I have almost frozen to death because I couldn’t get out of the bath tub before I finally had finished Paul Auster’s ‘Brooklyn Follies’. What a wonderful novel. So full of stories each of which is rich enough to grow into a novel of its own, with more subsubsubnovels. I love books that make you feel as if literature is but catching mere bits from an endless flow of possible stories in endless possibilities of style and structure. I like how Auster doesn’t get lost in details, he sticks to the core and gives you just as much decoration as to breathe life into his language and plot.
The cream on top of my shitty week-end: My flu has stolen my sense of smell. This sucks because to me one of the few enjoyable things about having a cold is all the menthol oils that are supposed to help you get through. I love the smell of Tiger Balm – aaah, menthol mixed with something spicy, maybe cinnamon? – but today I just feel the burn of it on my skin but there’s zero scent. Two days spent dozing and watching the ‘Misfits’ series and drinking camomille tea and dozing and reading and taking painkillers at 3am to get some sleep in spite of the pain in the limbs and getting up to switch from bed to sofa at 8am cause not feeling tiredenough to sleep anymore and drinking peppermint tea and coughing and sneezing till the lungs ache (more than after club nights before the smoking ban) and rewatching ‘Skins’ and dozing and getting all dizzy because of the fever whenever getting up to cook more tea or when sneezing. Thrilling weekend activities, I tell ya. Sorry, interweb people, but there’s no one else around to moan at. And I still don’t really feel better so I recommend skipping the read if I post again in the next couple of days cause it might only be more actionfilled stories about my flu sufferings being so much crueler than everyone else’s.
Oh, and the Kristof Schreuf show was really good. The songs – (please let’s not compare his new album with mash ups) – and his stories. He reminded me a bit of Columbo (one of the coolest tv detectives of the 70s in case you kids don’t know him): Whenever you thought he would start the next song he paused and came up with another ‘there’s just this one more thing I have to tell you..’. I loved his voice, too, especially in the more quiet songs. He’s got this velvety voice with a bit of raspiness here and there – very nice and intense. And he came across as one of those wonderful and rare idealists whose charisma can fill a room and is so soothing and encouraging. Idealism not in a ‘I-got-the-solution’ way. It was more the kind of idealism that shimmers through little stories, told with a mix of wittiness and naivity, and is neverever afraid of ridicule. Ach, that’s my favourite kind of (anti)-‘heroes’. Very Dr. Who if I think of it. Basically also very WorldInferno FS. In my feverish little brain. Which the poor me better is off to soothe with more steaming hot tea now before I start blabbering nonsense.
P.S.: Lokale Leidenschaften has put a clip of a bit of the show online: Schreuf ‘s cover of Einstürzende Neubauten’s ‘Prolog’:
P.S.P.S.: Hier gibt’s auch eine ordentliche Konzertbesprechung vom Motorhorst. Und hier noch eine von einem Konzert anderswo, die das ‘Phänomen’ Kristof Schreuf teilweise wirklich gut auf den Punkt bringt.