and no real content. no stories, no gonzo-adventures.
just some dam videos
seriously, dont do drugs. no, i mean it. dont do drugs. especially not if there are strangers with camera phones. ask kate moss.
here is the next shocking truth about those little helpers you should never take. at least not when sven väth is around. or his clone ritchie hawtin.... cause drugs are really really bad. they make you dumb, sweaty, dancy, loose your hair,
yes, this really is sven kissing ritchie. full tongue, full xtc.
"US President George W. Bush has said the September 11 revolt of passengers against their hijackers on board Flight 93 had struck the first blow of "World War III"." (Der Spiegel)
so far so stupid. just wanted to share some interesting piece of news-junk with you. no more details revealed. not yet. can you hear the canons rumbeling? the truth is somewhere out there. and no one seems to care really. the world is too busy shopping prada, playing golf, writing nonsense and doing yoga. too much disinformation at large and not enough filters we can trust.
gotta go. turn this devilish mac off before i get too paranoid and worried. spring-time for bush-ler?
the only question remaining is where to hide if the shit hits the fan.
there is even a mcdonalds at the arctic circle. so where shall we hide?
my bet would be somewhere in africa, coz only bono and his even-more-pain-in-the-ass-friend bob geldof seem to remember the lost continent these days. and i have some fly sunglases too.
i was digging for some material on david belle, the parkour kid from the banlieues of paris. a kind of real life spiderman without the knitting.
but while searching i found this - and i am quiete sure that some of you pop-soldiers havent ever seen this video,
didnt mtv look innocent back in the early days? everybody seems trippy-happy...
anyway, this is for all the people i have let down once again.
and this is for all the too-cool-to-like-the-orchestra-sound-of-those-dam-hippies-carnales...
as you can imagine this clip looks way cooler than parkour as an event. last saturnday kitchennazi and johnpaul had to sneak out through the fire exit at the first world parkour meeting in berlin, cause it just doesnt work when belle jumps from one wooden box to the next. maybe freerunning (the show-off-version of parkour) is better for real-life-events.
which is why i have another video for you. its from davids film he did with luc besson...
what a nice day. i am lying in bed back in munich. smiling like some retard on ambien. the whole weekend was especially pleasent, and today wasnt any given sunday. today was a rich day with tasty ingredients. mini holidays for the soul. and a bag full of sun, greenery, mexican food, kitchennazis beautiful soft skin, pasta with creme fraiche/lemon and chilling in the park under a mellow blue sky ...
no time for blogging big in the next couple of weeks.
b. fantastic content to sample, cut and remix from other cool sites.
enjoy - and thanks to the naughty lumpi for lintelling me about it!
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but better late than lost. okay kids, summer break is over. johnpaul had to pay for his blogging-account for the first time and obviously had to try sneaking it for free. didnt work this time. click on those dam ads, otherwise it will be your fault if i starve to death. doh!
a lot has happened since we last spoke and i cant remember half of them.
first i went to see pearl jam performing at the astoria in london. and i have to say that eddie vedder and his mates killed it. seriously, i have never beeen to a better concert in my life. and the self titled album "pearl jam" is probably the best thing they have recorder since "ten". hooray for pj.
than i went partying with 12 (!) playmates you can look at in the upcoming playboy. haha!! how did they look? actually dressed cheaper than naked...
and to top all of this i went to see a private concert the red hot chili peppers gave in hamburg. 500 people, 80 minutes highly professional show and some new material. a cool gig. and even anthony sounded like he had some vocal-training - or just a nice gadget out of techno-wonderland?
the rest was "crazy" like gnarls barkley,
did you watch episode 18 of 24s latest season? does the name christopher henderson sound too familiar?
forget george w. bush.
mr. henderson is a real bad-ass. a true jedi-master gone dark. jack bauers ben kenobi as terrorist conspirator. a servant to the dark side of the force. and finally a true opponent to our favourite tv-agent.
did you see what he did to xxxxx? now thats what i call evil. death or alive is for amateurs. 3 minutes till midnight is for players.
of a geezer. nope, not a skinner day, but a nasty johnpaul. seriously man, it was a blueprint of a shitty day. what a fuckup. 24h to delete, not even acceptable for directors. cut.
it started with herr rossi pissing into my travel-bag. PISSING into my travel-bag?!
no, not my flatmate. his cat.
what herr rossi didnt know and what drives me a little closer to my inner-batemann is the fact that my 250gb harddrive was in that bag. and my white vans half.cabs. ready to go to london to meet pearl jam tomorrow. but thats a different story.
obviously the piss ran out of the hd when i turned it around - onto my couch.
by the time i got to work i realized that i had to finish a story by today. plus correcting some trying-hard-to-be-an-overachievers-but fails-guys text on gaming for a big german companys annual report.
managed to do both.
played three games of kicker (we got new balls, baby).
left the office at 8.30...
and than boom.
i hit a fucking concrete pillar in our parking garage.
not with the car, how stupid do you think i am?
with the head - while watching a cool porsche gt3 leaving on the other side of this concrete hell.
after regaining seight i realized that fat ass headache waiting to kick in.
and on a day like this you wont find parking. thats for sure. not even for this dam little piece of plastic (the brabus, remember?).
35 (!) minutes and half a mile walking later i got home. to find
a. my piss-dripping harddisc
b. a letter from the tax-cops inquiring about some 2001-bullshit.
c. all washing liquid gone. and a bag full of clothes (my favourite ones - of course) smelling of cat-piss
d. an empty zip-lock-bag
what a bummer.
okay. its easter-friday and germany seems like on valium. no one is on the streets, shops are closed and everybody eats fish. hey, thats not what jesus died for.
anyway, did anyone notice those ads i put on this site? click on them and make me rich. doesnt the blog look more serious now? naw. to be quiete honest i put them there because i was curious how this google adsense-thing works.
but where are gucci, prada, adidas, versace, bathing ape, red bull, vans, triple 5 soul, nike, powell peralta, stüssy, osama bin laden or the rockstar-headz when you need them? i cant believe google sends me ads for security- and background-check-services.
do i regularly write about fucking sherlock holmes or what?
potential columbine-shooters and one flatz. last night turned out pretty funny. not knowing what to do with myself i got a call asking me to come to a sepultura show.
hell yeah. loud, dark, chaos ad? of course i went.
but it turned out like a weired flashback: i never expected to see such a smelly young crowd headbanging and playing the air guitar to songs i stopped listening to almost 15 years ago. pale, white, overweight teens, old grumpy rockers and the typical bunch of outcasts working as system administrators or at some post-department in some dirty cellar of the industrial world.
the cool thing was meeting flatz himself once again, munichs art sensation, who i ended up standing at the back with, not sure whether we think its really funny or run away screaming. especially after the sepultura-gig, when a band called "in flames" took the main stage. some swedish dark-metall-shit with a singer who wouldnt stop bragging on. i guess he was as surprised as we were that 3000 people actually paid money to see him and his band.
not yet. sorry. couldnt find the right headline i guess. i am fucking pissed off that proof got shot. why can you get a guy out of a ghetto but never ghetto out of a man? johnpaul was looking for a video but couldnt find anything decent. but i stumbled upon this track. and proof once told me he likes it.
on what supposed to be an easy day off. just got a call from detroit. proof was shot this morning, leaving an after-hour club on 8 mile road. apparently he got into a fight with one of the bouncers, 2 guns were pulled and at the end two men were shot. proof in the head. black americas nightmare. and another lost soul in the rap wars.
what the fuck is wrong with those guys? it might sound like the biggest clischee but it actually still happens in american innercities. and this time it caused the tragic death of an inspired and talented rapper i was fortuned to meet on several occasions in the last couple of years.
with d12s devils night spinning in my ear i wanna say good bye to the man who made eminem happening, a gifted rapper, a man with mean looks when needed and a witty charme when wanted. a loyal soldier to the rapgame.
may he rest in peace
D-12 member Proof was shot and killed in Detroit, Michigan this morning (April 11) at an after hours club on Eight Mile Road. Proof, born Deshaun Hotlon, was murdered at the Triple C club around 4:30 am and another man was seriously wounded, both with gunshots to the head.
"Contrary to earlier rumors and reports, D-12 member Bizarre was not involved in the incident in Detroit last night," Interscope said. "He was at home in Atlanta, Georgia."
Proof was signed to Eminem's Shady Records as a member of the platinum selling group, D-12.
The group, which features members Eminem, Kon Artis, Proof, Swift , Bizarre and Kuniva, released their debut album Devil's Night in 2001. The group followed with D12 World in 2004, which produced the hit single "My Band." Proof followed with a solo album titled Searching for Jerry Garcia in 2005, released on his own label, Iron Fist Recordings.
Proof was an influential figure on the Detroit rap scene, hosting legendary battles at the Hip Hop Shop, immortaled by mekkhi phifers appearcance as "future" in the movie 8 mile.
my first day off during the week in ages. seriously, i have no clue what to do - and 1001 things in my head. where shall i start? my life needs a big spring sweep, and now its time to do so.
obviously an afternoon without any obligations has to start with a good cd. lets see... wicked, found an old ltj bukem i havent heard in years.
right, whats new on the web? hmm, no interesting sneakers found on ebay. but wait a minute. do you remember when the air max came out and your parents wouldnt buy you some? now its your choice to make a change: nikeid.com offers the air max series, starting with the obvious must-haves from 1990. and dude, they are all here, the 95s as well. and it gets even better. cou can choose colours from nearly everything, including the colour of the swoosh! plus, and this is really the icing on the cake (kitchennazis chocolate cake at its best), the last option they provide us with is the id-section. ha, guess what: i will be the pround owner of a pair of crisp, white only am 90 in a world exklusive johnpaul-edition, limited to 2 (!) - one to wear and one for the british museum. hell yeah
okay, money blown wisely, now its time to cruise to get a coffee at my dear friend lucians cafe. and since last monday cruising munich became more and more racing munich, chasing porsche-drivers and scare any bmw m3 beyond good: yeah, johnpaul proudly sports the new smart fourfour brabus edition. 180 horsepower for 23 kilos of plastic. plus a bose soundsystem. sweet.
talk to you later
and a lot more talent than this boring, overrated and too nice to be cool heartthrob jack johnson. yes my dear, i am talking about ben harper.
the man who played one of the most amazing concerts i was priviliged to watch back in berkeley. go and get the new ben harper double-cd NOW. i seriously wonder why this truly inspired artist is still a kind of undiscovered gem?
and i am sure jack johnson will bite his nails listening to "both sides of the gun", cause the surfer-kid knows deep inside that all he ever wanted was to sound like harper.
thats what i call a guerilla-marketing-stunt: celebrating the 100th issue of maxim they came up with the idea of installing a 110-foot-magazine cover in primm, nevada, only a couple of meters awar from the california state line.
people flying into vegas from california can see the bikini-bird lying around in mojave desert. apparently you can even see it from outa-space. nice work!
frontier has fallen. no, not the normandy, fool.
bill is at the gates.
what started as a shitty day got worse by the hour. first i realized how fucking late i am writing my portrait on mike skinner, than food in the cantina was a. cold and b. more boring than in years. and now apple presents "boot camp", the end of think different.
After some geeks managed to run windows xp on their intel macs (what a stupid idea in the first place) and now apple takes the lead by offering "boot camp", following the same evil path.
seriously, it shocked me like it did when anakin chose to join the dark side of the force.
obviously its a clever move towards the soulless mainstream, selling millions of computers to users, who can now choose what to boot: os or xp. just the thought of installing xp on my next mac makes me sick in the stomach. isnt the operating system what its all about?
can you see all the xp-users storming into the apple store in soho, asking for xp support?
bill gates eating an apple? eris coming down on earth?
i guess we should all run and find those last powerbooks left out there. the paradigms are about to change. define your positions.
straight edge, brothers and sisters.
once again its time
germany? check out this little film i found. its a prank on an image campaign germany started a couple of month before the world cup. be offended, be pissed off. or just come over and share some time with friends.
i know i was being a pretty lazy host n the last couple of weeks, but there is too much offline-happening these days. but as long as you lazy toads cant be bothered writing comments, why am i supposed to deliver. spare me or spam me.
if you wanna call a friend in bagdad. you have to dial 001 to get connected into iraq. since when? did you know that? well, i didnt untill this morning...
001 - hmmm, thats the number you use calling the US. since when is iraq part of the american homeland? the 52nd state? imagine the new licence plates: iraq - the oil state - instead of california, the sunshine state.
and i always thought his tonyness tries to get england promoted to become the 52nd star on the banner.
there are people you meet and forget instantly while still sitting right infront of them. and there are people you meet and you know you can call yourself lucky for getting an opportunity to meet such a person.
yesterday this happened to me. i had the great honor to sit and talk for two hours to martin varsavsky, the companero behind fon, evengelist of the wi-fi-world and embodyment of evil to all the big telecom-suckers. the basic idea of fon is pretty easy: you share your wi-fi-bandwith at home, become a fonero, and surf for free at any other foneros hotspot. so far fon has over 25 000 hotspots already and the number is rising every minute. its the @daption of grassroots-democracy, turning fon into the volksempfänger of tomorrow. i cant reveal any more details yet due to the portrait i am writing in the next couple of days, but here is a brief summery of martins life, the blueprint of a 21st century entrepreneur:
martin left argentina after the right-wing junta killed his cousin. he arrived at new york, age 16, where he set up his first company (real estate) while still at school. his second enterprise was an adventure into biotech, which happened because martin wouldnt buy all the nazi propaganda about aids being a form of gay cancer. so he invested and managed to come up with one of the first hiv-tests in history. in the nineties he started several phone- and internet-companies, sold most of them and is now ready and prepared to revolut the wi-fi-game. check his blog and fon.com.
to the jungle. once again it seems like "chinese democracy" is about to get released. axl rose has been recording over 1500 (!) hours of music - and is sheduled to play some festivals this summer. in theory.
at least we know that axl rose is not dead. he is sporting some dam ugly dread-locks now, but thats a different story. i was pretty thrilled when my good friend timstar told me about four new g´n´r-songs he somehow managed to get hold of. couple of hours later we sat there, drinking, smoking and listening to "better", "i.r.s", "catcher in the rye" and "twat".
and if this is the creme axl has to offer after 1500 hours in the studio he should rather go back and record some 10 000 hours more.
still, it was pretty cool to hear this madmans unique voice once again, a nice flashback to the early nineties, although 3 of the 4 tracks really suck. its probably just a clever pr-stunt to promote whatever might be follwoing. in axls words: get in the ring, motherfuckers.
did the cops see me? will they turn around and follow? ahh, my white audi provides a good cover. dont panic. take off the yankees-cap and move.
why do i have dried blood on my hand?
and can i please get rid off this lame after-taste of the last vodka-bull i drank 8 hours ago.
when did i get home? and why did i bother calling people, waking them up?
gosh. i hate those twilight-drives to work. paranoia creeps down my spine. i am still drunk. and this bloody morning is too bright. wait. didnt i bring my new spy-sunglases? but where? maybe in my triple-5-soul-jacket on the backseat.
can i just please be in the office. relax. close the windows, dim the lights, unplug the phone and drink a liter of water.
aspirin would help.
where did i end up last night? after the hugo-boss-party and the 2 places i cant remember the names of and this pain in the ass trendy yuppie-bar.
ahh. i went to check out a club that just reopened. it used to be my favourite hangout, but it turned out to be the new gucci-chic-den. surfers wearing prada. fucking insane. anyway.
have to go. before the cops stop me.
some people go to vegas to get married, some to lose a fortune and some to break bones. here comes news from the lunatic of the week: the man who jumped the great wall of china on his skateboard last year just announced some next level shit he is planning to do this time: danny way will attempt to smash the bomb drop world record by jumping from the giant neon-covered guitar atop the hard rock casino and hotel in las vegas.
some facts on the jump:
- height of guitar-total drop: 66'- 20m
- likely freefall 20-30'-6-10m
- width of landing ramp 24'-7.27m
- flat bottom 64'-19.4m
- height of quarterpipe 27'-8.2m
- width of quarterpipe 48'-14.54m.
- entry speed into top of ramp 30mph-48kmh
- exit speed 45mph-72kmh.
- current record 12' 3.6"
good luck, danny!
johnpaul is watching
in case you missed out on the stunt danny did at the great wall... dont try this at home, kids!
adicolor! and to top this really beautiful and sunny day i have a confession to make: i bought 2 pairs! hell yeah. one to wear (maybe, maybe not) and one as a retirement plan. the only momentum spoiling this fantastic day happened at the adidas store though: they have an adicolor leather jacket in the fancy wooden-box with all the colours and stuff. limited to 4000 worldiwde... at 600 euro a shoot. and its only one left.
any idea how i get 600 euro in the next 2 h? bank robbery, prostitution, selling my crappy car? obviously i asked them to reserve this last box till 1800. dem gone.
oh well, 2 pairs of fantastic, fresh, crisp and pure white adicolor superstars made my day.
which greedy bastard came up with that stupid idea? wikipedia printed? who wants 100 wiki-books shelved in his house? meters and meters of mistakes and half-wisdom. outdated as any other dictionary - not to mention the estimated 1490 euro.
a pretty expensive dust-collector to me. why not start taping cds again? buy music? book our flights at a travel agency or take analog fotos and scan them later?
what was the point wikipedia started out again?
fresh intelligence. and this didnt include a retro paper-version.
if they get it done in time the google-mob can actually digitalize wikipedia again... wouldnt that be great?
and how about a hand-written, medieval-monk-edition with goldcut? a pimped out wiki is not planned? too shy?
i'm not shocked that tom cruise and his creepy mates have managed to block the "south park" episode "trapped in the closet" from re-airing. and i seriously doubt that we ever get to see it in europe. at least not legally.
but whats the deal? other people have survived being pranked by stone and parker. remeber the whore-off contest with paris hilton? saddam shagging satan? or cartman performing a hand-job on ben afflack as the new j.lo(w)? that wasnt exactly nice...
but i figured the scientology poster boy has a big movie coming out with "mission impossible: 3" and paramount pictures is a sister company to comedy central.
can you smell it?
trey parker and matt stone responded in a reuters statement reading as follows:
Scientology, you may have won THIS battle, but the million-year war for Earth has just begun! Temporarily anozinizing our episode will NOT stop us from keeping Thetans forever trapped in your pitiful man-bodies. Curses and drat! You have obstructed us for now, but your feeble bid to save humanity will fail! Hail Xenu!!!
--Trey Parker and Matt Stone, servants of the dark lord Xenu --
news on the chili peppers. my favourite band will release the double-album "stadium arcadium" in may. and i was quiete shocked last night when schowi told me about 4 tracks that had already leaked onto myspace. obviously i had to check on it and voila: within 5 min i found two of them. nice.
i will meet the guys in persona later in april. so stay tuned for some more red hot.
back. with full force. johnpaul is online again. beware. the temple-knight of nonsense has just survived a pretty hard night out. proppelerheads were dj-ing at the garden in munich and believe me it was hot. and as always once we were out on the streets we couldnt resist pushing a litle further. the after hour at keller might be as nasty as it gets, but to be frankly honest its exactly what rupstar, robson and johnpaul needed to finalize this pleasurefull night in the earlier hours of a new day.
home at 10 am. hell yeah. and what are after-hours about anyway? they have to be dark, really loud and always full speed. and thats precisely what this den had to offer this morning. aside from one of the most fucked up crowds i have come across in a long time after sunset.
oh, and have you heard about the ps3 release yet? it will be in nov 06. one release date for all of us. besides of what some lousy bloggers and journalists write i have to say that i like this announcement. and it could be better for sony too. cause asia doesnt care about the xbox anyway - and they are the only ones to wait longer now. and for all hangers in europe its definitly good news. we already gave up on the idea on gaming the new plattform in 2006. so now we can pray for the guys at rocksar games, terry and sam, to finish gta in time for christmas. and by that help selling 5 mio units in the first week, write video-game-history - and blow those silly x360s out of the living room.
porsche!! yeah, its finally happening,johnpaul is sporting the good old stuttgart designs finally. a dark-silver monster. and ladies and gents: it was about time.
when you grow up in stuttgart thats what you got in your blood. its a philosphy, a mission, a statement: the first porsche under 30. 0 to 250 in 14.9. sweet.
time to hit the road.
oh, did i mention that its a lacie hd? porsche design? haha
to blog these days, i have to finish - actually its more like start writing - a portrait on japans design king nigo, the mastermind behind bape. but my old sport jamirojames mailed me about an interesting post on some blog of some lawyer.
think about it for a second.
still refusing to do those silly hyperlinks, haha
The army of Narcisusses
Just as Marx seduced a generation of European idealists with his fantasy of self-realization in a communist utopia, so the Web 2.0 cult of creative self-realization has seduced everyone in Silicon Valley. The movement bridges counter-cultural radicals of the ’60ssuch as Steve Jobs with the contemporary geek culture of Google’s Larry Page.
The ideology of the Web 2.0 movement was perfectly summarized at the Technology Education and Design (TED) show in Monterey, last year, when Kevin Kelly, Silicon Valley’s uber-idealist and author of the Web 1.0 Internet utopia Ten Rules for The New Economy, said:
Imagine Mozart before the technology of the piano. Imagine Van Gogh before the technology of affordable oil paints. Imagine Hitchcock before the technology of film. We have a moral obligation to develop technology. . . .
But where Kelly sees a moral obligation to develop technology, we should actually have–if we really care about Mozart, Van Gogh and Hitchcock–a moral obligation to question the development of technology.
The consequences of Web 2.0 are inherently dangerous for the vitality of culture and the arts. Its empowering promises play upon that legacy of the ’60s–the creeping narcissism that Christopher Lasch described so presciently, with its obsessive focus on the realization of the self.
Another word for narcissism is “personalization.” Web 2.0 technology personalizes culture so that it reflects ourselves rather than the world around us. Blogs personalize media content so that all we read are our own thoughts. Online stores personalize our preferences, thus feeding back to us our own taste. Google personalizes searches so that all we see are advertisements for products and services we already use.
Instead of Mozart, Van Gogh, or Hitchcock, all we get with the Web 2.0 revolution is more of ourselves.
I’m not so sure. See, we’ve always had ourselves, and always will. A lousy “Blog About Myself” won’t be any more a projection of myself our yourself into the mass consciousness than your sand castle, or the poem I write on the steam in the bathroom window. For the rest of the world it will simply not exist, however theoretically accessible it may be.
But if I can please a crowd, the way Mozart, Van Gogh (posthumously) or Hitchcock did, they will come, won’t they? And will the blog they read be any less about myself than the works of Van Gogh ?
For that matter, why the comparison to artists at all? Blogging is
not an art. Even if some kind of writing is an art — I would say that
fiction writing is — blogging is merely a medium. It was hardly the
blog that made the self the center of writing; that was done by
Boswell, if not by everyone before him who wrote in the first person.
Not only that, but hyperlinks (in my view, the sina qua non
of blogging, as opposed to using blogging software to publish essays or
just “musings”) make blogging far more of a dialogue than static
writing; Movable Type is indeed in much more motion than Gutenberg ever
The author of this article, Andrew Keen, writes:
Elite artists and an elite media industry are symbiotic. If you democratize media, then you end up democratizing talent.
The problem is not what he thinks it is. Elite institutions ceased to succeed at championing elite-quality art, or even “self expression” in an elite vein, nearly half a century ago. At this point why should the gatekeepeers, who have failed so resolutely at earning the right to retain their perches of privilege, have any say in the matter at all?
for not blogging today:
1. gay cowboys
2. oscar hangover
3. a presentation due at 1600 cet
4. a really important presentation due at 1600 cet
5. too much snow
7. the german government helping the usa with classified information
8. jack bauer - an new episode of 24 waiting
9. an empty head...
10. ... that just cant be fucking bothered
the clouds are getting darker the moment the pilot tells us that we are taking a direct decent towards amsterdams international airport. our flight left 30 minutes late, due to what i assume could be called unimportance.
this is a flying tin-can they put us in here. i am sure they usually sell some old tuna in these, and now there are less than 30 people onboard.
oh,some news from the pilot and „not very good“ ones. no more cruising, amsterdam airport is closed due to heavy snowfall. we get redirected to another airport.
please hold the line...
... okay, next post from düsseldorf. we are stranded in fucking germany. lufthansa is so kind to provide a bus-shuttle with no drinks, no food, no nothing. at least we have some space, cause shizzle vergizzl wasnt afraid of kicking any old lady out of the way to make space for us. hell ya, lets roll. this bus is smoking. from now on.
by the time we got to amsterdam i was too lazy to post anything. what did we do? the usual stuff: some red light action (please ban those mid-40s drunk english there), more smoking and rolling (why cant they stop playing stupid techno in coffeeshops??) and of course some people-watching (which is more fun off-season, cause you get the real dirt unfiltered). these are the moments when you realize that dam is kind of more international and open than all the hype places like barcelona, paris or even london.
or tell me what this guy in his late thirties did? running past as if the devil himself was breathing down his neck, limping in panic at 3 am past us on an empty and dead street. then he stopped for no reason, looking around with some mad cow desease look. panic! and then he ran off in another direction. and like that he was gone.
who was after this lost soul wearing a tight black suit? there was no one in sight, nobody was after him.
only his shadow.
but his shadow didnt limp...
what would be a week without pete doherty getting arrested? as useless as socks with holes, taxis on the wrong side of the road or a (clean) bong and no greenery.
according to the bbc the babyshambles-singer was arrested this time for stealing a car. a car? what did he do with his chic liitle jaguar he used to get arested in? it doesnt make sense. unless it was kates car he tried to nick of course...
anyway, they found some class-a drug on him (suprise, suprise) and took him to a nearby station for questioning. after he got released on bail he went out telling reporters that he was "not that much of a junkie anyway".
of course not, pete. did johnpaul ever reveal that this english junk-pop-sensation used to live with a very close friend of his back in the late ninties somewhere rotten in the east end? according to my source "pete was an interesting, arrogant and quiete intelligent lad". but he got kicked out of halls after stealing technical equipment at the drama departement.
no. "not much of a junkie." no, not at all.
and good bye. you were hoping for some more sexiness and ass in this crappy show? 51 entries and still no tits? time to set standards, before the mighty father complains.
by the way: johnpaul took the day off, got out of b.e.d. at a single-digit-am-time(seriously, i cant remember that happening), fell in love with the new massive attack single, will go ride some powder later and believe me, it took a while to find the right illustration for this rather rich morning. here we go.
drug found on c-class singer. haha. george michael got arrested sleeping in his land rover parked near hyde park corner.
no, not arrested for sleeping around in public. the pigs found some c-class drug on him, probably your average park-ganja.
but why was the pop-singer sleeping during the day on a busy street? maybe he was just stoned and wanted to rest his eyes for a moment - or he just came back from the nearby toilet. and had a smoke after. or he came from the toilet and felt a little tired. because we like our sleepy times after a good blow-job. stoned or not stoned.
it seems not funny anymore to be wasted and off my hat at 10.45 in the morning. 10.45 am! suddenly my stomach feels like an old garbage-bag and my head spins like some old dirty technics 1210ers.
hold on. another wave of sickness strikes me down, writing nonsense seems to be the only solution. or go straight to bed. back to berlin. rest my head, be good and survive this nasty morning.
what did i think? not very much i guess. being good all weekend and than getting completly hammered on a sunday night - with a plane to catch 3 hours later. great plan. needlessly to say that it was dam close to missing that dam plane once again. needlessly to say that i forgot all my shit in berlin. needlessly to say that i am still high as a kite. sick like a pumpkin. and the storm inside twists me around like a lonely plastic bag in the sahara winds. whatever.
... of a geezer. just bumped into mike skinner. and it was much nicer than last time when i met "the streets". 3 years ago mike seemed like an aggressive little punk in need of some friends and a big bottle of clearsil, caught up in the hype around his persona, 3 million sold copies and a dozend awards.
now he seems more chilled and less hyped about his success. we met in berlin and mike was sporting his brand new, super-white reeboks he gets to wear due to his six-figures-advertising-deal he closed with reebok.
we ended up talking for 15 minutes about the differences in european table-soccer-standards (the french and their crappy balls and obnoxious rules, spain with their metall-figures and england as a whole not being able to play).
obviously mike claims to be englands best kicker-player, which yet has to be proven. anyway, we agreed on the fact that americans have the most idiotic idea of baby-foot: they dont believe in the idea of a goal-keeper and have three men as a defense-line instead. its silly, its not even football (13 players on the pitch), but it might help their understanding of the game because it looks more like american football...
anyway, mike told me a little about his life in the last three years (cruising around vegas in a red ferrari with no license, wasting hundreds of thousands of pounds on betting, smoking some crack-cocaine with a female english b-list-celebrity, letting his father go and starting his own laben "the beats ...
... and his visions on the "great two european narcotics: alcohol and christianity"
one highlight is left to share with you:
johnpaul: cocaine, alcohol... how are your habbits doing these days?
skinner: i am totally sober these days. no alcohol, no drugs. not this year.
johnpaul: good, calming down a little...
skinner: yeah, sort of. hmm, which year are we in now?
skinner. oh. yeah. right. maybe next year