pram. Lift. Jumper. Full stop.

Met up with Sven in Weimar, planned out the newsletter we are working on about The Ball, which I hope will be allowed to be called The Baller. 

It was Saint Patrick's Day but no one in Erfurt seems to have noticed.


Thursday
Day of hopeless attempts. Got to the language school to find my English course canceled for the day. Attempted to meet up with someone to repair my bicycle, after work, as planned, who didn't answer my calls.

Spent the evening reading the script of a play called Nest, by Bathsheba Doran, set in early-1800s Philadelphia. Michael, theater student in San Diego, sent it to me. He is performing in it soon. He inquired as to my thoughts. Well. The play begins like this:

SCENE 1
A dark kitchen in the middle of the day. Susanna Cox crouched, masturbating quietly, efficiently.
Jacob enters, holding a jug. He watches for a moment.

JACOB
Susanna?

(She stops immediately.)

What are you doing?

A beat.

SUSANNA
Nothing.

Identified with a new nation's struggle to find its artistic identity:

"We can no longer depend on Europe for art. Europe no longer understands us. We are currently without a voice and I consider it a national emergency. America must be written. She longs to be articulated, she craves form and meaning."

Decided to write more. Yes! And better! Reminisced about theater class with Michael, practicing stage slaps and stage falls and stage screams.Went to bed early.


Friday
Took the train to Leipzig and went to an event put on by the Leipziger Volkszeitung and the American Consulate. Met His Excellency John C. Kornblum, who, as the American Ambassador to Germany, had started Congress-Bundestag Youth Exchange in 1983. He was happy to see that the program was still going
on 26 years later.

Saturday
Attended the Leipziger Buchmesse  until I physically couldn't move anymore, which happened around 1 p.m. It was super crowded. Funnily enough, as an avid bookreader, the book fair isn't quite my scene. I'm glad I went, but honestly I find book fairs ironic. Book readers and book writers tend to be really introverted, private people. Fairs are for people who like spectacle and noise. I imagine for writers it would be torture to go to a Buchmesse.

Felt guilty for speaking English all weekend. Read Jon McGregor's If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things in German on the train home.

Sunday
Today. Underachieved appropriately. Wrote an hour or two for the newsletter.  Read Christopher Isherwood's The Berlin Stories.

Looked up kitty-corner: Schräg gegenüber. Not Kätzchenecke as privately hoped.

All things considered, not a bad week, though there was no room for grooving to electro this week.

Soon.