About-o-graphy

My first devilish idea, and it seemed to be a pretty darn good one at the time, was to cram as many potatoes as I could into a single jar. It’s actually not that hard.
The trick is, as usual, to get them out of the jar and back to where they belong before dinner. That, my friends, is virtually impossible. At least if you are only four years old and never been outside the neighborhood block.

The second adaptation of the adult world was to replicate the latest history class at my very leftist and progressive grade school. I had just learned that you should feel sorry for all the African people cause they were oppressed. And it was all due to the imperialistic western world. And yada, yada, yada…
My young political mind, which was too far ahead for it’s own good, decided to join my fellow brothers in their struggle for freedom. I armed myself with some black shoe polish and a brush and started to convert my fair skin into the darkest of chocolate.
I think I was grounded for about a week, which I later learned is the average amount of time it takes for good quality shoe polish to wear off. You can’t beat mother nature.

The third and last premonition of my future adaptive unconsciousness must have happened (yes, it’s rather unclear) when I was roaming around Europe pre-cell phone era. I had just spent a year at an American high school in Los Angeles and returned back to Europe with a larger-than-life persona. Non grata I might add.
The zest for life, freedom and liberty was awoken at my European return and I wanted to burst out of my post-modern, suburban and predictable life into an adventurous and animated future. But my whole surrounding was stuck in a post-war socialistic depression that felt like a gray, wet wool blanket, ready to suffocate any passionate thought or desire. No one had seen Ferris Bueller’s Day off but they all knew The Seventh Seal by heart.

So I embarked, as all heroes do, on a journey – both geographical and mental. I took the road less traveled, emptied my bank account and decided to follow my spiritual fathers in their quest for life as it should be lived, as it could be lived if all but’s and dont’s where shaken off like an old dead skin. My first destination was New York. I arrived a very cold January evening with no place to stay. I knew I had found was I was looking for when I walked around Times Square trying to find a cheap hotel to crash at. I had a small bag pack and was dressed for Paris in the springtime. But still to this day I remember the excitement, the pulse and the eagerness I felt when I knew that my life had started.