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4.10.2003

What a day. Got up in Muenster, drove to Bielefeld, did laundry, saw my car fail at the check and brought it to a garage, got a rental and drove straight to Hamburg. Forgot to call Troels... Matter of fact, I feel like I forgot a couple of things. Whatever. I'll (hopefully) get a new phone tomorrow (if the delivery service doesn't fuck up) and I'll celebrate that by buing a new pair of sneakers. All my shoes - and I own a LOT - are stowed away in some box that lies deep inside of a basement, and I've been running around in the same two pairs of shoes ever since I moved out of my flat in Muenster. I don't want to see them anymore and my feet scream as soon as they get near them. So, new kicks are mandatory. It'll be a lot easier running around Hamburg with a pair of shoes that are actually made for stuff like that. Just have to find the right ones - I'm a bit of a sneaker-nazi. Woven Nikes? GIMME!

4.08.2003

Birmingham was a blast. Well, maybe not exactly a blast, but I think we all had a good time. Once you get used to a couple of things, England is not too bad.
As we all know, they drive on the wrong side of the road. Now, imagine swiss and dutch guys driving - great entertainment. Did you know that they do the same shit while walking up or down stairs? They use the left side. The funniest thing was salt- and pepper-containers. In Europe, pepper-containers usually have one to three holes, while the ones containing salt have way more - on the island it's the other way around. Now, THAT really puzzled me. And you can probably imagine, I am more than happy to be back in Muenster for a day.

Upon returning yesterday, I found the new issue of Playboard magazine on my desk, which features eight pages Emerica-Team interviews - I was really happy about that. Eight pages in a magazine that's not Monster, combined with a reminder from the editor, that I should send pictures - that's a good reason for a healthy grin. This grin became even bigger when my man Ingo gave me the new SLAP Magazine, which features eight pages Florentin Marfaing - and guess who interviewed Floh? Yes indeed, I am a stoked man, and I am still grinning while I write this.

Cronite and my friend Beat are happy with the pictures I took last week, that's one more reason to be cheerful. I don't have too much time on my hands to be happy though - tomorrow will see me in Bielefeld, having the car checked (finally) and doing laundry, and in the evening I'll drive up to Hamburg to continue the search for a loft. Might go to Kopenhagen just for shits and giggles on the weekend ... Beautiful city, that is. All I need is a place to stay. I'll call Troels tonight, I guess... What's up Troels? Long time no see!

What else ... I got a shitload of cash from the insurance for my fucked-up elbow, so I don't have to worry about too much for the next two or three months, I miss my friends in Muenster (not the shitface R. that uses his new chance in a new town to lie in my face though), it gets too dark to type now, and the hotel in Birmingham was strange. Had to share a bed and a blanket with Juergen Horrwarth, because double-rooms where too expensive for the Radar-Girls to book. Danny Wainwright won street (right), Terrence Bougdour won vert (what? why? wrong.) Andy Scott won Bowl. As I said, everyone had a good time, even though it was England. The weather was good, can you believe that? Probably because it was an indoor-competition...

I do apologize for being so stagnant with this diary - I'm on the road a lot and I just don't have DSL that often. As soon as I am settled in Hamburg, I'll make up for it - promise! Oh, and is anyone reading this in Japan right now or in the upcoming weeks? I've been searching for "Eggos", the Sony MDR-D66 headphones, for way over a year now, but they just aren't available anywhere except Japan. If you go there, bring me a pair, please. Two. Three. I'll happily pay for them.

One more thing: if you're able to speak/understand german, go to www.tanzverbot.com and download the track. That's the least you can do to show that you care.

Love,

David

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