Filofax blues April 8, 2006Posted by BiB in Uncategorized.
Tags: filofax, melancholy
I’m having post traumatic stress disorder syndrome. I think. I’m overcome with regret. I should never have bought those filofax pages.
Are Mr. and Mrs. Filofax, presuming it was just such a couple that invented the filofax phenomenon, Austrian? (I like, for babyish comic effect, to pronounce the first syllable of Austrian ‘awe’. I amused myself for a whole evening once with an unknown couple in a Berlin bar by accusing them of being Awestrian when they were from round the corner. They put up with me very charitably, including when I began to tell the exceedingly nice and kind gentleman of the couple that he wasn’t nearly nice enough to his very nice girlfriend. She assured me all the while he was a total angel but I was having none of it.) Because sifting through all the pap pages I got with my filofax pages – the ones that go straight in the recycling plastic bag – is one fanfaring Schulferien Österreich. Erm, aber how quickly do the words ‘egal’ and ‘Scheiße’ now come to mind? (I wonder what Steiermark’s like at this time of year.)
But back to the regrets. Nothing to do with a late-night visit to Melancholie and, I repeat, having to stand in a queue for half an hour to get in. Indeed, the only Melancholie that exhibition brought on was a) it wasn’t nearly gloomy enough and b) the Neue Nationale Gallerie seemed to have quadrupled in size since I was last there. My heart sank as I rounded every corner only to see art disappearing off into the distance before me. Oh, while I’m here, could Picasso just fuck right off? In the blurb next to some Picasso or other, there was an excerpt from a letter he’d written. In my fury, I chose not to make a better note of it, so my version could quite easily be utterly mendacious, but it went something along the lines of, “Don’t forget I am a Spaniard, and we Spaniards love melancholy.” No you don’t, you dead arse. Spaniards don’t at all love gloom. And know nothing about it. As didn’t you. So just shut the total hell right up. Now on the gloom front, Munch excelled himself, I thought. An awfully good performance from Edvard. He knew a thing or two about gloom. And being barking. Van Gogh provided the only thing of pure, sheer, total, utter beauty for me, but I’m a colour slut. Otherwise, I think I need to take up painting in time for Melancholie II. The skulls and webbed bits of animal turned me off within minutes.
But where were we? Melancholy. Ah, yes, Mr. and Mrs. Filofax. No, the regrets are seeing, along with the Awestrian school holidays and Lithuanian weights and measurements, all the events I’ve already missed this year. And not just in Awestria. No, right here in Berlin. The Messen und Ausstellungen 2006 (Alle Angaben ohne Gewähr, by the way, before the litigious among you see a quick euro in this) informed me, with undisguised cruelty, that I have missed the HomeTech – Internationale Messe für Hausgeräte (Trade Fair for Household Appliances, for the uninitiated) and, even more tragically, back in February, admittedly in Bremen aber immerhin, fish international.
Maybe 2006 will be shit after all…